Category Archives: questions

Twins separated at birth

Did you read this story about the twins born by c-section at midnight of New Year’s Eve in Illinois?

Doctors pulled out the girl in 2010 and then the boy in 2011. All planned out.

What are people thinking? Or maybe, what are the doctors thinking? Get your patient’s kid in as Baby 1? Or is this what they do for grins these days given the increasing numbers of monotonous c-sections?

Whatever. Smirk, Doc, if you want. The parents totally missed having a tax deduction in 2010 on that boy.

Then, I had to go read the article’s comments. It’s become a train wreck thing for me now, reading news stories’ comments. I don’t want to, but I can’t seem to stop myself.

Like a calorie-free 1 lb. bag of peanut M&Ms.

Including the feeling sick afterwards.

Don’t page down, don’t click to read comments, don’t you do it, Wendy, nooooooooo.

ARGH! I did it.

Know what they riffed off on in comments? You’d never guess.

rowdy (ID name) picked up on the fact that the parents had different last names and wrote that it was sad another unmarried couple is on the front page for New Year’s.

And then it went from there.

Judge, judge, judge-y, judge their worthless judge-y self.

Even a staff member chimed in that you kids should play nice or go home (more or less).

Why do I do it? Why keep reading those things? Should news stories allow comments? Do you read those things?

Or gasp are you commenting in them?

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stealing art

Okay, I didn’t really steal any art. I’m not starting a Thomas Crowne affair, or even snatching 100′s of bird skins like that 22-year-old US student did in England (how do you smuggle 300 birds without a trail of feathers?).

No, I just took a few snaps at our own Seattle Art Museum. I mean, it was for educational purposes this time.

It all started when I volunteered to be fed to the lions my daughter’s 2nd grade class art docent. Which means I come every now and then to lead an art discussion and freeforall, chaotic mess project with them. Sort of an unpaid art instructor (yay, another unpaid job!).

And lo and behold, here comes Pablo Picasso in a special exhibit to SAM while the Musee Picasso in Paris is renovated.

So, I saw my opportunity and I grabbed it!
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They had a great variety from Picasso’s long life of creations.
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After gathering a few snappies, I went back to school and had the kids draw their own self-portraits in a Picasso style (which I have not stolen pictures of yet…hm, too easy, I guess).
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You’d think I’d take better shots by now since I had a little practice at the Calder exhibit…shhhhh.
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You have to wonder why, over thousands of years, people have felt the urge to create art. Is it an innate factor? Is there an art gene? Is it some calming or comforting feeling we get? Is it an escape? Or is it a charge forward into our true selves?

Also, we could ask the same of a person compelled to take illegal pictures of art….

I don’t have an answer. Do you?

The Picasso exhibit continues in Seattle until mid-January, 2011. Check it out.

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where do you point the finger? (a parenting survey)

I’m just lookin for a little backup or validation general population opinion here on the subject of kids.

Let’s just say, because it happened for example, you have a relative staying with you and that relative likes to roughhouse with your kid.

Who also likes to roughhouse.

And that relative is twice as big as and eight times older than your kid, the roughhousing one.

Things are going along loudly and crazily with forced tickling and the like just fine, and while clutching each other, they have somehow gradually fallen to the floor, whereupon the child sees a tennis ball.

Being thoroughly assaulted and possibly evil and still giggling, she throws the ball at the relative, at close range. The relative, no longer laughing, grabs his glasses and freezes.
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Seeing her elder unmoving, the child realizes she’s in trouble something is wrong and hightails it to her room to commence crying and feeling very bad.

Where lies the fault?

Is it with the child and her last possibly evil throw? Or the adult who asked for it is, in fact, a grown-up who started the whole dang roughhouse escapade in the first place?

What say you?

And what, as an innocent bystander parental unit, do you do, if anything? (No one or thing turned out to be hurt, luckily for us all.)

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Pssst, still a few more days to vote if you haven’t!

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sweet and salty…and bacony?

I was visiting the local market the other day and happened upon this little treasure:
bacon chocolate bar
Now, I’m a chocolate fan and I’m a bacon fan (crispy, please), but Madison Avenue, I don’t think these two guys need to be joined in holy packaging.

And is there such a thing in this world as “Dark Bacon“?? Or is there a “Milk Bacon Bar,” too (excuse me while I hurl)??

What ever happened to chocolate itself being good enough? Chocolate alone is worthy. Don’t give it a complex. It doesn’t need an 8-member choir at its concert. Holy Toledo, it can solo, it can connect to the crowd alone, it can courageously show its sensitive side to the women and the girls (no, I haven’t been watching American Idol, *ahem*…).

Come on, are ya with me? Or are you on the current bacon wagon train?

And don’t ask the dog.
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She still wants to know who’s outside, staring at her.

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important family debate topic: Coke

Yesterday, the Kid, Hubs and I were running errands and picking on each other spending quality time together and began to discuss the following:

Which sip is the best one of an icy, cold glass of Coke?


Yes, we are that deep.

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The Hubs told the Kid it was the last one, the one that has been lingering with the ice the longest.

I cannot believe he’s teasing her again, I thought to myself.

Next, he’ll tell her how much fun it is to paint the fence.

Then I realized he was serious.

The last sip? Furrealz?? Who is this person I married??

First off, I said, don’t you mean the first sip, since that’s the one with the most rum in it? (ba-da-ching!)

But, even if it is rum-free, still, it is the first sip that’s the best. Right?

All bubbly and fresh, not flat and watery and tasteless.

You’re with me on this, right?

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