A Few of My Favorite Things. . .

I chose not to answer any of the personal questions on the profile portion of the Blog site. However, if I were to answer the "Favorite Movie" question, I would say: Name any movie by Wes Anderson, and that is my favorite. (I heart Wes Anderson).

I would also like to say that "The Daily Show" and the Sunday morning radio program on NPR, "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me" are a few of my favorite things (as well as the movie "The Sound of Music," but that is besides the point. Although, there really is no point).

I really like to make waffles on Sunday morning -- blueberry waffles, oat-bran waffles with bananas and pecans, oat-bran inflicted waffles with strawberries on top -- drink coffee, and listen to "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me." Last Sunday I played Boggle while doing this. At first with Cole, and then solo, as an exerise to pump up in anticipation for next weekend's game ( see photo above depicting weekly Boggle Bonanza) . . . can you hear me Namany?

He is Ironman

Cole kickin' it after school. . .

Pass the salt please

Everyone in my house holds a different religious/spiritual belief than any other person in the house. I think this provides a great opportunity to teach tolerance and understanding. No one is allowed to call anyone else soul-less or declare that that person will die in an impending apocalypse. No one is allowed to call the other stupid or declare that they are unable to think for themselves.

One night at the dinner table we were discussing our differences and the fact that individual beliefs satisfy individual needs. This ideal then led to sharing about what we believe will happen to us when we die. That discussion led, in turn, to what we would want done with our bodies when we die. (This may sound like morbid dinner-time talk, but it was actually quite a lively conversation).

I said I was kind of interested by what Walt Whitman had to say about our decaying bodies becoming the source for other living things to grow and thrive. I wondered if our only choices were cremation or burial in a coffin. I don't think anyone ever requests: I'd like to be tossed in a shallow grave in the middle of a field (it just seems like the best way to fertilize other living things). -Or- what about the element of surprise: I'd like to be dumped on a remote trail up in the mountains and be discovered years later by surprised hikers!

Dinner-time talk indeed . . . but something to think about.

Earth vs. Ersatz (In My Side Yard)

Everytime I look at this mighty flower that has pushed its way through the black-top, I think: Victory! Nature prevails!
But, then, my mind always degrades to the next thought: I paid $x,xxx for that lousy black-top.
Why must the lowlier thought seep up on the loftier first? Why?