Seeing the Rainforest Cafe through new eyes

So we took the boys to the Rainforest Cafe. It wasn't the first time for any of us (so I knew not to expect much of the food). Still, it felt special. That's 'cause the boys are in the Age of Delight, where a "talking tree" and moving elephants and, as you can see, a fish tank next to the table, make for a peak experience. Did I mention the food sucked? The clam chowder was worse than canned, and the calamari was chilly. But the giant butterflies flapped their wings and a star shot across the night sky above and I forgot all that.

Thinking of Mom on Christmas Eve

I'm remembering my mother in an unusual way today. I'm watching "Journey to the Center of the Earth," starring her little crush, Pat Boone. I remember us watching that movie together many years ago -- a rare intersection of my interests (sci-fi, such as "Journey" is) and hers (the aforementioned vanilla crooner). Funny ... I forgot that they did their best to make it into a musical. He's singing "my love is like a red, red rose" as I type this. I also forgot how much of the movie he spent with his shirt off. No wonder she enjoyed it so much.

Anyway, it's odd to think that mom's been gone for six ... nearly seven years. Hard to get my mind around the fact that she's never met and will never meet my boys on Earth, though Cheryl and I like to imagine that she's up in heaven shouting "They're ad-VANCED!!!" I miss mom, though in some ways her leaving was just what our relationship needed.

I wish I had a better memory sometimes. I'd remember more of the bad stuff, sure, but I'd have clearer pictures of Christmases past, at my grandparents' house, everyone together in clouds of smoke. It got tough toward the end, but when I was a kid, I have faded recall of nights spent in log cabins and houseboats. Such cool homes. They didn't have the warmth of love in the way I've come to experience it, though I don't recall feeling less than loved. But they had a certain richness. Our family wasn't large in numbers, but the room felt full of history, of stories, of dreams ....

I want me kids to have all of that, minus the smoke, plus the warmth. I think they're getting it. I wish Mom could be here for it, even though I know that her presence was never uncomplicated. I may forget a lot, but I can't forget that.

The car that barely missed us

We were driving home from a special afternoon in Seattle when suddenly an oncoming car - this car - smashed through one barrier and flew over another . . . right into my path. But not just mine: I had Cheryl and the boys with me.

Somehow, miraculously, I swerved and hit nothing (and nothing hit me, except a shower of coolant from the flying vehicle). But I will never forget the vision of the underside of that car filling my windshield. And the sound of the barrier turning to sticks and twisted metal.

I'd like to say it is my driving skill that saved us, but I will instead go with luck. Or maybe those angels Mom used to bully into watching out for me.

Classic holiday Seattle

We joined the Science Center today. The boys love it, and wanted me to see the 'Colossal Fossils' on display for another few days. Good times, until . . .

Robots and the questions that keep 4-year-olds up at night

So, last night I heard Eddie crying and went to the bunkbed to see what was going on with my boys (who should have both been sleeping).

"He won't let me sleep! Chas needs to quit bothering me!" Eddie complained.

"There is a question I have to ask. It is very important," Chas explained.

I told Chas to ask me, and that I would handle it. The question: "If Eddie was a robot, would he tell me?"

It was all I could do not to laugh. And it was all I could do not to freak him out by saying: "Of course not! He'd wait until your guard is down and attack."

I assured him that his brother would indeed tell him. And soon, they were asleep.

My wife, the Sunday-school teacher

This is what family values looks like. (Yep, family values can be gay and churchy and welcoming and all that good stuff.)

We remain conflicted about our church, largely due to choices around behind-the-curtain stuff (which is why I'm not on any committees anymore). But this last Sunday was all good -- it reminded me what I love about the place: a great sermon from our new pastor, some hymn-singing and some hugs. And I got to see my girl teach her class (she's a natural), then attend a class by a church member who's a big-time Biblical archeologist.

Meeting Santa in Milton

Our Christmas tree now has a wireless remote

I love gadgets. I like Christmas trees. But that like is moving toward love now that I figured out how to control the lights with a wireless remote. Yes, we can click a button and the lights turn off. Then on. Then off. I'm sure the novelty will wear off before the buttons do. Well, pretty sure.

Christmas spirit all over the danged place ...

The boys woke up the day after Thanksgiving and immediately started looking for snow. When they realized that probably wasn't in the picture, they turned their attention to Christmas decorations. 'Cause, you know, Christmas "year" (what the guys call Christmas season) begins before all the Thanksgiving pie is even digested.

So we're at Thanksgiving plus three days, and the tree is up and trimmed, and ... since Chas gave me his cute and expectant face, I've got most of the exterior lights up as well. And the boys have made several ornaments, 'cause I'm married to the Queen of Crafts.

Oh, and two thumbs up for "Fred Claus." It's sweet and funny and almost as good as "Elf." And that's saying something, 'cause I love "Elf." Vince Vaughn is good in "Elf," if a little precious when doing his "Rubberneckin'" dance. Actually, he dances a lot in the movie. What's best though, are the family dynamics and the well-observed take on family dynamics.

I used to have a rule against acknowledging Christmas before December 11 (aka, before my birthday). But I've since gotten over that. I now have a new hard line: No Christmas before Thanksgiving. And this time I really mean it.

Hanging out on the side of the side of I-5 is about as fun as it looks

My bus had a problem this a.m. ...

OK, so our bus made a loud popping sound and started pouring smoke. Did we really need to get out on the side of the interstate in the freezing cold? Then get in the 194 (aka a slow bus) for the ride in?

The funny thing is that I thought the bus sounded a little off before I even got on.

CPR class dummies have changed

Weighing in on the Writer's Strike ...

First, there's the dark side of Ellen, which you see laid out in its ugly glory here, complete with comments that provide insight not just into the passions on both sides of the strike issue, but (of course) anti-gay sentiment: http://dantobindantobin.com/blog/?p=3846

And then, for a giggle ('cause outrage only gets you so far):

Monday Night Football From a Bus-Eye Perspective

Yeah, But Do We Eat ANIMAL Chickens????

The boys came to a difficult and disturbing reaction tonight: That the meat they eat is ... gasp! ... animals. And when you think about it, it is really a tough thing to get your mind around. Their shocked little faces (particularly that of Mr. Sensitive Eddie) make vegetarianism almost appealing.

Our guys' insight was precipitated by last week's viewing of Chicken Run, wherein adorable chickens must liberate themselves or else become pies. I wonder what revelations tonight's viewing of Shark Tale will inspire?

The Kids Aren't Asleep Yet ... And Here's Why I Feel Extra Guilty About It

So, Eddie's in the hallway conducting a commentary-filled race with his little NASCAR cars ("Jeff Gordon's in the pits." "Denny Hamlin is passing Jeff Gordon!") and Chas is playing with his Cars cars (regular McQueen, and the new addition to our family, "cactus" McQueen). But they should be sleeping.

I say this not only because I wouldn't mind a teeny bit of alone time, but also because of this news story I saw on MSNBC:

Lack of shut-eye leads to fatter kids, study says

updated 5:53 a.m. PT, Mon., Nov. 5, 2007

Here’s another reason to get the kids to bed early: More sleep may lower their risk of becoming obese.

Researchers have found that every additional hour per night a third-grader spends sleeping reduces the child’s chances of being obese in sixth grade by 40 percent.

The less sleep they got, the more likely the children were to be obese in sixth grade, no matter what the child’s weight was in third grade, said Dr. Julie Lumeng of the University of Michigan, who led the research.

Too Much Information: Bright Green Poop Edition

Something strange happened to me today (more than once). I wasn't going to blog about it, but I've been emboldened because poop is a popular topic, and bright green poop is a VERY popular topic. Or so indicates Mr. Google.

Turns out, my favorite non-carbonated beverage (grape Kool-Aid) includes FDA Blue #5. Says poopreport.com: "Turns out that when metabolized in sufficient quantity, the blue dye combines with bile, and forms a brilliant green. The red, absorbing at a 595nm spectrum, is harmlessly eliminated."

And if you know me at all, you know sufficient quantity isn't a problem. I drink my grape Kool-Aid 54 oz. at a time, in a mug the size of many pitchers. That's how I roll. The weird thing is that I never had the bright greenies before today! Maybe it was the cold medicine ....

I'm Aragorn???? Really????

So I thought it would be fun to take this survey I found online, about which fantasy/sci-fi character you are....... But it decided that I'm frickin' Aragorn from Lord of the Rings! Yeah, I guess he's heroic and all, but I'm not sure I get it.

Anyway, you click below take it for yourself and see if you're James T. Kirk or Yoda or Voldemort. All of which are cooler than Aragorn.

Well, I figured out what I was pissed off about ...

So the other night, a very nice fellow from my church called. He had called a week and a half earlier to offer me an important volunteer gig, and after much soul-searching, I accepted.

And then I got all grumpy.

Imagine my relief when he said he offered me the wrong job. Then imagine five times what you imagined previously, 'cause that's what I felt. My relief shifted slightly when I started to think about what could lead to this strange situation ... why WOULDN'T someone want me in the originally offered role?

Ultimately, it's not worth worrying over. Suffice it to say, I'm in a really good mood (despite my cold). And I'm not going to accept the other job. I'm working through what my involvement witht the church will be, but one thing is clear: No politics for me. It messes up my tenuous relationship with God.

On Anger, Antidepressants, Chocolate Milk and Unblunted Words

OK, so for the past few days I have been somewhat grumpy. I acknowledge this. But apparently I've been more grumpy than usual, 'cause Cheryl jokingly suggested that I go back on antidepressants. You know, in that sort of "ha, ha ... if this really pisses you off we'll say it's just a joke" kind of way. So I've been thinking about it.

I am not necessarily against the idea. Anti-d's made me gain weight, which wasn't awesome, but I'm certainly capable of doing that with or without them. And they did have a somewhat quieting effect when my thoughts become a raging swirl. But I'd like to think, and maybe this is wrong, that my need for antidepressants grew out of my work life. Meaning, I had a job that really bummed me out (quite the opposite of now).


And if the issue isn't a transient situation involving work, then the issue is me. And that's something I need to think about.


Which brings me to the chocolate milk. The fam and I were watching TV the other day and someone knocked some chocolate milk into my chair. It was a goodly amount of chocolate milk, and it was cold. So Mama Chocolate Milk Butt jumped up, yelling a little, in shock. More like yelping, not so much with the words at first. And I think it hit Cheryl as a classic (not in a good way) overreaction to relatively minor circumstances. Which is easy to say when your ass is dry.


So what's going on? Is my brain carburetor running to rich on rage? Is there something bugging me that I haven't fully accessed yet? I've got things going on that can lead to upset: I'm turning 40 (which, even if you do it at Disneyland, still kinda sucks). Work is TV-centric (good) and still a lot of fun, but getting more stressful as the business grows. I haven't been exercising, though I did take a walk yesterday. And it's hard to be a superhero when you're not exercising.

the husbands, hard at it

My bro-in-law and I did some work over the weekend, down at the boys' preschool. This involves me handing him tools and trying to learn what I can.

But ice beats fire any day

Partying at the little gym . . .

Not as straight as I thought . . .

No, I am not talking about myself. I am talking about my hair. I've always thought of it as straight. Then I got it cut by a sweet little gay boy who straightened it after. I didn't think it would make that much difference, but it did.

What's Missing Is the "Lesbians Who Look Like Old Men" Site

I'm probably a little too amused at the "Men Who Look Like Old Lesbians" site. Even though it scares me to think that in the not-to-distant future these will be men who look like me.

Anyway, take a look. It's basically just a random assortment of pictures. And you will laugh. Oh how you will laugh!

And then, maybe, you'll wonder what if it's really such a lesbian-power world, as Barney's gay-about-town Simon Doonen and celeb/fashion blog Jezebel seem to think it indicates. I'm not sure I agree, though to see the propagation of the term "Muffia" is both impressive and disturbing.

Another name for 'news'

So I am watching TV the other night (actually, it's a promo between shows) and my boy Eddie comes in, stalling bedtime.

"Whatcha watchin'?" he asks.

Then he gets a look at the screen, which is flashing a KOMO 4 news promo that shows something on fire. And he answers his own question.

"Oh. Seattle problems."

Can't really argue with that.

How my wife does texting

Yes, she really did take a picture of a Post-It and send it to me.

A Good Place to Recycle Electronics (Seattle-area)

OK, it's a little early for Blog Earth Action Day or whatever (guess that's next week), but I wanted to share a great experience I had recycling a computer monitor and copier (desktop-sized, but still 70 frickin' pounds).

Anyway, I had to get rid of these things. And while I know it is possible to find ways to "throw them away" for free, that's just too wrong, even for a cheapskate like me. So I did a little research. (This is a good place.) But I can save you the time, and just tell you that the place to go is:

Total Reclaim (2200 6th Ave., Seattle, 206-343-7443)

They took the monitor for $10 and the copier for .30/pound. A lot of places won't take copiers, so it was handy to have one-stop shopping. Plus, it was the best pricing I've come across. Other places were talking, like, $50 to unload the copier. I did it for $24.50.

Eddie Sent Me an Email ... (Sort Of)

PBS Kids isn't just entertainment for my Pre-K guys, it's a Web-communication enabler. And I'm fine with that.

At the Fife Harvest Fest

But Oprah's not as bad as Dr. Phil

Much better to see a very rich person go on in a somewhat out of touch way about the need for balance in life (can't argue with the premise) than to see an educated guy (Ph.D. in clinical psych) diagnosing people he hasn't met -- aka Britney Spears (suicide risk, needs to be committed). It's bad enough that he diagnoses people that he HAS met, under the bright lights and glare of TV cameras.

Does he not see that he's not helping, despite his agressive arm-waving? In fact, he's part of the problem. Too much yelling for ratings, not enough doing. At least Oprah built a school for girls in Africa. Yeah, it was done in a way that accomodated her ego, but it's undeniably changing lives for the better. How 'bout you, Phil?

See why I am sick of Oprah?

Oprah's Great Escape
(from Radar magazine)

It's hard out there for an empathetic billionaire—like TV's top earner Oprah, who raked in a cool $260 million last year alone.
On that note, she has some inspiring words of wisdom for readers of her eponymous mag's October issue: Take a month off! You deserve it. "I decided to give myself July," Oprah writes. "Yes, the whole month—dedicated to myself, for myself. To regroup. Rejuvenate. Restore my soul." (Yeah, that show on the O.J. book was pretty soul-crushing.)
If the missive, which runs on the back page of the autumnal Oprah, comes off as a little tone deaf, well too bad for all of you who didn't top Forbes's latest rich list. In it Oprah describes how the past season of her show left her feeling a little drained: "I was so exhausted, I was numb." And then she breaks into an envy-inducing ramble about the monthlong break she took from everything because, as she reminds us, "making the decision to look after yourself is the ultimate in healthcare."
Of course, we don't all have a private chef to ensure that we "munched on golden flaxseed ... ate only fresh foods: grilled fish ... mangoes from my neighbors' tree" during our monthlong summer retreats. Nor do we all have a Hawaiian estate to escape to and watch "28 consecutive sunsets." Before she signs off, Oprah reminds us: "As I write this, I'm wrapped in a blanket on the back of a friend's boat off Vancouver Island sipping a glass of wine ... watching the whales swim by." And indeed, the photo accompanying her letter shows Oprah swathed in a blanket while sitting on what can only be described as a multimillion-dollar floating palace.
For some reason, she didn't mention that she and Maya Angelou then shared a Methuselah of vintage Veuve before conference calling Nelson Mandela from the sat phone. Which is all very inspiring, unless of course, you're a single mom from Oklahoma for whom paying the phone bill on time is the "ultimate in healthcare."

A rather elaborate return to Thomas track-building

Fall TV: As exciting, enjoyable and disappointing as ever

OK, so it's fall TV season, which means time must be allocated, TiVos must be programmed and shows must be watched.

Favorite new show: Bionic Woman.
It's based on a favorite from my youth, and is a metaphor for a woman coming into the power of adulthood and experience. What's not to like? Well, let's just say that sky-high expectations are a lot for even bionics to carry. The show is doing well, very well, and I'm going to give it some time. Like the Bionic Woman herself, it needs time to realize its power.

Returning strong: Desperate Housewives
Will Dana Delany out-Bree Bree? She is so good at the brittle socialite, prone to tears, though I still love her best as the warm, sweet, conflicted nurse from China Beach. Kudos to Desperate Housewives for finding ways to re-invigorate Wisteria Lane.

Watching in real time for the first time: Grey's Anatomy and Heroes
I didn't dig Heroes at first, but have fallen in love with it since watching its debut season in one downloaded swoop. The first episode of this new season is one of the last things I got to this week -- not because I wasn't looking forward to it, but just because other things seemed more urgent. There's no arguing that it's a great show, and it has managed to bounce back with strength after a finale that didn't deliver the "bang" (watch it, you'll get the joke) people hoped for.

I like Grey's. So much sex. And death. And sex. And surgeries. And cheating. And mournful looks. I don't know why I like it so much, but I do. It must be the heightened reality, the shots of Seattle that make it look like the most beautiful, soulful city on earth. And, I gotta admit, I know what it's like to fall in love with someone you work with. Especially when you're not supposed to.

Biggest disappointment: Private Practice.
Kate Walsh deserves a fabulous show. Too bad this isn't it. She's like a lobotomized version of the fabulous broad she played in Grey's, and the show is cutesy when it shouldn't be and tone-deaf when it tries for gravitas.

A day without corporate email ....

Well, it's not as bad as a day without sunshine, but it's still surprisingly unsettling. I've had my T-Mobile Dash for barely two months and I'm ridiculously addicted to it. Our email server went down at work for a little while -- like, not even two full days -- and I found myself constantly checking, rebooting, checking, re-connecting, to no avail.

The work email is actually more of a draw than the Internet, which is a scaled-down experience (not bad for a computer that fits in my hand, but not as full as I'd like).

Are those clean?

OK, so I pulled the boys' winter coats out of the dryer this a.m. so they could wear them in the rain.

So knowing this, do you figure that I, ya know, washed them? Well, my wife had to doublecheck. "I hope you cleaned those," she said. Really, I was incredulous. Did she think I would plant the jackets in the dryer to fool her? "I didn't take them down to the river and beat them with a rock, if that's what you mean."

In her defense, I was raised in an environment where a brown (i.e. unbleached) paper towel put in the wrong place turned the nuclear family of my childhood more nuclear than family. So I learned how, especially as my mom got older and lost visual acuity, to fake it sometimes.

Not that Cheryl is like my mother. But I do know that I will never be as hygenic as my dear wife might want.

OK, so one time I put away dishes that had only been rinsed. But that was a misunderstanding on my part ... a completely accidental failure to understand the controls of our new dishwasher. And I got (most) of the not-so-clean stuff back into the dishwasher for a real washing.

Anyway, I DID wash the damn jackets!

Hitched again!

We're just gonna keep marrying and registering until it's fully real. . .

Funderwear!

Marcia, Marcia, Marcia (the lesbian edition)

Well, it was fun while it lasted, but now the publisher of Maureen "Marcia" McCormick's new book is denying rumors that it will include details of a tryst between McCormick and Eve "Jan" Plumb.

But they can't make the images leave my mind. And I'm still not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

Goin' bowling

Angelina has only slept with four guys ....

... But she didn't say how many women she has slept with. Hmmmm.

From MSNBC:

LOS ANGELES - For all the talk and insinuations of her promiscuity, Angelina Jolie says she’s only slept with four men.
In an interview with Britain’s Cosmopolitan magazine, the sexy star said she has only “slept with four men in my life — and I married two of them!”
Of course, Angelina has also been linked to various women over the years, including her former “Foxfire” co-star Jenny Shimizu.

She certainly seems like someone who's well in touch with her sexuality.

That early drive to the train station has some excellent mountain views ....

I'm ready to move the wife and kids to San Diego!

OK, except for the fact that it's too expensive and we love it where we are and too much sunshine makes me nervous.

Here's why: http://cbs5.com/video/?id=26888@kpix.dayport.com

San Diego mayor Jerry Sanders offers a heartfelt and brave example of what happens when life collides with the things we think we believe. (He just signed a resolution supporting an effort to overturn California's prohibition on same-sex marriages.)

I used to think civil unions were good enough. Now I only believe that's true if the government decides to get out of the marriage business for straight people. Civil unions for all! And marriages for people, gay and straight, who want to seek God's blessing. I'm so thankful that, despite what some believe, that blessing does exist for my wife and I (even if for now we're only married in Canada).

A freaky moth on my finger

So we found this thing at the boys' preschool, perched like some sort of bird. And it sat on the end of my finger and just kind of hummed at me for the longest time. I was both intrigued and a little nervous. And glad it wasn't any larger.

With bugs, I embrace a no-kill, touch-with-care philosophy. And I try not to ever think about anything but how amazing God's creation can be 'cause otherwise I'll get grossed out or scared.

A freaky moth

Hillary on Ellen, Talking About Rights for People Like Me

OK, so when will the actresses start coming out in earnest?

In the news: Power Lesbians, Out in Hollywood. I wish it was a post about Jodie Foster, though it's not fair for non-public me to push her to say, publicly acknowledge the woman she's with as her kids' other parent (I can't even say for sure that the woman in the red pants is Jodie's partner, though if it quacks like a duck and holds the kids' hands ....).

Anyway, here's what Defamer had to say about the Power Lesbians (I left out the quote about sex toy ettiquette after a change in girlfriends 'cause that's just yucky):

W Mag To Throw Coming Out Party For Rubyfruit Mafia
Today's Page Six previews W's upcoming story on the rapidly growing membership of the all-female Velvet Mob splinter group the magazine has dubbed the Rubyfruit Mafia, a faction whose influence grows each time one of the industry's power-lesbians makes the brave choice to step out of the closet:

THE lesbians of Hollywood seem to be multiplying as they come out of the closet. "Call them the Rubyfruit Mafia," W magazine says in its latest issue. Movie producer Nina Jacobson said she didn't know of one other openly lesbian executive in Los Angeles in the early '90s when she told a colleague at Universal Studios, "I actually am not straight."

It would be wrong just to sit on the jiggly piece . . .

The tilt-a-whirl is serious business . . .

Our second night in a row at the fair . . . Dollar ride Monday.

Diet Mountain Dew, Vault, and My New Affection For Not-Quite energy drinks

So, my love of Diet Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper has a rival: Diet Mountain Dew and Vault, the citrus-flavored caffiene-rich sodas from Pepsi and Coke.

How much caffiene does it have 70.5 mg, significantly more than Dew, at 55 mg. I'm not sure which one I like better. And I'm not sure if the caffeine even makes that much difference. Really, I'm someone who can sleep no matter what.

Hmmm. Just discovered a small problem involving Vault Zero (aka Diet Vault) and benzene. It's supposedly cleared up now, but ... BENZENE?

A perfect day at the Puyallup Fair ... But where was everybody?

Cheryl and I took the boys to the fair today, making first use of the season passes we got at Costco for essentially nothing (we got 'em for the price of admission to Wild Waves, where we were going anyway).

Anyway, it was bright, sunny and wonderful. We even found street parking. Which was the first clue that it would be kind of an odd day: The weather couldn't have been better, but the fair was hardly filled. I wonder if it was the competition from the Seahawks game .....

Well, we'll be back, and we'll see if it was an oddity or a new reality for one of the country's biggest fairs. Is it possible that people just aren't into fairs anymore? It's funny 'cause for many years I went almost every day as part of my job as a music reviewer for The News Tribune. I got a little tired of it, I'll admit. But now, even with a season pass, it's more fun. We can go for a few hours at a shot and leave before we get sick of it.

Paintin' toenails with my boy

Turning 40: Not so bad, if you're Brad Pitt

Brad Pitt's got another movie coming out ("The Long-Titled Movie About The Assassination of Jesse James By Some Other Dude" or something like that), so the door to the Pitt-Jolie household is open a crack. He said some interesting stuff to Details:

On leaving his spouse for someone else, in public (which I can relate to other than the in-public part): "I don't know how better to have handled it. My view was, this is no one's business in the end — at least in matters of the heart. So you need to protect all involved as much as possible. I don't know if that cooled things off or exacerbated them, but it was a thing I felt justly about at the time. Again, the thing guiding me then was you don't know how many days you have and you need life to be everything you want it to be. … Jen and I still maintain a deep friendship and have a lot of life together that isn't erased in any way."

And on turning 40: "Your face kind of goes. Your body's not quite working the same. But you earned it. You earned that, things falling apart."

Brad Pitt: Expert on going to seed.

NASCAR: I'm Not the Only Lesbian Into It

OK, so it warmed my heart in an odd way to hear that Melissa Etheridge sang the national anthem at the NASCAR race over the weekend in Fontana, Calif. One doesn't necessarily thnk of NASCAR as a super gay-friendly thing. But I can dream, can't I?

Said California Speedway President Gillian Zucker:

"As an outspoken advocate for the environment, human rights, and cancer survivors, Melissa Etheridge is more than just a wonderfully talented musician. We can't wait to introduce this Grammy and Academy Award winner to NASCAR at California Speedway."

How long until having a lesbian sing the national anthem at NASCAR no longer seems like a subversive act?

"One of the guys" at work

I'm in an interesting position at the office: I work with mostly guys, and many of them are technically young enough to be my sons (if I'd have been getting busy instead of, say, watching Cagney & Lacey or going to marching band practice). Anyway, I am vain enough to want these fellas to think of me as anything but a mother figure. And after today, I'm pretty sure they don't see me that way, which is cool. How do I know this? Well, they talked to me about sex and included non-motherly detail. It's so funny: I'm clearly not someone they want to sleep with, so all that potential tension is non-existent. But they're still intrigued, I think because I am a girl, who, like them, appreciates hot girls. (Though I am not into big-boobed vacant-eyed blondes with the same level of enthusiasm).

Anyway, we had a team-building exercise that involved going to a Mariners game. It was fun -- the ballpark is great, and we were just a few feet from the bullpen. But now that my work no longer involves paying attention to sports, I'm not as entertained by baseball as I used to be. So, I chatted with the fellas in the bright sun, beer in hand (theirs) and diet soda in hand (mine). It's so funny ... talking to them I realize how much time and energy I wasted trying to be straight in my 20s. I could have spent it doing what they're doing: Trying to hook up with girls! But I am so glad I don't have to worry about all the complicates they're sweating, from STDs to different ideas about commitment.

If I knew any twentysomethings, I'd set these guys up. Yeah, they want to get it wet as much as possible -- they ARE guys. But it seems like they're trying to be as decent about it as possible, and I respect that. And hey: They're smart, good-looking and fun to talk to. Oh, and it wasn't all sex: We talked about religion, too. And suburban life (mine). And urban life (theirs). And sports (they want to take me and my family to a hockey game and teach us to appreciate that). We'll see.

Take me out . . . For a work 'teambuilder'

Mama's jacket fits two boys at once!

It was chilly at the boys' most recent T-ball game. And we forgot their jackets. But I had mine!

A Sad Turn for the Butterscotch Stallion

Wow, did not expect this .... Though I wasn't as shocked as Kate Hudson:

Reports of Owen suicide try rock Hudson
By Gayle Fee and Laura Raposa
Tuesday, August 28, 2007

A distraught-looking Kate Hudson was whisked off the set of “Bachelor No. 2” in Chinatown yesterday after word broke that her ex-boyfriend, “Wedding Crashers” star Owen Wilson, may have attempted suicide on the Left Coast.

“She looked upset,” said Someone Who Was There. “She was on the phone, pacing back and forth. Then her handlers came out, and covered her with an umbrella, and she was ushered into a white SUV and she took off.”

Hudson, who split with her “You, Me and Dupree” co-star back in May, had been filming a scene with co-star Dane Cook inside Centerfolds, the downtown strip club. She has been in Boston for three weeks shooting the romantic comedy accompanied by her new beau, “Employee of the Month” goofball Dax Shepard.

Wilson, 38, who is blamed for busting up Hudson’s marriage to Black Crowes frontman Chris Robinson, issued a statement pleading for privacy after he was hospitalized for what ABC news termed a “possible suicide attempt.”

“I respectfully ask that the media allow me to receive care and heal in private during this difficult time,” Wilson said in a statement released to Reuters.

Wilson was in good condition at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center yesterday, according to a hospital spokeswoman. She didn’t give the reason for his admission but several reports say that the actor had slashed his wrists and an empty bottle of pills was found next to him.

Santa Monica police said officers responded to a “medical assistance call” at Wilson’s home shortly after noon Sunday. Wilson was transported to Saint John’s Health Center in Santa Monica - the same hospital where New England Patriots [team stats] quarterback Tom Brady [stats]’s baby was born last week.

The National Enquirer reported that paramedics were summoned by a family member who called 911 after finding the actor. Wilson was subsequently transferred to Cedars-Sinai for detox and his brother, actor Luke Wilson, was seen leaving the Beverly Hills treatment center.

According to the Enquirer, Wilson may have been distraught over the break up with Hudson and her subsequent romance with Shepard. The actress has been photographed canoodling with the “Punk’d” field agent in Boston and just this past weekend the couple was snapped in a full-on makeout session in a supermarket in Malibu.

The Tinseltown twosome were also spied walking her son, Ryder, 3, around the Back Bay and taking the tyke out for pizza at the Upper Crust on Beacon Hill. Shepard even hung out with Kate’s ex, Chris Robinson, when he came to town to play at the Irish Festival in Canton.

“Perhaps Wilson saw how close they were getting and it sent him over the edge,” speculated one Hollywood insider.

File Under: Tears of a Clown.

Swim lessons are working

Milton Centennial fireworks

Our town turned 100, and it was a lot of fun! I took some pictures and so did Chas. Hard to tell who took what.

Why it is dangerous for me to listen to music on the train ...

or the office, for that matter:

So, this morning on the way into work, I'm listening to some of my favorite songs on the train. The upside of this is that they put me into a great mood. The downside of this is that I tend to bop in my seat like a goober and, worse, sing along. And as much as I love the sound of my own voice, I recognize that not everyone is as enamored of it as I am. So I'm trying to control myself somewhat.

Right now the song is Seal, "Waiting for You." I'd characterize it as expansive pop: Big vocal to invite you in. Strong beat. Some strings, including acoustic guitar. Now it's Harry Connick's turn, with "Whisper Your Name."

"Somebody was spreading rumors 'bout better days a'coming. Why was I humming as if I knew one and the same? But I just whispered your name."

OK, I AM a NASCAR fan

I've got a window open on my desktop that shows real-time lap results from the "3M Performance 400" at the Michigan International Speedway. This race was supposed to have taken place Sunday but got delayed due to rain. Which is why I'm not watching it. Yes, NASCAR has overtaken VH1 as my preferred Sunday-afternoon puttering backdrop. Yes, even though TiVo should be recording this race, I'm interested enough that I want to know NOW what's going on.

Dale Jr., who is emerging as my favorite racer, is in 5th place. But to make matters worse, the guy ahead of him in the "race for the Chase" (essentially, NASCAR "playoffs") is winning. Bad. If Jr. doesn't start winning, he's going to be sitting while other drivers go for the title.

Argh!

Milton centennial fireworks

I love our town! We had a great party this weekend celebrating Milton's 100th anniversary, and it felt so homey, so sweet. Like a (very large) family picnic. This is a shot of the fireworks display, which at first seemed like it would have to work hard to outdo our big-spending neighbors. But then it kept getting bigger and cooler, all timed to music and more colorful than most displays. Maybe everyone had their expectations on the low side, but they were well exceeded.

Tell Me Again Why I'm So Careful With My Money?

So is the whole subprime lending mess going to send the economy into the dumper? Who knows? I just know that I, as someone who is actually careful with her money (and married to someone who is even more frugal), resents the fact that the debt freaks are dragging us down.

But this (from The Onion) made me laugh ...

The most pleasant doctor's visit ever ...

So I just met with my endocrinologist, who gives me pills to make up for my defective thyroid and does his best to make sure I'm not done in by my family disposition to gain weight and insanity with age.

It went well. Surprisingly well, actually. We laughed and everything.

I think he's happy to spend time with a patient who isn't feeling the worst effects of the demon diabetes. I'm still young-ish, and other than the fact that I've gotta take thyroid pills everyday, I'm doing OK. I'm now off the anti-depressants, and doing well. Gosh, you think it has anything to do with the fact that I'm not working for the newspaper anymore? I think it might. Really, I'm practically giddy at the thought that I don't have to do that job anymore, even though my gig at Unbox is getting more complicated and growing-painsy by the day. But that's OK. I feel like I'm part of something cool. And I get to swim around in TV constantly.

My endocrinologist (his name is Dr. David McCowen, if you're interested, and he's absolutely top-notch) seems to love his work as well .... He told me, endocrinologists aren't God. But God is an endocrinologist.

Kickass woman of the day: Babe Didrickson Zaharias

If you haven't heard of the "other" Babe, that's a tragedy. She was the finest female athlete of the 20th century, and possibly ever, capable of hitting a golf ball into the stratosphere before they made clubs out of titanium and striking out Joe DiMaggio (seriously).

How did she do it? Here's what she said: "You've got to loosen your girdle and let it rip!" Go, Babe.

(Yes, she was probably a sister, as ESPN sort of ham-handedly acknowledges:

In the later years of their marriage, problems arose as Zaharias lost influence with his wife. Babe spent more time with good friend Betty Dodd, a young golfer who was a natural athlete and had no interest in looking feminine. She often stayed at the Zaharis' home in Tampa. )

I can't resist one more quote, from an article in the Organization of American Historians Magazine of History:

In the early 1930s, an unsuspecting New York newspaper reporter approached Mildred Ella "Babe" Didrikson. She was already, at the young age of nineteen, nationally known as a championship basketball player and double gold and silver medalist in track and field at the 1932 Los Angeles Olympics. The reporter said, "I'm told you also swim, shoot, ride, row, box, and play tennis, golf, basketball, football, polo and billiards. Is there anything at all you don't play?" "Yeah," the East Texan replied, "dolls"

I am not staining the fence this weekend ...

so it will be a good weekend.

Staining the fence is what I did last weekend. In a word, it sucked. I've done a fair amount of painting, but staining is worse. The reasons why are tedious: Stain is runnier than paint and tends to blow all over the place when you're using something theoretically designed to make your task easier (i.e., a paint sprayer).

I ended up with ridiculous amounts of paint in my hair, and yet the gray still showed. Not fair.

Ultimately, the fence ended up looking quite good. I didn't do part of it: The side that faces the wetlands. The obsessive side of me is a little bothered by this, but it's a testament to how annoying the process of staining is that I can let it go. And so I am.

Tomorrow, my project will be a little exterior painting. Basic stuff, just some peely spots. And then we're off to T-ball and a birthday party for the boys' cousin Gavin.

The show I wish existed back in 1985 ....

So I recently discovered South of Nowhere, a show that airs on The N (Nickelodeon's channel for teenagers). It's your typical teen-angst drama, complete with broken hearts, missed connections and angst aplenty. Except that instead of boy meets girl, it's girl meets girl! Spencer (the Midwestern LA transplant) and Ashley (the LA bad girl). Their fans call them "Spashley." I'm not sure what I think of the nickname, but I'm a fan of the show.

As with a lot of these shows, the dialog is sometimes painful. But sometimes, it's painfully touching. Like when the girls in the center of the will-they-or-won't-they-storm find themselves at that "we might kiss now" moment. "It's OK," Ashley says.

Simple as that. "It's OK." I don't know if hearing that would have changed the trajectory of my life. (And I would never want to be in an orbit that didn't intersect with Cheryl's.) But you never know.

"Eventually, love trumps fear. Every time."