Sleet. Snow. A mix of crap. Grainy like sugar. Cold like death. Well, not as cold as say it was in the middle of February when our night time temperatures were far too often well below zero.
Our phone rang at 5:50. It was the school psychologist calling to let Doug know there was a two hour delay. I was shocked at how light and bright it was outside when I woke up... then I realized that not only was it light and bright from snow, the sky was light and bright because the sun was up. Geoff was up. The world was up. I can't wait for Daylight Savings time so I can get Geoff to stay in bed another hour! I'm going to have to buy light-eliminating curtains from his room. Or better yet -- take out the damn window!
So Doug had a two hour delay, Jessie had a one hour. I went back to sleep, and at 7:50 I could hear Jessica putting on her shoes and getting ready to go outside to the bus.
I jumped out of bed and told her about her delay. She was thrilled. But rather than go back to sleep for an hour, she played with Geoff and watched TV. We slept until about 8:30 when Doug finally decided he should get up and get going. I got him to take Geoff to school for me, so I've had a stay in pyjamas and drink coffee sort of morning.
A sad day for education maybe... but a good day for our family. Nice and easy morning. Mellow and relaxing. Aaaaahhhhhh.
I can't remember if I've already explained the "sad day for education" concept. I probably did the other day, but I'll spew it out again. Doug jokingly refers to snow days and delays as a sad day for education, because the kids are losing out on the time with teachers. A sad day for education, but a good day for Doug!
Almost as good as the teachers union at Springfield Elementary declaring an emergency caucus on Blizzard Friday, the last day of school before Christmas break when Skinner doesn't call off school so he can keep his Cal Ripkin like streak of school openings going...
Conga line -- Krabapple up front, martini in hand, cha-cha'ing through a ski chalet singing "Caucus Caucus Caucus! Caucus Caucus Caucus!"
You guys know how much I love the writings, rantings and Bleatings of James Lileks. Lately he's been writing a lot about the nightmare of trying to get a toddler to sleep in a big kid bed. I feel his pain.
And periodically he writes about his thoughts on the war.
Today he featured a little anecdote about the soldiers and their demeanor in this war... how a great deal of our military men and women are taking this whole thing very seriously.
He painted a picture of Robert Duvall in "Apocalypse Now" and offers that our soldiers are behaving quite the opposite.
Whiskey! Democracy! Sexy!
| "This is, of course, what a liberated Iraqi shouted to the American troops as they rumbled past. This was what America meant to him. You may say it’s a crude reduction of a shallow culture. "I say we put it on the twenty dollar bill." - James Lileks "The Bleat, 4/4/03" |
Our culture? Shallow? Hell yeah. But isn't it a beautiful thing? If this is what it boils down to, I'll take the USA any day. These are three things that Iraqi guy probably wants most in life. Being free, drinking a bit, and checkin' out dames who aren't wearing light-eliminating curtains over their heads.
Bring it on, boys and girls. Give the man what he wants. And I'm with Lileks -- let's put it on our money. Everyone whines about the "In God We Trust" bit... Democracy Whiskey Sexy is a far better motto. Don't you think?
If you're with him on this concept, Lileks provided that small logo up there for the taking. Swipe it from his site or from here, and proudly display your colors baby!
From all of the tape and the photography I've been seeing, the men and women of our military, and Great Britain, Australia, and anyone else by our side, are all very anti-Apocalypse Now. There is a tenderness that you sometimes don't see in a militarized human.
There have been some amazing photos. This one I lifted off the Fox News site, and it makes me cry. [photo missing]
I saw another cool picture of three soldiers sitting on a bench, and they were in full chem warfare gear. Two were playing Game Boy. My son wanted to know what games they were playing. There is a six year old boy here in Massachusetts who admires those guys because they like the same games as he does. And why they are there is so that other six year old boys can live free like mine. That's the way I see it.
I was going to talk about Jessica Lynch, but it's wearing me out. All I can say is that I'm glad she's okay, but sad that others were lost and still can't be found, or have been found and are dead. The nation is rallying around her, she's an icon. A 19 year old who wants to be a kindergarten teacher. She couldn't afford the $10,000 a year it probably costs to go to college in West Virginia, so she joined the Army to get money. She kicked ass. She survived. She's one hell of a brave girl, on a maintenance crew. If the maintenance chick can kick your ass, you know you've got a problem.
I hope that her recovery after returning home is full, and that she gets that job as a teacher, and is a hero for many years to come, but in a very different way.
That's my two cents on that.
The other night, South Park was all about toilet papering. I almost spit my water across the living room when they came on.
The boys were all mad at their art teacher because they made a great big clay penis and thought it was funny. So she gave them detention. They conspired to toilet paper her house.
Now, I wasn't in fifth grade when I was an expert toilet paperer, I was in high school. But the episode immediately prompted me to call my buddy Rob (mind you, he works in the public schools, it is 10pm, and I'm peeing my pants laughing).
The boys are on line at the grocery store buying two shopping carts full of TP. I'm peeing my pants, screaming... the clerk is scanning package after package of TP and not batting an eye. The boys are afraid they will look conspicuous so they get some lip balm or something, and the clerk gives them a ration of shit for buying the lip balm! I'm not able to control my laughter...
Rob answers his phone and I yell "Oh my GOD!!! DO YOU HAVE COMEDY CENTRAL ON YOUR TV!!!!!????"
He has no idea who is calling, but he says "Yeah... why?"
"Turn it on. South Park is about toilet papering." Now he knows it's me, and he flips it on and starts screaming as he sees rolls of toilet paper flying through the air as the boys do their Charmin Dance beneath the night sky... oh the memories!
We talked for an hour, laughing our asses off... going over most of the TPing exploits and capers we'd committed in our youth. Our 20 year anniversary (gah!) from high school graduation is next year. And we conspired to meet somewhere and go together to another friend's house in upstate NY and toilet paper her house... she was oft a partner in crime, and we think it'd be a riot. We need to pick a date.
Any one of many hot summer nights, 1983-84.
Setting: My living room[phone rings]
Me: "Hello?"
Rob [half in a bag, several people laughing ass behind him]: Duck Rocker! The forecast for tonight is SNOW!!!!! Will you come help us plow!!!
Me: Hell yeah! Where's it gonna snow?
Rob: John Davies Lane!!! We'll pick you up in 10 minutes.
"We" in that case was any mix of a number of good friends with some sort of personal vendetta against someone in our school.
Now, keep in mind -- this wasn't a nerds vs. preppies, hitters vs. freaks kind of thing. The targets in these TP ventures were usually all on the same level social/political/group playing field. Sometimes it was competition between people running for class office. Or people in band. It was never us "targeting" someone in a lower class, or someone less fortunate or smaller in standing.
In fact, I was the smaller in standing one -- I lived in the ghetto. But all my friends during my last year of high school were up there in the "cool" crowd. Kids with nice houses. Kids with families and their own cars.
I lived in an apartment. I never got TP'ed. One of the benefits of livin' in thu ghetto. yo.
The residence on John Davies Lane was a popular spot. Rob and I can't figure out why we hated this kid so much -- he was preppy and into school politics. To be honest, I barely knew him. We were never in the same classes -- he was a brainiac prepster. I think I hated him because he wore khakis and Izod shirts daily and was too pretentious for his own good.
Perhaps he dated someone and broke her heart. Pissed Rob off in some other way. This kid "S" got more snow in the four years we were in highschool than anyone else I know.
The funniest thing ever was when his younger sister, who was in 9th grade when I was in 12th, approached me and said "Can I ask you a favor, can you guys stop TPing our house? My dad's getting really pissed."
Of course I looked at her funny and said "You've gotta be joking, I'm not the TPing sort. You've confused me with someone else."
One night, another friend and consummate TPer "Frieda" as she was nicknamed (Rob was Rocky, I was Clifton D. Rocker, Duck Rocker, or Gertie... and this other girl was Frieda. I have NO idea how that got started either...) had it out for a girl who lived across the street from Rob.
We all went to the store and Frieda picked out ORANGE toilet paper.
Honest to God. Orange. Not peach. Not salmon. ORANGE.
We went to the goal house, and our get away would be easy because all we'd have to do was run into Rob's house upon completion. Orange TP flew all through her trees and shrubs. It was priceless. As we fled the scene, Rob twisted his ankle and had to go to the emergency room.
The next day when the girl's parents came over to yell at Rob and his parents, because the girl so knew it was him.
Rob's mom said "I have no idea what you're talking about. Rob twisted his foot at "Frieda's" and we ended up at the emergency room getting X-rays all night. You got the wrong man."
HA! We laugh and laugh to this day.
And the icing on the cake -- the victim of the TPing was running for a school office and she had made a poster with a beautiful tree on it. Frieda saw the poster and ran and got an orange magic marker... and drew TP dripping out of all the branches.
Priceless.
So Rob and I talked extensively last night about all the TP adventures. And it was a good laugh. Just the thing I needed.
Anyway. I started this entry hours ago. I'm just now finishing it. I've got so much to do. But I'm still cracking up as I recall my youth and bad behavior. In five years, I wonder if the forecast will be snow in my own front yard? Good thing we don't have any trees or shrubs up front! They'd have to come in back. And the dogs will alert us. I think we're TP proof, but time will tell. Time will tell.
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