Thursday, May 25, 2006
Cats in sinks
I don't know why Cats in Sinks exists, but something about it makes me happy.
Our own cat, the fabulous Moe, wouldn't be caught dead in a sink. She's too busy re-reading The Complete Works of William Shakespeare and finishing her novel.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Deaf ... and dumb
While the rest of the world is busy debating whether it is appropriate to use a microphone to pray during a public school graduation (no, for Christ's sake!) I have been cleaning my ears.
Yep, you heard me. This is a story about how a foreign object became lodged in my ear canal (see diagram).
It started innocently enough. I showered, put in my contacts, moisturized ... you know, the typical morning routine. Then it happened (cue the shrieking music). The cotton swab I was using in my ear LOST ITS TIP. INSIDE OF MY EAR. And instead of reacting calmly, I decided to poke the stick in my ear to see if it would ... what? magically reattach itself? I don't know! It seemed like the right thing to do at the time. So now I had a wad of cotton stuffed pretty far down in my ear.
I summoned Babycakes who said, "You want me to put WHAT, WHERE?" which is pretty effective as foreplay in our house but this time she was holding tweezers.
"You'd better have your morning coffee first," I said.
After several minutes of "would you please hold still" and "ouch! don't hurt me" she surrendered the tweezers. "This," she announced, "is why I didn't go to medical school." Well. Now we know.
I dressed, drank coffee, read the paper and began rehearsing the speech I'd give to the doctor at the immediate care center. You know what doctors say: "Don't ever put anything in your ear smaller than your elbow."
I went into the bathroom, closed my eyes, and inserted the tweezers into my ear. When I heard (felt) them bump into the cotton I sweezed them tight and gently pulled the cotton out of my ear.
I think I'll go to medical school.
Yep, you heard me. This is a story about how a foreign object became lodged in my ear canal (see diagram).
It started innocently enough. I showered, put in my contacts, moisturized ... you know, the typical morning routine. Then it happened (cue the shrieking music). The cotton swab I was using in my ear LOST ITS TIP. INSIDE OF MY EAR. And instead of reacting calmly, I decided to poke the stick in my ear to see if it would ... what? magically reattach itself? I don't know! It seemed like the right thing to do at the time. So now I had a wad of cotton stuffed pretty far down in my ear.
I summoned Babycakes who said, "You want me to put WHAT, WHERE?" which is pretty effective as foreplay in our house but this time she was holding tweezers.
"You'd better have your morning coffee first," I said.
After several minutes of "would you please hold still" and "ouch! don't hurt me" she surrendered the tweezers. "This," she announced, "is why I didn't go to medical school." Well. Now we know.
I dressed, drank coffee, read the paper and began rehearsing the speech I'd give to the doctor at the immediate care center. You know what doctors say: "Don't ever put anything in your ear smaller than your elbow."
I went into the bathroom, closed my eyes, and inserted the tweezers into my ear. When I heard (felt) them bump into the cotton I sweezed them tight and gently pulled the cotton out of my ear.
I think I'll go to medical school.
Friday, May 19, 2006
The Bubble Project
At the GEL conference a few weeks ago was the creator of The Bubble Project, Ji Lee.
I think Louisville needs to join in.
I think Louisville needs to join in.
Thursday, May 11, 2006
I'll have what she's having
This was lunch at the world-famous Katz's Deli on Manhattan's Lower East Side last Saturday. I ordered the pastrami on rye. Babycakes got a hot dog with sauerkraut. The pickles are standard. See the New York trip photos.
Tuesday, May 2, 2006
"It was a dark and stormy night ..."
This list of the best 100 first lines from novels is worth your time.
My personal favorite is Number 42.
What's yours?
My personal favorite is Number 42.
What's yours?
Bullet. Dodged.
I still have a job. My work team is intact. Other colleagues, however, suffered badly.
Now the survivor's guilt sets in.
Now the survivor's guilt sets in.
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