Lions and tigers and bears, oh my! Actually, only tigers.

I’ve been busy lately and haven’t posted too much. Sorry about that. For the next few days, I am going to stay busy with work and, because Jennifer and I are going to see her family this weekend, personal stuff. Hopefully Florida will still be there after Ernesto and our flight won’t be interrupted by the threatened strike by the Northwest flight attendants. Anyway, this will probably be my only post until next week. I’ll try to take some pictures while in Florida and put them up here when I get back.

Jennifer and I went to the circus this past weekend. Because of what I perceive as exploitation of the animals, I had mixed feelings about going. While I do not want to get into an intellectual discussion about whether or not an anthropocentric view of the world is the correct one, I just think the animals are beautiful. I generally don’t like to see them taken out of their natural habitat and made to perform for people. Watching the people perform, though, is another thing entirely. In theory at least, they have a choice about being in the circus. Overall, I enjoyed it.

The show literally started off with a bang. A husband and wife duo shot themselves out of a double barrel cannon. I had never seen a human cannonball and I was not disappointed. Both barrels fired at the same time and the couple flew almost the entire length of the arena, across all three rings. At the time, I told Jennifer that, if we saw nothing else, it was worth the $11 ticket price. For a few minutes and even though there were not flaming hoops, all I could think about was the song Ophelia by Natalie Merchant:

Ophelia was a circus queen
the female cannonball
projected through five flaming hoops
to wild and shocked applause…

After the human cannon, the clowns came out and did clown stuff. The emcee or ringmaster, or whatever you call the person with the microphone, sang a ridiculous song to which the clowns did a sort of dance a couple of times, and then asked the crowd to join. I didn’t join. All the kids in the audience seemed to enjoy it, though. It reminded me a bit of a fancy hokey poky. It certainly was hokey anyway.

Some additional highlights included Mongolian pole climbers (not intended as a racial slur, they were billed as Mongolian), rope jumpers, human-powered Ferris wheel, and the sky surfers. The pole climbers were amazingly strong. They jumped from pole to pole and did other acrobatic maneuvers that seemed impossible to me. A couple even climbed the poles upside down using only their legs. The rope jumpers were from Chicago and did all sorts of gymnastic moves while continually jumping a rope. For instance, one guy did a back flip every time the rope came around. Another did push ups to jump the rope. Jumping rope doesn’t sound that impressive, but I thought it was really cool. The human-powered Ferris wheel wasn’t really a Ferris wheel, but a long beam spinning on an axis. At each end of the beam were two circular wheels in which people stood. By shifting their weight, they made the beam spin. The wheels were exactly like human-size hamster wheels. It was amazing enough to watch them spin inside the wheel, but then they got on the outside of the wheels and were spinning amazingly fast. It created the right amount of tension because I was a little scared for them. The sky surfers were trapeze artists. Why they changed the name to sky surfers, I do not know. Aren’t trapeze artists impressive enough. I certainly was impressed. Maybe they think the name is dated?

In general, the animals did not bother me quite as much as I expected. The dogs were all rescued from shelters (or at least that’s what the emcee said) and seemed to be having fun running around chasing clowns and riding on the backs of the trick ponies. I’m not sure how the ponies felt about it, but the dogs clearly were having a good time. I’ve also often read that, when taught with positive reinforcement, dogs enjoy learning and performing tricks. It gives them a sense of purpose in life. I’m not sure if the authors actually interviewed dogs for the articles I’ve read or not.

I was so awed by the elephants that I didn’t even really think to feel sorry for them. There were ten Asian elephants. I still cannot get over how big they are. I’ve seen elephants many times before, but never that many at once and never with so many people riding on them or standing near them. It really put into perspective their huge size. I was amazed that animals that big actually exist.

The animals that I did have a bit of trouble watching were the tigers. I didn’t count them, but there were approximately 10. The tiger trainer stood in the middle of one ring (enclosed with mesh fencing at least 30 feet high) while the tigers encircled him on the perimeter of the ring. Each one sat on a stool until the trainer gave them commands. They jumped through hoops, roared on command, and did all the cliched circus tiger stuff. I felt as if all the wild had been taken out of them and they were reduced to shells of tigers. There is a theory that circus tigers don’t know they have been tamed and, as long as they are fed and kept healthy, they don’t really care to have the wildness taken out of their life. There may be some validity to that theory; I certainly am not so naïve to believe that the wild life of a tiger would be cake. I just don’t necessarily want to see it. Jennifer offered that the tigers may have been rescued from bad situations like the dogs. Maybe.

Muy Bueno

I love Cuban food. I don’t wish it upon anyone, but, when Fidel kicks it, I hope the U.S. opens normal relations with Cuba because I badly want to visit Havana. One of the reasons I love Miami is because of the huge Cuban influence there, including some of my favorite restaurants.

Until I can get to Havana or back to Miami, though, I am happy to say that Little Rock now has a very good Cuban establishment of its own, Café Rumba in the Rivermarket. Jennifer and I went last week.

I liked everything about it, including the atmosphere, drinks, food, and service. I started with a mojito that was very tasty, in a mojito sort of way; it was the correct mixture of rum, lime, and club soda. We had fried plantain rounds as an appetizer. They were great, but it would be really hard to mess plantains up. My entrée came with a salad that mostly consisted of lettuce, fresh onions, and fresh tomatoes. It was good owing mostly to the Italian-like dressing that was heavily infused with mango. The mango’s sweetness worked surprisingly well with the acidity of the vinegar. Finally, my entrée was grilled fish (sadly, I don’t remember what kind – maybe tuna or salmon) with a fruit salsa. It was perfectly grilled; done enough but not overcooked. I loved it. The fish came with a side of black beans and Cuban rice.

Reading, Listening, and Watching…

Most of the time, I type my posts in Microsoft Word and then cut and paste them into Blogger. Last night, I typed a fairly extensive post that detailed what I am currently watching, reading, and listening. Before I saved it or copied it into Blogger, I accidentally closed Word and lost it. I didn’t have the gumption to type it all again, so I’m just posting a list:

Reading

The Life of Pi by Yann Martel. One of my favorite books that I am reading again. Everyone should read it. It’s about true religion, and how we deal with life. It’s well written and funny too.

The Ocean Almanac by Robert Hendrickson. Specifically, the chapters about pirates.

Listening

Supernature by Goldfrapp. Just plain fun. You’ve probably heard at least one of the songs in commercials.

Dummy by Portishead. One of my favorite CDs. Even though it’s 12 years old now, it doesn’t feel at all dated.

Watching

The Descent. A scary movie that manages to wrap plot and character development into the story. Not merely a cliched slasher pic.

Snakes on a Plane. Not as bad as I expected. It is entertaining, if unbelievable.

Elevator Confessions

When I was going to lunch yesterday, the elevator stopped on the 5th floor and five engineers boarded. They were talking animatedly about someone named Patsy being upset. I don’t know why Patsy was upset, but, from the tone of awe they maintained about Patsy, I quickly came to believe that she is someone with a fair amount of authority. While they clearly believed that Patsy would make someone answer for his or her transgressions, it was readily apparent that Patsy’s wrath was not directed at any of my elevator companions; they joked back and forth about never crossing Patsy.

After a few seconds, they were quiet and, thinking that they realized I was not one of their kind, I believed the discussion had ended. Then suddenly, one of them asked rhetorically, “You know the beginning of The Matrix when Trinity jumps up in the air and the camera shows her in slow motion just before she takes out several police officers without much effort?” He continued without waiting for an answer, “That’s how I imagine Patsy initially reacted when she heard.” They all laughed out loud.

Even not knowing much about the situation, I smiled broadly. I love it when people use pop culture references to illustrate what they think or how they feel about a situation. Obviously, you have to understand your audience and know when it is appropriate and when it is not. Clearly, with an elevator full of engineers and one nerdy lawyer, it was appropriate.

Aristotle, Newton and Einstein

I almost always drive to work on Rebsamen Park Road. Its path is very close to the Arkansas River in a couple of places. I enjoy seeing the river early in the morning when, especially in spring and autumn, it is often shrouded in fog. I also frequently see deer and other wildlife.

To get to Rebsamen Park Road, I drive out of my neighborhood on Overlook Drive. I don’t know with 100% certainty, but I suspect it’s called Overlook because it literally descends a small mountain that overlooks the river, the I-430 bridge that crosses the river, and Murray lock and dam. It’s a view that, in the monotony of every day, I sometimes forget to appreciate.

Yesterday, I was a little late for work and drove down Overlook not paying attention to much of anything. When I got to the bottom of the road and was about to merge onto Rebsamen Park Road, I looked up to see a huge hot air balloon hanging in the air above the river and the dam. I’m not sure why, but it totally surprised me; I think mostly because it was not something I had come to take for granted on my morning drive. Its rainbow-colored sections ran vertically along the balloon.

I found it totally and utterly beautiful, not just aesthetically. The balloon’s very existence reminded me that mankind can, given the appropriate circumstances, be totally ingenious and creative. Sometimes, I get despondent about the state of our world and how messed up it is. Yesterday, though, something as simple as a balloon reminded me that humans are sometimes cool. I know nothing about hot air balloons or their various uses, but I like to believe the balloon’s pilot did it solely for enjoyment. I like the thought of him or her creating a big, multi-colored cloud solely for the viewing enjoyment of others, or possibly to defy gravity for at least a little while.

Movies

Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby

Will Ferrell has yet to disappoint me. It’s silly, but it’s hilarious. I was entertained the whole movie, but there were a few scenes when I laughed out loud. During one, I laughed so much that I cried.

Cache

A taut, engrossing thriller. It is political without being preachy. It explores how a person lives with guilt and, metaphorically, how a nation reacts to shameful government actions. The acting is superb, particularly Juliette Binoche. As a warning, it is in French so, unless you happen to speak French, be prepared for subtitles. Overall, I was highly impressed.

Tristram Shandy: A Cock and Bull Story

It’s based on a famous English novel, about the life of an 18th century aristocrat, that was said to be impossible to film as a movie. If this movie is any indication, I agree. It sort of meanders about, not really telling a story of any kind. Given, there are a handful of scenes I found very funny, even though they could have been stolen directly from a Monty Python sketch. But the scenes weren’t funny enough to merit wasting my time on the rest of the mess.

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang

I was a bit skeptical about seeing a updated noir film, a genre I have never appreciated. But from beginning to end, I loved this movie. It’s funny, well acted, and visually pleasing. Robert Downey, Jr. is perfect as a criminal who decides to begin an acting career while posing as a private investigator to impress a woman. Val Kilmer, as a real private investigator, is equally funny. I cannot recommend it enough.

Billy is a Rock ‘n Roller

I went to Dam Goode pies tonight, the older one in Hillcrest. I prefer it to the newer one in the Heights. The crowd is more to my liking, less bourgeois. It being a lazy early Saturday evening when I left, Jennifer decided not to go. I’ve only recently discovered that I am probably in the minority in that I don’t mind eating or going to a movie by myself. I realize the movie connection seems random. But it seems that, almost every time I talk about going to a movie alone, someone will interject that, in addition to attending a movie alone, they would never go to a restaurant without a companion. I am comfortable with either. No one to worry about except me.

When I got to Dam Goode, I picked up an Arkansas Times from the rack outside the entrance. I don’t read it regularly but sometimes it’s nice to read a local publication with which I can politically identify (mostly). I took the paper upstairs and, with a cowboy mentality, sat down in the corner booth, facing the room and the top of the stairs. I started reading and a jovial young waiter quickly appeared to ask me what I wanted to drink. I told him that I’d like a PBR. He offered me a menu. I told him that I didn’t need one and ordered a greek salad and a small spicy five pizza. He disappeared and returned shortly with my PBR.

I paid little attention to my fellow patrons until a young family (a couple, two daughters, and a younger son – the oldest daughter must have been eight or less) came in and sat at a long table near my booth. As I suspect most young families are, they were quite loud. As Dam Goode is not a fine dining institution, I didn’t find it particularly offensive. But I did find it hard to concentrate on reading any of the articles in the Times, so I ate my pizza, drank my PBR, and flipped through the paper casually.

One of the things I noticed in the paper is an advertisement for Magic Springs. To entice people to buy a season pass to the, at best, second rate theme park, the ad promises, “5 CONCERTS FOR ONLY $49.95.” At first, I didn’t realize it was an ad for Magic Springs and the boldface caption caught my eye and piqued my interest. As I looked a little closer, though, I realized that I would pay $49.95 just to stay clear of, besides the other promised acts, Air Supply and Rick Springfield.

As I was laughing to myself at the anemic lineup, I noticed the commotion at the adjacent table. The happy young waiter had returned to take the family’s order. The father asked distantly, “Kids what do you want?” Without waiting for an answer, he said, “We’ll have a large cheese pizza.” The waiter looked at him with a sort of blank stare and the father blurted out, “Oh yeah, drinks!” He pointed at his wife and said, “Two Diet Cokes for us. Girls how ‘bout you?” Almost simultaneously, they answered, “Sprite.” Dad looked at the boy and asked, “Billy, what do you want to drink, Sprite?” Billy looked at his father and, with very clear annunciation, said, “I want Coke.” His dad looked at the waiter and said, “He’ll have Sprite too.” The waiter murmured something and walked off, writing on his order pad.

Billy pouted in silence, clearly upset at being vetoed. I returned my attention to the paper for a few seconds until I was interrupted by Billy’s whining. His dad looked at him and, clearly knowing the answer before he opened his mouth, asked, “What?” For a couple of seconds, Billy was silent and just stared at the table. Then suddenly, he looked across the table at his father and, with great disdain in his voice, said, “You know what.” “No, I don’t. What is wrong with you?” Billy’s face darkened and he quietly asked, “How could you forget?” With out waiting for a response, he yelled at the top of his lungs, “I HATE SPRITE! I HATE IT!”

I don’t think Billy needed the caffeine in a Coke, but I think his father deserved Billy’s scorn.

Free advertising for Steve Jobs

Along with a few other items, I bought Jennifer a new MacBook for her birthday this year. Given that, during her last year of pharmacy school, three months of her rotations will be away from home, she really needed a notebook computer. We have an old one that would have worked okay, but no on likes to use an old, slow computer. She has wanted a Mac for some time and the timing provided a good justification.

I haven’t specifically discussed it with her, but I believe she is pleased. I haven’t heard her complain about it at all. Personally, I know that I couldn’t be happier with it. Whenever I have the opportunity, I use it now instead of the Microsoft Windows based desktop that I used to use for non-work computing (I’m typing this post on it). The improvement over a Windows machine is astounding. Things work well and quickly. When the power button is pushed, the computer turns on without cycling through a bunch of screens. When I plugged in the printer for the first time, I didn’t have to search for drivers. It just printed. Internet sites open quickly, and detecting and configuring the computer for our home network took approximately two seconds. In short, it works just as a computer should.

An added bonus is the packaging. I love the dreamy, smooth, iPod white exterior. The screen is shiny with great resolution. The keys make very little noise when stricken. It even has a built in camera at the top of the screen for video conferencing or taking snap shots, although manipulating the camera for snapshots is a bit clumsy.

The only drawback that I have found is getting accustomed to Mac OS X. I know that it could run windows, but, because it seems to be much more user friendly and intuitive, I really want to learn the Mac environment well. For some reason, the biggest adjustment for me has been only one mouse button.

Regardless, I cannot recommend the new MacBook enough. Next year, when we have two incomes again, I plan to buy one for myself and discard any Microsoft machines in this household.

Pure lack of courtesy

A few weeks ago, I started going to a gym near our house. After the initial shock of getting back in the habit, I’ve enjoyed it. I honestly feel and sleep better when I exercise regularly.

Throughout the week, I usually go around 8:00 p.m. It’s a good time because not many people like to go that late at night. Last night was a bit of an exception. When I arrived, I was disappointed to see six other people inside. Obviously, it still wasn’t a crowd. But I prefer to see only the two, or maybe, three people usually there at that time.

The aerobic machines face a bank of televisions and, as I sat down on a recumbent bicycle last night, I was exceedingly disappointed to realize that someone had turned one of the televisions on so loudly that I could hear it over the Pearl Jam I was listening to on my iPod. A few things about the situation irritated me. First, no one needs to have the television that loud. I realize television volume is a personal preference, but the gym is a semi-public place and the whole of the gym should not be subjected to one person’s whims. Second, our gym is kind enough to have provided receivers on each of the aerobic machines to plug in earphones and listen to the televisions without bothering anyone else. Third, if you can’t stay away from the television long enough to work out, you’ve got a problem. Finally, I happened to despise the program and I couldn’t get away from it.

I wasn’t feeling very confrontational. Had I been in a different mood, I would have asked the group at large if I could turn down the T.V. just enough so I could hear my iPod. I suffered in silence.

To whichever one of you jerks that turned the T.V. on so loudly last night: have a bit of courtesy for others and, while you are at the gym, get some freaking headphones if you want to watch television while you exercise.

Where is the outrage?

Disclaimer: this is the second consecutive day that my posts have taken a serious tone. Because I’ve gotten a little riled up about political issues the past few days, this one in particular is full of piss and vinegar. Please keep in mind that, whatever you happen to feel about issues, I respect your right to have opinions. I have very strong opinions about most things, but I like to think that I will never discount the opinions of others and I certainly do not think less of people who hold different opinions than my own (I’d have to disown most of my family if that were the case – maybe some day I’ll write about having different political opinions than most of my family; it’s a weird vibe).

Lately, I’ve been listening quite a bit to Mirah’s latest CD, C’mon Miracle. I think the whole CD is highly enjoyable but, with the Hezbollah/Israel thing going on lately, one of the tracks, Jerusalem, seems particularly timely. Here are the lyrics:

We celebrate the wars we won
The blood of history’s ancient sons
We followed Judah Maccabee
We fought against iniquity
We saved ourselves with help from one
Who loves his children, everyone
Everyone, everyone
Everyone, everyone

So now Jerusalem, you know that it’s not right
After all you’ve been through, you should know better than
To become the wicked ones almighty God once saved you from

The lessons we should learn from all
The fighting in the days of old
When providence was still divine
The sanctuary purified
Let lightning circle all you hold
And then uproot the olive grove

So now Jerusalem, you know that it’s not right
After all you’ve been through, you should know better than
To become the wicked ones almighty god once saved you from

So now Jerusalem, you know that it’s not right
After all you’ve been through, you should know better than

I certainly do not intend to imply that Israel is wrong with its actions against Hezbollah. There really are no good answers to the situation. On one hand, I think that Israel has a right to defend itself. On the other, I think that good rarely results from violence and civilian deaths, on the Lebanese side, seem to be mounting too quickly. Even though she isn’t clear about particular actions she found upsetting, I like that Mirah expresses her opinion on political issues but still creates a beautiful song. For whatever it’s worth, Mirah happens to be Jewish. I’m not sure that gives her any more right to criticize the actions of the State of Israel, but, even though it’s probably not a dispositive connection, it seems, in my mind, to give her a little more insight into the issues.

On another note and as if NPR didn’t cover it enough this morning while I was getting ready for work, I opened cnn.com this morning to read about the foiled terror plot to blow up transatlantic flights from England. I was a bit offended to find, along with real news, headlines about Suri Cruise and Robin Williams’ alcoholism. I am continually amazed and outraged at the obsession people in the United States have with celebrity. I like pop culture; I really do. But I like to think that I stay well informed about serious issues. I don’t think that’s true of everyone, and I am sort of sickened by it. Maybe it’s naïve or possibly arrogant, but I can hardly believe that fewer people voted in the last presidential election than that year’s American Idol. I’ve pointed to that infuriating statistic in the past and I probably will again – I just find it barely believable. I know I’m repeating myself and I apologize; I just almost can’t accept it.

Finally, how does the Bush administration have any supporters left? I’m just going to leave it at that. I’d like someone to convince me that it isn’t as terrible as I think it is. I really would. I don’t want to think that it’s as bad as I think; I honestly sometimes find thinking about it so depressing that I have to stop. Because it has such die-hard supporters, sometimes I feel like I’m stupid or crazy for disliking it so much.

Tragedy vs. Statistic. I don’t think Stalin was right.

On the evening of July 29, I was hanging out doing pretty much nothing except eating a tuna sandwich and some blueberries and doing some laundry. I also read a bit. It was fairly relaxing, but, as almost always happens when I have some leisure time, my thoughts turned more serious. I do not recall what I was reading and if that is what precipitated my thoughts or not. But at 6:27 p.m., I was reminded of a conversation I had with my mother the previous week.

When I spoke to her, she was on her way to Little Rock, somewhere north of Conway. A friend of hers periodically comes to Little Rock. Mom sometimes accompanies her friend, and we meet for lunch when our schedules permit. I called that day to make sure they were on time and make sure we were still meeting. She confirmed they were in fact on time. I said, “Well, I guess I’ll see you in a hour or so at my house.” She responded with, “Lord willing.”

I didn’t say anything to her but I hate that response. Why wouldn’t God will it? I do not believe God chooses to cause mothers, coming to have lunch with their sons, to have car accidents. While it certainly was possible that someone could have crossed the center line and hit their car head on, God wouldn’t have caused it. I’m sick to death of people who believe, as I do, in God’s omniscience also blaming him for everything that happens in life.

It’s obvious to me that God gave us free will. We are each able to basically do whatever we want, whenever we want. Sure, there are economic, moral, societal, and political pressures to do what we ought. But each of us may choose to ignore those mores, or, perhaps more appropriately, influences. As an example, I point to those who choose to unjustly take the lives of fellow humans. Virtually anyone, no matter what set of values they happen to have adopted, would agree that killing others is generally not moral. I could make a trip to Florence, Colorado and ask crazy Ted Kaczyinski why he mailed the bombs that killed three people, not to mention the twenty-nine others he injured. He would probably spout some half-logical arguments about how further technological progress is unnatural and, if left unchecked, will eventually change the world in some terrible, undesirable manner. The bottom line is that he chose to do it for political and economic reasons of his own. He chose.

Free will, in my mind, explains many bad things that happen to humans, which leads me back to the example of a car wreck. I don’t know the actual statistics but, according to the public service type advertisement campaigns we are all inundated with, many innocent people die each year at the hands of drunk drivers. I doubt few, if any, of those drivers intend to get drunk, crash their car, and kill innocent people. Still, they choose to do it. Their free will becomes someone else’s fate.

On a larger scale, though free will is a problematic explanation for seemingly natural disasters that kill large numbers of people. Are such things God’s wrath? Could it be that free will and the sin we have inherited have screwed up this world so terribly that such things happen? I certainly don’t believe the former. I cannot accept that God got pissed at 230,000 people and caused the 2004 Indian Ocean Tsunami to wipe them off the face of the earth. I will not accept that explanation. C.S. Lewis would have us believe the latter. It certainly is an explanation, but I find it hard to wrap my mind around on such a grand scale.

These are the sort of thoughts I have sometimes. I happened to write these particular thoughts down on that lazy Saturday night a few days ago. To paraphrase the immortal words of Lloyd Dobler: I could not figure it all out that night, I just wanted to hang.

I wouldn’t go so far as to call a dog filthy…

Even though I am sometimes amazed that, in spite of some of the revolting things dogs do, we still allow them into our homes, I don’t think I would have it any other way. One of Jennifer’s professors refers to dogs as fuzzy Prozac. I agree with him. After a long day’s work, there is almost nothing better than coming home to our dogs, Zoie and Sadie. They are always glad to see me. It doesn’t matter how long I’ve been away, who I’ve fought with, or what I’ve done. They look up at me with their big brown eyes, wag their tails, and bark as if they are announcing the arrival of someone important. Never mind that it is probably a conditioned reaction because I usually give them a treat when I get home, or play ball with them for a while. It’s fun for me and it’s fun for them.

Here is a picture of each of them:

Starting a couple of weeks ago and for about a week, they weren’t so much fun to be around. Something had died in our backyard. I say something because I looked throughout the backyard once, Jennifer looked twice, and neither of us could find the culprit. We know there was something dead because, when the dogs would go outside, they would roll in whatever it was. They would come in smelling like death. There is no other way to describe it.

While I found it utterly disgusting, on a certain level I also found it amusing. They would come inside, acting as if nothing were different, business as usual, wanting a cookie or a rawhide; the smell of death would fill the whole room. They were totally oblivious to our disgust at their very presence. There is an episode of Beavis and Butthead where they wash the neighbor’s dog because the neighbor says, “she’s been rolling in her sick.” The depiction of that dog is a perfect visual because, in order to represent the disgusting smell, Mike Judge drew the dog with these really heavy black, wavy lines emanating from her. Every time I would smell our dogs, that Beavis and Butthead episode always came to my mind.

Sadie (the beagle) was worse about it than Zoie (the golden/lab mix). Sadie had three baths over the week-long period. Zoie just had one. After Sadie’s second bath, we started watching them to try to see where they were going. Partially because it is a lot of work to watch them the whole time they are outside, we had no luck. She found whatever it was one more time. The Terminix lady had sprayed our yard a few days before they started dousing themselves in their dog perfume. I suspect that the lawn treatment killed something and it took a couple of days before it started decomposing and the dogs found it.

Regardless, I’m glad it’s over and things are back to normal. They both get a bit normal dog-smelly after a few weeks without a bath. I can handle that, but I can’t handle the smell of death.

Work Stuff

A couple of weeks ago, someone I work with sent me one of those aluminum buckets of popcorn divided inside into cheese, butter, and caramel. I put it on a table outside my office and asked the departmental assistant to email everyone and let them know to help themselves. She took a Styrofoam coffee cup, for a scoop, and a roll of paper towels, for makeshift paper plates and put them on the table beside the popcorn. At first, people swarmed. I heard them, in rapid succession, pulling off the metal lid with a muffled clang and rummaging through the popcorn. Because it reminded me of, when I was growing up on the farm, opening a similar, only larger, metal container of grain for cattle, scooping it out with a gallon Folgers’ coffee can and into a plastic five gallon bucket, I was a little bit grossed out at first. After the initial rush, the pace slowed down but I still hear it a few times each day. It is amazing how long the popcorn has lasted. I guess people only get a little bit at a time. Because I cannot get the grain analogy out of my head, I am now more disgusted each time I hear someone scooping. It is never quiet.

On a different subject, I am sick of wearing the same thing every day, pants and a button down shirt. Every day. I would go buy some new clothes, but business casual is required at my work and how much can it really be changed up? I wear pull over, polo-type shirts some days. I’ve never really liked them, though, and prefer a button down. Sometimes I also change it up by wearing a suit. I like a suit, it’s easy and it looks nice. With the global warming and all the past couple of months, however, I haven’t felt like putting on a jacket. The monotony makes me feel as if we are all a bunch of robots or puppets and some master Geppetto out there puts on our clothes every day, different colors of the same thing. It is depressing.

Greeting cards are always inadequate

The mother of one of my coworkers died this week. My coworker is a very private person and asked that no one from my office attend the funeral. I respect that; I am similar in many ways. In response, we collectively sent flowers and a sympathy card. How terrifically inadequate are flowers and a greeting card? The person who cared for, and protected, my coworker when she was completely vulnerable to all the dangers of this world, left this life. All we could do was send a greeting card? Seriously?

Unfortunately, I’m not certain there is much more that anyone can do. In fairness to the person who picked the greeting card, it was as appropriate a card as I have seen. Usually, I hate the cheesy, greeting (or sympathy) card drivel dreamed up by Hallmark, or worse, some other company trying to play off people’s emotions. This card, though, basically said that we realize nothing can be done to minimize the loss you are experiencing, but please remember that, if you need anything, we will be there for you. Frankly, it’s a pretty big task to say that we are there for you as a replacement for your mother. I think no one can do that. Still, we all do what we can.

When you sign a sympathy card, what do you write? I always want to write, “Wow, it really sucks that people we love have to die. I wish that I could bring them back to life like Lazarus so you wouldn’t feel such excruciating pain.” Not really appropriate for work. I wrote, “Wishing you and your family comfort during this time. David.”

I’m baffled by this experience.