Services Rendered

The privately owned rescue dogs of 9/11. Great slide show.

Mouths of Babes

A couple months ago, I got a call from an old college pal asking if I would meet with one of her sons, recently graduated from high school and about to enter UNM, who is interested in becoming a writer. This is a gal that I’ve maintained at least a semblance of contact with since the early 1990s. In fact, I like to think that in a round about way, I'm responsible for her son being on this planet.

It was sophomore year of college, first day of what I think was an American history class, and I was running late. Class had just begun, so I sat myself down in the first seat I saw, right next to—hello!— this really cute dude who looked almost exactly like how Tom Cruise was looking in those days, as in: not-yet-revealed-to-the-world-as-bat-shit-crazy-adorable.

He was also wearing a tee shirt with the word FIAT on it, which gave me the perfect opening during break.

Moi: “So, you drive a Fiat?”

Him: Adorable smile: “I wouldn’t really call it ‘drive.’”

Moi: Blink.

Him: “Do you know what Fiat stands for?”

Moi: Blink, blink.

Him: Again with the adorable smile: “Fix It Again, Todd.”

Right then and there I decided I had no choice but to absolutely go after Todd with as much laser-focused effort as I could muster in between a life filled with class, work, keggers, and shopping. Which effort, alas, turned out to earn me a great big ol’ F for “fail,” because instead of falling for me, Todd fell hard for one of my friends, a pretty blond named Patty.

So hard that several weeks after meeting her, he cornered me during lunch, begging me to ask Patty if she were interested in him. What could I do? I did the right thing and said, I don’t have to ask, she digs ya, too. Go for it.

And so they started dating and when he cornered me again a few months later and said he was head over heels in love with her, what should he do, should he ask her to marry him? Again, what could I do? I did he right thing and said, yes, she adores you, is madly, passionately in love with you, we’ve been stalking your house for weeks and I need to get some sleep already, so go for it. And you know what? He did and they’re still head over heels in love with each other. Which turned out to be just fine with me. They were made for each other, and I was made to, well, date other people.

Anyway, fast forward a couple years to summer after graduation and I get a note from Todd and Patty saying Todd joined the army and they’re headed to Italy for the duration. Four years later, they’re back in town, Patty’s pregnant, and soon they produce what has to be the cutest baby boy I’ve ever seen in my life. So cute, in fact, that I lost all control of my senses and actually offered to give up two of my prime dating nights a month to babysit for this child just so I could nibble on his chubby cheeks and knees. Thankfully, I only had to do this once (Todd is possessed of a very large, much more diaper-changing-adept, family.)

Thereafter, things happen in both our lives, they have another baby, blah, blah, blah, I get married and divorced, blah, blah, blah, and eventually our contact is limited to once-a-year Christmas cards.

Until a few years back when we hooked up through Facebook. Fast forward to the “Can you talk with Tyler and advise him on becoming a writer?” query of a few months ago, and I find myself face-to-face with a handsome, 6’5”, 200-pound version of the baby whose cheeks I used to pinch, only one who now drives a motorcycle and calls me “ma’am.” We sit down with our lunch and our sodas and I begin to discuss the pros and cons of writing as a career, with an emphasis on the con side of the list. After all, I don’t want to shine this kid on.

When I get to the part where I say, “Are you sure there isn’t anything else you’d rather be doing?” he stops me. Although he has his mother’s coloring and facial features, the look in his eyes is 100 percent his father’s. “No, seriously,” he says. “I’ve thought about this and thought about this and this is something I really want to do. I need your help so I know I’m going about it the right way.”

What could I do? I did the right thing and told him to go for it.

Haiku Mondays: VENEER

Miss Represent

California girls?
Not even their hair is real.
Surface is substance.

* * *

Miss Fleur was our winner last week with another one of her finely honed haiku and so is hosting again this week. Very interesting theme. Should bring out some fun ones.

Dear U.S. Government

Shock the Monkies

Is is just me, or are you all also getting tired of the escalating hysterical tone creeping into every corner of our news media? Just this morning, a local Albuquerque news anchor was reporting on an incident in Newport Beach, CA, involving a teenage boy who was digging a pit on the beach, when the pit caved in on him, trapping him for about 20 minutes. Twenty minutes. About the right amount of time it takes for a good half dozen people on a crowded beach to notice what happened and to dig him out with their hands.

Hardly anything to get worked up about, right? And if you think about it, the story is more funny than scary.

But here's our local reporter: "The boy will appear on this morning's Today show in an exclusive interview to talk about his frightening ordeal."

Note the excessive use of hysteria-laden adjectives here: "Exclusive," "frightening," "ordeal." Had I written that back in my college days, my professor would have bled all over it, sent it back to me in the form of a paper airplane with the words Dumb Shit written on the wings, and then applied his boot to my butt before giving me an F and sending me off to the nearest Wimmin's Study class.

Where, at some point in the middle of Post World War II Feminist Thought: A Praxis for the Community, it finally would have hit me: "The teen will appear on this morning's Today show to talk about what happened." D'oh!

Of course, this isn't the worst of it. Turn on any national news outlet, from NBC Nightly News to MSNBC to Fox to CNN, and you'll hear a similar sort of editorializing used to report on everything from localized events to national crises of confidence.

Which leads me to wonder: if everything is painted with the same broad brush strokes of anxiety and fear, how on earth are we ever going to be able to calm down long enough to think and distinguish real problems (our national debt, escalating military actions, cough, cough) from those created as paper tiger crises to propagate a political agenda (war on drugs, climate change, entitlement payments, cough, cough).

Oh. That's right. We're not supposed to think. We're supposed to follow.

Movie Clip Wednesdays: Best Movie From a TV Series

One of my all time favorite television shows translated into one of my all-time favorite movies. Mainly, because I do so identify with Wednesday Addams. Such a cute little anarchist. This scene never fails to crack me right the heck up.

"For these reasons, I have decided to scalp you, and burn your village to the ground."

Bwahahahahaha!

Go Chippewas!



Miss Joanna Cake remains our hostess with the mostest for this weekly meme, so head over to her blog to see who else is playing this week.

Haiku Mondays: WHISTLE

This week's Haiku Monday contest is courtesy Aunty Belle and involves Old School Haiku Rules implemented in the service of the theme of Whistle. I'm facing some majorly tight deadlines and general pissed off-edness at the State of our Dis-Union, but a feisty little critter who nearly dive bombed me on this morning's walk served as nick-of-time inspiration:

Thumb-sized avian's
wing trill tattoos air. Warning!
Hummingbird domain.

Head over to Aunty's for more whistlers-while-they-workers.