Tough to take a bad shot of children in a bubble bath. The boys sure do love the occasional evening bath in Mom & Dad’s room.
There’s a “traffic is so bad around here” thread in hsv.general once a year or so: why can’t people use turn signals, what’s so hard to understand about “slower traffic keep right,” and so forth. I don’t often enter these bleatfests, but when I do I usually invite the complainant(s) to visit Atlanta or Washington D.C. and get back to me.
In the realms of humor and commentary, driving is right up there with air travel: beaten excessively and only marginally amusing to start with. So I promise I’ll keep the driving gripes infrequent. That said, here’s my peeve that I don’t think gets enough press:
Regularly I see motorists who insist on attempting lengthy and/or complex left turns that are difficult anytime but 3 a.m., and essentially impossible at rush hour or lunch without stopping multiple lanes of traffic in multiple directions.
To anyone reading who does that: you are being an obnoxious asshole, and no, I will not help you. I don’t wish to be integrated into your disaster in case we have a misinterpreted headlight flash or nod somewhere amongst the five or six motorists whose simultaneous cooperation and inconvenience your selfish plan requires. And plus, I find your total lack of consideration appalling and unbecoming of a member of modern western civilization.
In fact, given the opportunity, I will place the Bomobile directly in front of your vehicle and I will laugh at you.
For those in my part of the world, here are some scenarios representative of what I’m talking about:
- Perp is leaving the gas station on the southwest corner of University and Jordan and attempting to turn north onto Jordan from the east exit
- Perp is leaving Madison Square Mall and attempting to turn north onto Old Monrovia from the northernmost exit on the east side
- Perp is attempting to turn east onto Madison Boulevard from Celtic Dr.
You know? Those people?
Turn right and turn around!
The second of Lea’s pair of 1992 cats died Thanksgiving weekend, so we’ve been without an inside quadruped since then. We’ve been actively talking about another cat for a couple of weeks. Lea’s been steadily emailing me pictures of Oliver, a cat who’s been hanging at an animal shelter in Athens, for almost that long.
Well, she sent me one today, and I called her and asked her to go get him after she picked Nathan up from preschool. So he’s here, and he’s cool. (He’s lounging on Nathan’s bed above.) He wasn’t advertised as a Russian Blue, but he may well be (and if he isn’t, he’s got all that I always thought was cool about one anyway). He’s two years old and has been declawed. Lea and I had already decided against declawing our next cat, though we’ll certainly take one that’s already that way.
He’s affectionate, seems to be good with the boys, and is roaming nicely. (Seems appreciative of the elbow room.) And man, he’s a good-lookin’ dude, if I do say so. Welcome, big guy!
It’s been quite some time since I really cared about the NFL, but Saintseester and her peeps actually got me a bit excited about New Orleans this postseason. Unfortunately they lost the NFC championship rather brutally this afternoon, though that 80-some-yard Reggie Bush TD was a thing of beauty. Hang tough, Saints fans; best I can tell, next year looks bright.
So Super Bowl XLI is the Colts vs. the Bears. Usually for the “big game” I can find something to hang my hat on and pick a side. Last year, for example, it was Shaun Alexander–the best running back who ever played at Alabama and one of the finest men in professional sports. If there’s not a ‘Bama player or two who gave me good memories playing, then I can pull for a team based on geography.
But I got squat this year. There are two SEC quarterbacks, but they’re Peyton Manning, whose skill I respect but who was an obnoxious and ungracious winner at Tennessee; and Rex Grossman, who was a pouty whiny cry-baby when things didn’t go exactly the way he wanted them to at Florida. I still remember him looking like he was going to cry at a no-call.
So I probably won’t even notice it’s Super Bowl Sunday. When is it this year? April 22 or so?
Lea, the boys, and I were headed to the lake for Thanksgiving dinner one year, and one of the little churches we pass had the following on their sign:
HANGING OF THE GREENS
SUNDAY EVENING SERVICE, 7 PM
I looked at Lea and said “wow, you know, I’m sure whatever the Greens did, simply asking them to leave the church would be sufficient.”