The calendar has rolled around to that time of year again.
The leaves are not yet turning, there is not yet a chill or crisp smell in the air, but man's mind has turned once again to...College Football.
My husband was overjoyed the other day at the news that Charter Cable was picking up the Big Ten Network. He was practically doing handsprings! And this morning, he comes bounding up the steps with a sprightly vigor I haven't seen from him in a while to announce that BTN is on Channel 73.
So, I guess we all know where I'll be every Saturday from now until January.
Until Barack Obama is elected, this is still a free country. In honor of that fact which is in jeopardy, I post the ad that Obama is fighting tooth and nail to hide. He's employing lawyers and issuing threats, all right out of the DNC playbook. You know, for a party that is supposed to be about Democracy and Free Speech, they are running a bit short on Free Speech and...Democracy.
By the way, Obama still hasn't thrown Ayers under the bus. It is crowded down there, what with Wright, Pfleger, etc., but there is still time.
I received this via email. I don't ordinarily post this sort of thing, but this is too delightful. In fact, I now understand why I am more of a cat person than a dog person.
Excerpts from a Dog's Diary
8:00 am - Dog food! My favourite thing! 9:30 am - A car ride! My favourite thing! 9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favourite thing! 10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favourite thing! Noon - Lunch! My favourite thing! 1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favourite thing! 3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favourite thing! 5:00 pm - Milk bones! My favourite thing! 6:00 pm - Oooh, Bath. Bummer. 7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favourite thing! 8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favourite thing! 11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favourite thing!
Excerpts from a Cat's Diary
Day 983 of my captivity.
My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength.
The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet. Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a 'good little hunter' I am.
There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of 'allergies.' I must learn what this means and how to use it to my advantage.
Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow - but at the top of the stairs.
I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released - and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously a half-wit.
The bird has got to be an informant. I observe him communicating with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. For now . . .
I'm telling you, as "terrible" as the twos can be, they can be equally wonderful.
When Bunny Boop was a babe in arms and up to about 18 months old, she would like for me to sing to her. Yeah, yeah, I sing. (Or should that be "yeah, yeah, yeah"?) But, when she began to start to talk, she'd get mad at me - or frustrated - if I sang. So, I simply stopped.
During this time she developed a real interest in music and I thought that maybe my singing just wasn't good enough, or unaccompanied by music, wasn't what she wanted to hear. Now I'm thinking that wasn't the case. Rather, I think that her own inability to join in frustrated her.
A couple of months ago, she started dancing to the music from the movie Alvin and The Chipmunks. And, if you want a great laugh, you should see her do her "thankyou, thankyou" at the end of one of the numbers - after which - I'm not kidding - she bows. When I saw her enjoying this music, I decided to buy her the soundtrack. We'd be running down the road at 55 mph and there she is in her carseat, bobbing her head and pointing her little finger to the beat. She is so happy when she's doing it too!
Anyway, more recently she has begun asking me to sing. So at bedtime, she lays in my arms and I sing to her softly. It is really nice to share these moments with her. It is cozy and warm and very much about being a mommy. She's beginning to learn the songs too, recognizing the melodies and sometimes singing the last word in the line with me.
But, her all time favorite song right now is from an episode of her favorite show, The Mighty Bee. In this show, Bessie Higgenbottom learns to play the drums. She wants to join the other bees in the band The Pretty Pretty Princesses, but is rebuffed. Mostly Bessie wants to join The Princesses because of the best song ever: Runnin' with the Rainbow Unicorn.
Bunny Boop LOVES this song, she totally rocks out to it. Her hips are going, she sings along, it is super funny. Here are the lyrics:
I'm a pretty pretty princess. It's a full time gig. Everybody wants to be my friend, And it kind of makes me sick. When I'm not in my canopy bed, I'm fillin' my diary with stickers. My mom yells, "Get down here, Portia!" And I just say, "Whatever."
Because I'm runnin' with the rainbow unicorn. Don't you wish you were me? I'm runnin' with the rainbow unicorn, And I want everyone to see. I'm runnin' with the rainbow unicorn. Don't you wish you were me? I'm runnin' with the rainbow unicorn, An' I want everyone to see. Hey, look at me!
I got home on Friday night and began preparing dough for homemade chocolate donuts. My husband has been talking about his grandmother's chocolate donuts for five years and I finally managed to wrangle the recipe from his mother.
I let the dough rise once, punched it down, let it rise again, punched it down again, then put it in the fridge. Saturday morning, I got up at 5 am and said to my husband "it's time to make the donuts."
"You've been waiting all night to say that, haven't you?"
"Yep. How could I not?"
Anyway, I warmed up the dough with a quick knead and cut out the donuts with my brand new cutters. Then I went back to bed while the rose. We had donuts by 7 am.
I don't know. They were not fabulous. They were okay. I was hoping for a softer dough, I suppose. I'm going to keep working on it and see if I can improve them.
Saturday afternoon, while my husband was playing golf at University Ridge with some buddies, I baked two tasting cakes for a wedding. I baked a lemon poppy seed cake and filled it half with lemon curd, half with lemon buttercream. I also baked a white cake with half strawberry, half strawberry rhubarb filling.
We had the tasting yesterday afternoon and it appears that I'm goign to get the gig.
I'll be making the cake for this wedding. I'm more than a bit nervous, to be honest. I'm afraid of disappointing them! Not on flavor, but on the decorating. I'm just...nervous.
If you are a parent, you will understand what I mean when I say there are moments when you aren't sure if you should laugh or be very very worried.
I smacked into one such occurrence this weekend.
As I have mentioned recently, Bunny Boop is discovering imaginary play. She has also found a useful new toy in the leash someone gave her for Kitty. You'll be happy to know that Kitty has gotten a reprieve from being jerked all over the house.
Instead, it seems, my child now wears the leash.
That's right. Sunday morning I woke to the hysterically funny and alarming view of my child, with the leash loop around her upper arm and her father holding the lead. She was woof-ing it up, playing the part of puppy. I laughed at her joy in panting and licking and barking.
But, when my husband told me to "watch this" my laughter moved into that parental "oh no". My husband instructed the puppy to sit...and she sat. My husband intructed the puppy to roll over...and she rolled over. My husband instructed the puppy to lay down...and she did. Then, he pat her on the head and said "good puppy."
Dear heaven, I am not going to bake dog biscuit shaped cookies!
Yes, it is funny, and I'm not super concerned because I think it is very important mentally. On the other hand, I'm not entirely sure where she's getting all of this because we don't have a dog. And, here's the thing, when we are around animals...she won't get near them. When the dog next door barks, she jumps into my arms and wants to be carried. So, I don't really get it, but whatever.
Not going to put the child psychologist on the speed dial yet.
The following was shamelessly stolen from The Grouchy Old Cripple. It is a real letter to the editor from the Richmond Times Dispatch.
Each year I get to celebrate Independence Day twice. On June 30, I celebrate my independence day and on July 4, I celebrate America 's. This year is special because it marks the 40th anniversary of my independence.
On June 30, 1968, I escaped Communist Cuba and a few months later, I was in the United States to stay. That I happened to arrive in Rich mond on Thanksgiving Day is just part of the story, but I digress.
I've thought a lot about the anniversary this year. The election-year rhetoric has made me think a lot about Cuba and what transpired there. In the late 1950's, most Cubans thought Cuba needed a change, and they were right. So when a young leader came along, every Cuban was at least receptive.
When the young leader spoke eloquently and passionately and denounced the old system, the press fell in love with him. They never questioned who his friends were or what he really believed in. When he said he would help the farmers and the poor and bring free medical care and education to all, everyone followed. When he said he would bring justice and equality to all, everyone said "Praise the Lord." And when the young leader said, "I will be for change and I'll bring you change, everyone yelled, "Viva Fidel!"
But nobody asked about the change, so by the time the executioner's guns went silent, the people's guns had been taken away. By the time everyone was equal, they were equally poor, hungry, and oppressed. By the time everyone received their free education, it was worth nothing. By the time the press noticed, it was too late, because they were now working for him. By the time the change was finally implemented, Cuba had been knocked down a couple of notches to Third-World status. By the time the change was over, more than a million people had taken to boats, rafts, and inner tubes. You can call those who madeit ashore anywhere else in the world most fortunate Cubans. And now I'm back to the beginning of my story.
Luckily, we would never fall in America for a left-leaning young leader who promises change without asking, "What change? How will you carry it out? What will it cost America ?"
I write about Bunny Boop quite a lot, I know. She's the center of my universe.
I wanted to tell you about the funny thing that happened last night though. First, Bunny Boop is dabbling in imaginary play. In my opinion, I believe imaginary play is critical to a child's mental development. I'm no expert, but I think it helps a child learn to reason and think through problems. Imaginary Play is the original "think outside the box".
Anyway, I've told you all about Bibi the magical blanket, but I don't think I've mentioned the third in Bunny Boop's trio. And that is: Kitty, the stuffed cat formerly known as "puppy". (We finally made clear to her the difference between dogs and cats.) Kitty, Bibi, and Bunny Boop are nearly constantly together these days. And, in the event that they aren't playing together, Kitty and Bibi are never too far from Bunny's hand.
Someone gave Bunny a leash for Kitty yesterday. It is a real leash for a very small animal. Now, I am of the opinion that cat's aren't meant to be leashed, but in the case of Kitty, well, I'm all for it!
Imagine if you can the sight of a 2-year-old pulling a stuffed cat on a leash across a hardwood floor saying "c'mere Kitty, c'mere."
I have plenty of ass, but I laughed some of it off last night.
Poor Kitty. Poor Kitty's ears and tail get chewed on, she gets dragged around the house. It's hard to be Kitty.
Okay, here's a one-size-fits-all post. Mostly because it is Thursday and my first opportunity to post, and time for organizing thoughts is short.
1. Olympics, Schmolympics. Who gives a rat's ass? Am I surprised that the Chinese are cheating? Not even a little bit. Do I care?...Maybe on a fairness level, but since I have yet to watch even one nanosecond of coverage, it doesn't rank on my list. Besides, and country who would revoke a girl's opportunity to be on global television because of her teeth...isn't a country I'll be visiting with my dollars anytime soon. Bastards.
2. From the Motherhood Learning Files, am sending an alert to NASA: New Lubricant Identified! Tartar sauce makes things really slick and stands up stubbornly to our laboratory tests. Just ask Bunny Boop. She's publishing her findings in a journal very soon.
3. Russia Invades! Who's the Imperialist Asshole Country now? Yeah, I'm talking to all you limp-wristed Liberals. And, in the case of Russia, they really have no compunction about killing civilians. (crickets chirping...) I'm sure the UN will jump in with a resolution annnnnnnytime now.
4. John Edwards: The New & Improved Bill Clinton. And raise your hand if you believe he didn't father that child he's visited 3 times since it was born. Yeah, that's what I thought. Isn't it interesting how the MSM doesn't think this is news? Why, it is almost as though John Edwards wasn't a US Senator or Vice Presidential candidate or sumpin'.
5. Dear NASA: If the tartar sauce solution fails your tests, would suggest strawberry yogurt. Also an exceptional lubricant, with the added bonus of smelling tasty.
6. Nancy Pelosi: What an Idiot. And yet, somehow still preferable to Cindy Sheehan.
7. Jennifer Aniston is single again. Girl can't find a decent man. I know how that is. It was a long long ride before I found my prince charming.
8. Oh yeah, and Obama is still an unsatisfactory option for President of the United States. The man has no guts.
No more pulling punches! This article, brought to my attention by The American Geek, is spot-on. It shines the harsh light of truth on Obama's coded speech. It is high time somebody did it! I have excerpted it heavily below, because you really really really need to read it.
During his NAACP speech earlier this month, Sen. Obama repeated the term at least four times. "I've been working my entire adult life to help build an America where economic justice is being served," he said at the group's 99th annual convention in Cincinnati.
And as president, "we'll ensure that economic justice is served," he asserted. "That's what this election is about." Obama never spelled out the meaning of the term, but he didn't have to. His audience knew what he meant, judging from its thumping approval.
"Economic justice" simply means punishing the successful and redistributing their wealth by government fiat. It's a euphemism for socialism. ...
In his latest memoir he shares that he'd like to "recast" the welfare net that FDR and LBJ cast while rolling back what he derisively calls the "winner-take-all" market economy that Ronald Reagan reignited (with record gains in living standards for all).
Obama also talks about "restoring fairness to the economy," code for soaking the "rich" — a segment of society he fails to understand that includes mom-and-pop businesses filing individual tax returns.
It's clear from a close reading of his two books that he's a firm believer in class envy. He assumes the economy is a fixed pie, whereby the successful only get rich at the expense of the poor.
Following this discredited Marxist model, he believes government must step in and redistribute pieces of the pie. That requires massive transfers of wealth through government taxing and spending, a return to the entitlement days of old.
Of course, Obama is too smart to try to smuggle such hoary collectivist garbage through the front door. He's disguising the wealth transfers as "investments" — "to make America more competitive," he says, or "that give us a fighting chance," whatever that means. ...
The few who have drilled down on his radical roots have tended to downplay or pooh-pooh them.
Even skeptics have failed to connect the dots for fear of being called the d readed "r" word.
But too much is at stake in this election to continue mincing words.
Those who care less about looking politically correct than preserving the free-market individualism that's made this country great have to start calling things by their proper name to avert long-term disaster.
As they say, read the whole thing. I'll be astonished if you can still support Obama after reading it.
I guess some people can't see the forest for the trees. Some people refuse to hear anything but what they want to hear. And while lofty ideas like universal health care and a living wage for all sound really good, they end up resulted in very bad things. Like...increased taxes and losing your business and no longer being able to afford employing people. It is almost as if some people have never been to a carnival!
For the record, those carnie games are losers. Why anyone would spend $20-$50 on a $1.50 Chinese-made stuffed toy is beyond me. But that's the best analogy I can come up with. Obama is selling crap and people are lining up for the opportunity to smell the shit!
I know, I know. It has been an eternity since my last post. What can I say, I'm a busy woman.
All sorts of news to share.
First, on the Bunny Boop front, we have had our first #2 on the potty chair. I was so happy! It is really gratifying to know that we are finally making some progress on this. I am tired of buying diapers, but I am even more tired of changing diapers.
Things at work have been really really good. Really, really good. And, that explains quite a bit about why posting has been so...hit and miss.