I am the treasurer for our Cub Scout pack. Last week, Mark took Daniel's den on a bowling outing, so I cut him a check to reimburse him. The pack's checks say "Webelos Scouts" as the name, and then have our pack leader's address underneath.
We go by the bank today to deposit the check, and when the girl at the window sent our receipt back to us, she said "Thank you, Mr. Scouts."
I just call him Webelos.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Sunday, April 27, 2008
What I'm Reading Now
Wish You Well, by David Baldacci. This is an older one, although not as old as I thought it was - it was published in 2000. I found it in a stack of books loaned to me by a lady I go to church with - she gives me bags of books at a time, and I am trying to work through them so I can start returning. I haven't read much of Baldacci's other stuff - I read The Lottery (I think it's called The Lottery - it's about the lottery) and I listened to Saving Faith on tape on a road trip. I liked them both fairly well, but I think this is a "departure" book. Grisham did the same thing at about the same time - The Painted House was his departure from his legal thrillers. Oddly enough, I have never really liked Grisham's books, except for A Time to Kill, but I loved The Painted House. Go figure.
Wish You Well is set in southwest Virginia, which is a plus for me, and is good so far - but I'm only fifty or so pages in. Too soon to tell.
Weekend Update
We kicked off our weekend with a ball game. Our own Bolton Block was tied for first place with the boys (and one girl) of Ferguson. Winner would be the undisputed first place team of the National League.
Little League games go six innings, or two hours, whichever comes first. We started the game at 7:30. Ten innings later, we left the ball field just after 11:00. It was a SLUGFEST. Literally. One of our twelve-year-olds hit a two-run homer, the likes of which I've never seen before. It's 208 feet to the center field fence. The ball cleared the fence in about a quarter of a second. Past the fence, there's a grassy area, probably another twenty-thirty feet. Then there's a road, then there's a little white house with a fence around it. I don't know exactly where the ball came down, but the seventeen kids that chased it down went across the street, and had to scale two fences in the little white house's yard to get it. Wow. Anywho, this moonshot tied the game in the bottom of the sixth. Another two-run homer in the bottom of the tenth won it for us. Ben was in a slump at the plate, but he did make a key out late in the game.
The Bad Boys of Bolton Block are now in first place. Go us!
We slept in Saturday morning, ran some basic errands (it's tax-free weekend in Tennessee!), and enjoyed some down time.
On Saturday afternoon, we headed back to the ballpark for a 32-9 shellacking of the last place team. Ben came out of his slump with a great hit into right field. It's no fun beating a team that badly, but we were there last year, so it all evens out.
Saturday night, I tried a new pork chop recipe (probably not a repeater) and we played Shadows Over Camelot.
Today is youth Sunday. The boys will be singing with the KFC, and the older kids will be running the show. Scary.
If the weather holds, the KFC has an end-of-year fiesta at one of the cooler parks in the area. Should be good times. Mark will be hitting the links.
Little League games go six innings, or two hours, whichever comes first. We started the game at 7:30. Ten innings later, we left the ball field just after 11:00. It was a SLUGFEST. Literally. One of our twelve-year-olds hit a two-run homer, the likes of which I've never seen before. It's 208 feet to the center field fence. The ball cleared the fence in about a quarter of a second. Past the fence, there's a grassy area, probably another twenty-thirty feet. Then there's a road, then there's a little white house with a fence around it. I don't know exactly where the ball came down, but the seventeen kids that chased it down went across the street, and had to scale two fences in the little white house's yard to get it. Wow. Anywho, this moonshot tied the game in the bottom of the sixth. Another two-run homer in the bottom of the tenth won it for us. Ben was in a slump at the plate, but he did make a key out late in the game.
The Bad Boys of Bolton Block are now in first place. Go us!
We slept in Saturday morning, ran some basic errands (it's tax-free weekend in Tennessee!), and enjoyed some down time.
On Saturday afternoon, we headed back to the ballpark for a 32-9 shellacking of the last place team. Ben came out of his slump with a great hit into right field. It's no fun beating a team that badly, but we were there last year, so it all evens out.
Saturday night, I tried a new pork chop recipe (probably not a repeater) and we played Shadows Over Camelot.
Today is youth Sunday. The boys will be singing with the KFC, and the older kids will be running the show. Scary.
If the weather holds, the KFC has an end-of-year fiesta at one of the cooler parks in the area. Should be good times. Mark will be hitting the links.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
The Continuing Saga of the Sausage and Pancake on a Stick
Daniel has a new breakfast favorite: sausage and pancake on a stick. It is a Jimmy Dean creation, and reportedly tastes a lot like a McGriddle, without the syrup pockets.
One evening as Daniel was readying himself for bed, we were discussing the lengthy name associated with this breakfast treat, and pondering options for a shorter name, a "nickname", if you will. After much thoughtful deliberation, we landed on the name "SAPAS". Sausage And Pancake on A Stick. Perfect.
The next morning, I hear Mark and Daniel in the kitchen. "Faststick," I hear Mark say. "That's what you should call it. Like Breakfast, but without the break. Just fast. Fast Stick."
Now, imagine with me if you will, one of those moments on Lost. One of those moments when you know that one of the characters is about to have a flashback. That sucking sound starts, and the camera begins to zoom in on my eyeball. When it zooms out again, the year is 1997.
I am in a toystore. I find an adorable little stuffed moose. "Perfect for my adorable little son Ben." I buy the moose.
Excitedly, I drive home. This is the toy, I'm thinking. The one he will sneak into his suitcase when he goes to camp because it reminds him of mom. The one that he will look at nostagically as he packs for college because it reminds him of mom. Such a significant toy needs a significant name, I think. What shall we name it? Montgomery Moose? It could work. Alowishus Moose? Might be too hard to spell. I pondered and pondered all the way home. I had great plans for the naming of this moose. The name must be perfect.
I get home. I lovingly present Ben with his gift. As he begins to chew on it, I say "What should we name the moose?" My list of suggestions are about to follow, when I hear Mark say "Bob. Bob Moose. Done."
Zoom back to the present, and we're back on the island. I mean, back in the kitchen. Something deep within me snaps. I whisper "Bob Moose" to myself like some unspeakable swear word. "No!" I yell loudly. "We're calling it a SAPAS. Faststick is a bad, bad name. SAPAS. SAPAS!"
Needless to say, this has continued to spiral downward into an ugly, ugly mess of cruel words and breakfast foods. Mark is staunchly supporting his choice, and I mine. Mark even went so far as to create a mock-up of a Faststick box, in some insane marketing ploy, pictured here:
So how about you? SAPAS? Or Faststick?
One evening as Daniel was readying himself for bed, we were discussing the lengthy name associated with this breakfast treat, and pondering options for a shorter name, a "nickname", if you will. After much thoughtful deliberation, we landed on the name "SAPAS". Sausage And Pancake on A Stick. Perfect.
The next morning, I hear Mark and Daniel in the kitchen. "Faststick," I hear Mark say. "That's what you should call it. Like Breakfast, but without the break. Just fast. Fast Stick."
Now, imagine with me if you will, one of those moments on Lost. One of those moments when you know that one of the characters is about to have a flashback. That sucking sound starts, and the camera begins to zoom in on my eyeball. When it zooms out again, the year is 1997.
I am in a toystore. I find an adorable little stuffed moose. "Perfect for my adorable little son Ben." I buy the moose.
Excitedly, I drive home. This is the toy, I'm thinking. The one he will sneak into his suitcase when he goes to camp because it reminds him of mom. The one that he will look at nostagically as he packs for college because it reminds him of mom. Such a significant toy needs a significant name, I think. What shall we name it? Montgomery Moose? It could work. Alowishus Moose? Might be too hard to spell. I pondered and pondered all the way home. I had great plans for the naming of this moose. The name must be perfect.
I get home. I lovingly present Ben with his gift. As he begins to chew on it, I say "What should we name the moose?" My list of suggestions are about to follow, when I hear Mark say "Bob. Bob Moose. Done."
Zoom back to the present, and we're back on the island. I mean, back in the kitchen. Something deep within me snaps. I whisper "Bob Moose" to myself like some unspeakable swear word. "No!" I yell loudly. "We're calling it a SAPAS. Faststick is a bad, bad name. SAPAS. SAPAS!"
Needless to say, this has continued to spiral downward into an ugly, ugly mess of cruel words and breakfast foods. Mark is staunchly supporting his choice, and I mine. Mark even went so far as to create a mock-up of a Faststick box, in some insane marketing ploy, pictured here:
Daniel, meanwhile, can't figure out what's happened to his otherwise normal parents. Breakfast at our house has become a ticking time bomb. We found a crazy Scottish monk living in our basement, and last week I shot a polar bear in the backyard. Oh no wait, that's another post.
So how about you? SAPAS? Or Faststick?
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Gimme Five!
As previously posted, cousin Sam came up to see Daniel join the church. Actually, he stayed in the nursery, but he was on site, at least. Anywho, we had a great visit that afternoon, and his Auntie Charlotte taught him how to give five. (Natalie later said he had done this feat before, just not as enthusiastically.)
Big Day for Daniel
Today was a big day for Daniel - he joined the church! He has been asking lots of spiritual questions in recent months, and a few weeks ago decided he wanted to ask Jesus to come into his heart. He met with our pastor, then met with the Session last Sunday night, and this morning was officially welcomed into the fellowship of the congregation. All four Grandparents were there, and Uncle Paul, Aunt Natalie, and Sam came up as well. It was a really nice service, and we are very, very proud of our young man!
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
The Infamous Snow Weekend
In a comment on Movie Quotes 2 posted by ferdlings, he references "our infamous snow weekend." I have thought of blogging on that weekend before, and his comment has inspired me.
Many years back - Mark and I were married, but no kids, and Paul had not yet moved back to SC, so I'm going to guess it was 1995 or 1996 - Paul came to stay for a weekend. This was before all this global warming mumbo-jumbo and we really did have bad winters here.
I want to say he came up on a Saturday, because if he came on Friday night, I don't remember what we did. But on Saturday we went to see some movie (Ransom? Apollo 13?) and then had dinner at Ruby Tuesday's. When we came out of the restaurant, there was a good amount of snow on the ground. We figured we might get snowed in, and rented some movies on the way home (or maybe we rented them Friday night - I'm forgetting some of the details.)
Anyway, we rented Aliens and Pulp Fiction, and two other movies whose names escape me for reasons that will be explained later. We watch Aliens. Mark keeps harping about what a funny movie it was, and I'm thinking "I don't remember it being funny". But with the right people, that movie is a scream. "Game over man, game over!" "Well why don't you just put her in charge?" "They mostly come at night. Mostly." We rolled.
And then we put in Pulp Fiction. The VCR made a weird grinding sound. Pulp Fiction would not play, nor did it ever come back out of our VCR. Game over man. Game over.
By Sunday morning, there was two or three feet of snow on the ground. Paul and I walked around the yard, and I remember taking a bad step and getting in snow up to my hip. It really SNOWED. Of course, we had nothing to do, since we didn't have cable, and the VCR was tied up not playing Pulp Fiction. We mostly just looked out the window and commented on how much freakin' snow there was. Mostly.
By Sunday night, Paul's getting worried that he can't get home, and Mark is trying to figure out if we should go to work the next day. So the two of them bundle up like Inuits and say they're going out to see how the main road looks. They seriously spent like twenty minutes putting on layers and scarves and hats just in case they "got stuck somewhere and had to walk back". They backed about two feet down the driveway before Mark veered right and stuck them in our yard. At least they were dressed for the walk back.
We got the in-laws to come get us on Monday for work in the family 4X4. Paul drove home in his Ford Taurus. It took him about ten hours. I was sure he was dead. Mark kept saying "Don't worry. He couldn't get up enough speed to get in a serious accident - worse case he's freezing by the side of the road somewhere." I finally got him on the phone about 10:00 - he had left the heat off and was holed up in a hallway in his apartment reading EW and trying to get warm.
Ah yes. The Infamous Snow Weekend. Remembered much more fondly than the Charlie Peacock fiasco, but that's a blog for another day.
I did finally see Pulp Fiction years later. What a disappointment. What a terrible movie to lose a VCR too. What a bad career choice for Ving Rhames.
Many years back - Mark and I were married, but no kids, and Paul had not yet moved back to SC, so I'm going to guess it was 1995 or 1996 - Paul came to stay for a weekend. This was before all this global warming mumbo-jumbo and we really did have bad winters here.
I want to say he came up on a Saturday, because if he came on Friday night, I don't remember what we did. But on Saturday we went to see some movie (Ransom? Apollo 13?) and then had dinner at Ruby Tuesday's. When we came out of the restaurant, there was a good amount of snow on the ground. We figured we might get snowed in, and rented some movies on the way home (or maybe we rented them Friday night - I'm forgetting some of the details.)
Anyway, we rented Aliens and Pulp Fiction, and two other movies whose names escape me for reasons that will be explained later. We watch Aliens. Mark keeps harping about what a funny movie it was, and I'm thinking "I don't remember it being funny". But with the right people, that movie is a scream. "Game over man, game over!" "Well why don't you just put her in charge?" "They mostly come at night. Mostly." We rolled.
And then we put in Pulp Fiction. The VCR made a weird grinding sound. Pulp Fiction would not play, nor did it ever come back out of our VCR. Game over man. Game over.
By Sunday morning, there was two or three feet of snow on the ground. Paul and I walked around the yard, and I remember taking a bad step and getting in snow up to my hip. It really SNOWED. Of course, we had nothing to do, since we didn't have cable, and the VCR was tied up not playing Pulp Fiction. We mostly just looked out the window and commented on how much freakin' snow there was. Mostly.
By Sunday night, Paul's getting worried that he can't get home, and Mark is trying to figure out if we should go to work the next day. So the two of them bundle up like Inuits and say they're going out to see how the main road looks. They seriously spent like twenty minutes putting on layers and scarves and hats just in case they "got stuck somewhere and had to walk back". They backed about two feet down the driveway before Mark veered right and stuck them in our yard. At least they were dressed for the walk back.
We got the in-laws to come get us on Monday for work in the family 4X4. Paul drove home in his Ford Taurus. It took him about ten hours. I was sure he was dead. Mark kept saying "Don't worry. He couldn't get up enough speed to get in a serious accident - worse case he's freezing by the side of the road somewhere." I finally got him on the phone about 10:00 - he had left the heat off and was holed up in a hallway in his apartment reading EW and trying to get warm.
Ah yes. The Infamous Snow Weekend. Remembered much more fondly than the Charlie Peacock fiasco, but that's a blog for another day.
I did finally see Pulp Fiction years later. What a disappointment. What a terrible movie to lose a VCR too. What a bad career choice for Ving Rhames.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Movie Quotes 2
I realize now that my first post of movie quotes left out quite a few of our family's most oft-repeated phrases. (I think I just got to the number ten and decided I must be done.) Anywho, here are some more - some from well-known movies, some from not-so-well-known movies, and some from TV:
1. "Game over man, game over!"
2. "He chose...poorly." (This was the understatement of the year, by the way.)
3. "I just got tortured by a spinal surgeon and a genu-ine I-raqi."
4. "Marla Hooch. What a hitter!"
5. "I, myself...cannot."
6. "I'mlookingformydog. Haveyouseenhim?"
7. "Do NOT go in there!"
8. "Is that a Titleist?"
9. "Sarah Conner?" (We follow this up with "No man, she lives next door.")
10. "I can't believe you're a professional golfer. You should be working at the snack bar."
11. "You can't go! All the plants'll die!"
12. "No, just circular."
How could I have forgotten these gems?
1. "Game over man, game over!"
2. "He chose...poorly." (This was the understatement of the year, by the way.)
3. "I just got tortured by a spinal surgeon and a genu-ine I-raqi."
4. "Marla Hooch. What a hitter!"
5. "I, myself...cannot."
6. "I'mlookingformydog. Haveyouseenhim?"
7. "Do NOT go in there!"
8. "Is that a Titleist?"
9. "Sarah Conner?" (We follow this up with "No man, she lives next door.")
10. "I can't believe you're a professional golfer. You should be working at the snack bar."
11. "You can't go! All the plants'll die!"
12. "No, just circular."
How could I have forgotten these gems?
What I'm Reading Now
Whitehorn Woods, by Maeve Binchy. This is something like her third book since announcing her retirement with Scarlet Feather. And her "post-retirement" books haven't been all that great. But this one, so far, is charming. It is set in a small village in Ireland that has a well in the woods. The well is believed to have mystical powers imparted by St. Ann. So far, in very Binchy-style, it is a collection of vignettes into the lives of the villagers - lots of switching of narrators and changing of perspective. It's a light read, but I'm enjoying it so far.
Binchy's other memorable books include Circle of Friends, Tara Road, Scarlet Feather, The Lilac Bus, The Glass Lake - she's fairly prolific.
Update on Nineteen Minutes - really, really good book. Disturbing, not something I wanted to like, but it was really intriguing. A little unnecessary bit of a twist at the end, but otherwise perfect. She used a lot of events from Columbine, and she even mentioned Columbine several times in the book. It was a good example of how the right combination of events in the right person's life at just the right times can be combustible. Quite thought-provoking.
Monday, April 14, 2008
The Curse of the Jersey
So, I'm sure by now you've heard this story about the Red Sox jersey buried under the new Yankee Stadium. Some Red Sox Nation construction worker buries a Sox jersey while he's working on the stadium site. Like most morons who do crazy things, he can't keep his mouth shut and apparently all the guys on the crew know about it. And them someone talks to someone else who talks to someone in the press, and now the whole world knows that there's a Sox jersey buried in the deep, dark, depths of the new Yankee Stadium. Why do such a thing? A curse, of course! Baseball is all about curses and goats and superstition and what not.
So last night the Yankees have had enough and they pay a bunch of union guys to come in on a Sunday and dig the thing up. Big bucks they're paying (although, I hear payroll isn't so much a big deal for the Yankees.) Turns out it's an Ortiz jersey. Rights have been wronged. Someone will sell it on eBay and life will go on.
Here's the thing: this jersey had to have been buried some weeks, if not months, ago. Big Papi is 3 for 43 so far this season, and even got benched last night for sucking so bad. Who's cursing who here?
My thinking is you dig another hole, put the jersey back, throw in a Ramirez jersey, a Papelbon jersey, a Beckett jersey - maybe even a Ted Williams jersey for good measure - bury them all and then sit back and watch the magic. But hey - that's just me.
So last night the Yankees have had enough and they pay a bunch of union guys to come in on a Sunday and dig the thing up. Big bucks they're paying (although, I hear payroll isn't so much a big deal for the Yankees.) Turns out it's an Ortiz jersey. Rights have been wronged. Someone will sell it on eBay and life will go on.
Here's the thing: this jersey had to have been buried some weeks, if not months, ago. Big Papi is 3 for 43 so far this season, and even got benched last night for sucking so bad. Who's cursing who here?
My thinking is you dig another hole, put the jersey back, throw in a Ramirez jersey, a Papelbon jersey, a Beckett jersey - maybe even a Ted Williams jersey for good measure - bury them all and then sit back and watch the magic. But hey - that's just me.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Where in TN?
OK, all you Gamecock fans.....where is this tribute to the most hated man in Tennessee?Answer: On Lonnie Lowe Lane in South Johnson City. Home of the Science Hill High School Hill Toppers.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Pico de Gallo! Or maybe, Salsa!
Mark and I had lunch at Barberito's today. He got a meat skinny, and I got the cheese quesadillas with a side of sour cream and salsa. The salsa was fantastic! It wasn't really hot - and I like hot salsa. If you had asked me, I would have said it was pico de gallo - it was chunky instead of saucy - but I don't guess I really know the difference. Anyway, I had one of those moments where I thought "Hey, I could make this! What's in this - tomatoes, shallots, cilantro, is that lime?, - I could so make this!"
So I'm stopping by the store on the way home for a few items anyway, and I grab some fresh cilantro, a lime, and a can of petite diced tomatoes. I drain the tomatoes, finely dice a shallot, chop a handful of cilantro, drizzle in a couple turns of the olive oil bottle, juice the lime, salt, pepper and Presto! Pico de Gallo! Or Salsa! Whatever - it's really, really good! Again, not spicy like you get with the peppers. The lime and the cilantro give it a slight sweetness that's really tasty.
Right now it's "marrying flavors" in the fridge, which means, I think, it's only getting better. Yay! Tonight I'll be munching on chips and salsa while we watch season 2 of Lost on DVD. I miss that Mr. Eko. Good times.
Not the Story I Thought He Was Telling
So, I pick the boys up from school. Ben immediately starts in with one of his high-octane, play-by-play stories.
"We were playing basketball in the gym today and I was at half court and Alex was driving the basket so I MOTORED down court and I jumped right when he jumped and I sky-walked about a mile and got right up in his face and when he tried to make the shot I reached way back behind me and slammed my hand forward and REJECTED him so bad and when I landed I was sure I had diarrhea'd myself but then I went to the bathroom and I was fine."
"We were playing basketball in the gym today and I was at half court and Alex was driving the basket so I MOTORED down court and I jumped right when he jumped and I sky-walked about a mile and got right up in his face and when he tried to make the shot I reached way back behind me and slammed my hand forward and REJECTED him so bad and when I landed I was sure I had diarrhea'd myself but then I went to the bathroom and I was fine."
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Disappointed!
Mark and I work in different departments in the same ops center. This never used to happen, but for some reason, since I've been back, I regularly get emails that were intended for him. I think people type the last name in, and it auto-fills alphabetically, and I come up first, or something. Anyway, people can't be bothered to make sure they're emailing the right person, so I read through these messages trying to figure out why the heck Jim Bob in Dallas wants me to join some call at 2:00. And then I realize what's happened, and forward the note on the Mark, and say something witty like "this must be for you!". It's really fun when a conversation gets going and I have to forward like fifty notes on to him, or reply back to everybody to leave me the heck alone and read the &^%#$ distro next time! But I digress.
Today I get an email telling me that I've won an award! This is no Spot Award - this is the big one. The grand poobah of awards. Recipients get a day off with pay, $50, a prime parking spot, and a lovely piece of lucite to clutter up their desk. So I read that subject line "Congratulations! You've won an award!" and I am PUMPED. PUMPED! I start thinking what I'm spending my money on, and when I'm taking my day off. PUMPED! But as I read this email, I don't find my name anywhere. Like three people won awards, but none of them are named Creevedog. So I check the address list. And there I am. Right there in the cc line, with all the other department managers who have someone on their team who won this month. People like, say, Mark. Not people like, say, me. I've won jack. Some guy on Mark's team is spending my $50 and parking in my space.
As Kevin Kline would say "Disappointed!!!"
Today I get an email telling me that I've won an award! This is no Spot Award - this is the big one. The grand poobah of awards. Recipients get a day off with pay, $50, a prime parking spot, and a lovely piece of lucite to clutter up their desk. So I read that subject line "Congratulations! You've won an award!" and I am PUMPED. PUMPED! I start thinking what I'm spending my money on, and when I'm taking my day off. PUMPED! But as I read this email, I don't find my name anywhere. Like three people won awards, but none of them are named Creevedog. So I check the address list. And there I am. Right there in the cc line, with all the other department managers who have someone on their team who won this month. People like, say, Mark. Not people like, say, me. I've won jack. Some guy on Mark's team is spending my $50 and parking in my space.
As Kevin Kline would say "Disappointed!!!"
Monday, April 7, 2008
Play Ball!
After a disappointing (no, make that painful) two and twenty-two record last year, the bad boys of Bolton Block came out swinging to start the 2008 season off with a 14-1 win over Scott's Farms. One kid even took one deep his first time up. Ben put up two Ks, but he went down swinging hard both times. He made up for it on defense - he made an awesome catch in center, then gunned a kid down at first trying to tag up. You gotta love baseball!(Sorry about the bad picture - Mom left the real camera at home.)
Saturday, April 5, 2008
What I'm Reading Now
Nineteen Minutes, by Jodi Picoult. She's one of my favorite authors these days. I highly recommend Plain Truth (set in the Amish country) and Second Glance (with a supernatural spin). Vanishing Acts was really good as well - about a women who discovers she was kidnapped as a child. Picoult also writes about some pretty disturbing stuff - My Sister's Keeper is one that I have no desire whatsoever to read (I'll let you look up the story line for that one yourself.)
Nineteen Minutes is borderline too disturbing for me, but I'm trying it anyway. It's about a high school shooting spree reminiscent of Columbine. Picoult does a lot of research for her books, and brings a lot of realistic details to her writing. She also has a very readable style. I'll keep you posted on this one.
I did finish Julie and Julia - it got better, I have to say, but still not as good as I'd hoped. Two and a half out of five stars.
Opening Day!
Today was opening day for Little League! In keeping with tradition, it poured down rain. So much so, they canceled all the festivities. Oh well. At least I got one photo.
Friday, April 4, 2008
What's In a Name?
I read several blogs on a regular basis. Most of them are listed on my side bar, but I occasionally read others. I'm curious about something: where did your blog name come from?
In my case, my URL name 'CREEVEDOG' comes from my first real job. I worked in a Help Desk, and we used these old mainframe systems. Our user IDs were so prevalent in these systems, we just started referring to one another that way. CREEVE4 was my ID (my first initial, coupled with a common misspelling of my maiden name) and that somehow morphed in Creevedog. Some of our IDs stuck so well that we still use them to this day (take my good friend Twinger, for example.) So I use Creevedog anytime I need a unique identifier that I know no one else is using.
Mixin' It Up came from my desire to feature my mixer prominently. I thought it would be a neat metaphor of sorts for what I would write about, but now, three months later, I don't think I've really mixed anything up, metaphorically speaking. But I do continue to mix up cookie batter and the like. So it works.
What about you? If you have a blog, how did you choose the name? And the URL name? And if you don't have a blog, what would you name it if you had one?
In my case, my URL name 'CREEVEDOG' comes from my first real job. I worked in a Help Desk, and we used these old mainframe systems. Our user IDs were so prevalent in these systems, we just started referring to one another that way. CREEVE4 was my ID (my first initial, coupled with a common misspelling of my maiden name) and that somehow morphed in Creevedog. Some of our IDs stuck so well that we still use them to this day (take my good friend Twinger, for example.) So I use Creevedog anytime I need a unique identifier that I know no one else is using.
Mixin' It Up came from my desire to feature my mixer prominently. I thought it would be a neat metaphor of sorts for what I would write about, but now, three months later, I don't think I've really mixed anything up, metaphorically speaking. But I do continue to mix up cookie batter and the like. So it works.
What about you? If you have a blog, how did you choose the name? And the URL name? And if you don't have a blog, what would you name it if you had one?
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Random Thoughts on Travel
Sorry about the absence of posts - I was in Dallas on business. And I have a few questions:
1. When someone compares your actual face to your picture ID, what should you do? Make eye contact? Look wistfully away like you're in an Olan Mills photo? What?
2. Airlines now board planes by zone. "Now boarding Zone 1" and so on. There is apparently no penalty for throwing an elbow and boarding outside your zone, by the way, but I digress. The zones are boarded front to back. Wouldn't it make more sense to board back to front? Or for that matter, window seats to aisle? Just a process improvement idea.
3. What did people do in airports before they had cell phones?
4. When you drive into DFW from I-635, you go through a toll booth kind of a thing where they give you a ticket. Looks like a ticket you would get in a parking garage. Then you drive about a quarter mile, and go through another toll booth kind of thing. This time, they take the ticket back. What the heck is that?
5. Why do you feel so foolish standing around without your shoes on?
6. Why do people try so hard to appear like they don't need to hang on for dear life on the train in the Atlanta airport? Do they think they look cool, being all stiff and lock-jawed? They look like they're being electrocuted. I hang on with both hands and bend at the knees - I'm not impressing anybody.
7. Why do flight attendents get shoulder belts as well as lap belts in those little jump seats they sit in? If those shoulder belts increase my odds in any way, I would like some, too.
8. What does Don't Mess With Texas really mean? How would someone "mess with" a state? And what states can you mess with? Rhode Island? Idaho?
That's all.
1. When someone compares your actual face to your picture ID, what should you do? Make eye contact? Look wistfully away like you're in an Olan Mills photo? What?
2. Airlines now board planes by zone. "Now boarding Zone 1" and so on. There is apparently no penalty for throwing an elbow and boarding outside your zone, by the way, but I digress. The zones are boarded front to back. Wouldn't it make more sense to board back to front? Or for that matter, window seats to aisle? Just a process improvement idea.
3. What did people do in airports before they had cell phones?
4. When you drive into DFW from I-635, you go through a toll booth kind of a thing where they give you a ticket. Looks like a ticket you would get in a parking garage. Then you drive about a quarter mile, and go through another toll booth kind of thing. This time, they take the ticket back. What the heck is that?
5. Why do you feel so foolish standing around without your shoes on?
6. Why do people try so hard to appear like they don't need to hang on for dear life on the train in the Atlanta airport? Do they think they look cool, being all stiff and lock-jawed? They look like they're being electrocuted. I hang on with both hands and bend at the knees - I'm not impressing anybody.
7. Why do flight attendents get shoulder belts as well as lap belts in those little jump seats they sit in? If those shoulder belts increase my odds in any way, I would like some, too.
8. What does Don't Mess With Texas really mean? How would someone "mess with" a state? And what states can you mess with? Rhode Island? Idaho?
That's all.
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