Whistlin' Dixie

I can't wait to hear this.

I also love how it's the British news outlet that points out that the Bush clan is from Connecticut. The American ones love to perpetuate that Texas myth those Yalies try to put on.

Australian oddities not of the bagel variety

On the train home just now, I saw a woman talking on a koala. Her cell phone was completely covered by this animal. All I could see was a furry body she was holding up to her ear. She appeared to be talking into its pouch.

Has it really come to this?

I kinda wish I had heard her ring tone, though. Maybe some Men at Work or "Tie Me Kangaroo Down, Sport". I might be more forgiving of her marsupial mobile if she carried the theme all the way.

Deep Blue State

Mawarriage is what bwings us togever todaay

I had jury duty about a month ago. I didn't get picked or even close. My employer paid me to sit in the jury pool room and read for five hours. This room had windows that faced across the Charles River into Boston and was high enough so that I could see my office building. It was a little like sticking it to the man except that the man had put me there in the first place.

The highlight of my day was the video. Why is it that videos shown to hundreds of people for safety or other important information are always so cheesy? This one must have been made around 1989--fluffy hair, shoulder pads and terrible colors. Maybe they're shooting for an update in '09.

Anyway, the kicker was the message from Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court Chief Justice Margaret Marshall. She's the one ultimately responsible for the legalization of gay marriage in the Bay State.

And she has a lisp! She cannot say her Rs. Why on earth would someone then force her to say juwy (jury) about 50 times in under 5 minutes?

She also has a weird accent that I couldn't place. It turns out she's from South Africa.

I'm not a xenophobe, but I do find it interesting that someone with so much power (for good or evil, depending on your view) didn't even come to this country until graduate school.

So kids, Ms. Marshall is proof that your speech problems won't necessarily be impediments to sucess. Just try not to pick a career that will force you to frequently use words you can't say correctly!

A Tree Grows in Topsfield

Two weekends ago we went maple sugaring. This involved a trip to a Mass Audobon Wildlife Reserve in Topsfield, MA, home of the longest-running agricultural fair in the country! It doesn't last for months; it has just been held since 1818. But I digress ...

In a group of about 20 adults and kids we rambled through the woods to learn how to identify a sugar maple, taste sap (like a drop of Diet Coke left in melting ice), see how to tap a tree and watch the sap boiling into syrup.

At one point the naturalist needed a kid volunteer to a demonstration. A boy about 9 got in front of the group. The naturalist asked if he had ever pretended to be a tree, assuming he would hold his arms up like any kid in a school nature play. Not this kid. He did a yoga tree.

Oh Massachusetts

Vernal Vignettes

Ethnic requirements

I'm taking a knitting class at the high school in the town where we used to live. Each week I take in the wallpaper of signs and posters as I make my way to the classroom where we meet. The past two weeks have been puzzling.

Week 1: Signs on 8.5 x 11 for a Mandatory Asian-American Club meeting. I assume this meant if you were a member, you had to go. It also seems to me that the sign was saying that if you are Asian American, you were required to attend. Can you be white and a member? Regardless, are high schoolers so desparate for extra curriculars that they are creating clubs based on ethnicity?

Week 2: A traditional tempura-painted (referenced as a stereotype of high schools, not Asian artistic methods) banner sign advertising Asian-American Night $5 March X, 2006 8 p.m. So who is going to this thing?

The plot thickens

In other news from our old town, we have been invited to purchase plots in the new cemetery. This comes to us via a pre-need sale. Of course it's pre-need!

The lovely brochure also touts: Belmont's first new burial space since 1988!

Whee! Apparently residents haven't been able to be buried in their hometown in twenty years. Still, I don't think burial and an exclamation point ever belong together.

The last few weeks

Here are some tidbits from the last month or so. If I managed to keep a list of things I wanted to blog about, why didn't I just write? The world may never know.

1. What do you find under the marquee for Menopause: The Musical!? A bunch of post-menopausal women! Who else? Brian and I happened upon this site one Sunday afternoon. There was neither a man nor a woman under 50 to be found.

2. I finally got a Love Bagel! Notice I did not say ate. I didn't eat it for two reasons.
a) It was a masterpiece.
b) It had raisins, which I disdain.

3. Two weeks ago I left work a little early to make it to the post office before catching the train. I figured there wouldn't be much of a line at 4 p.m. on a Wednesday. I was mistaken.

The line was about 8 people deep, which doesn't seem insurmountable when there are two clerks. The Boston postal workers have nothing on Columbia's, but they do a decent job keeping things moving.

However, I underestimated the needs of one customer. He had literally 20 packages to mail. It was taking forever! Meanwhile, there was a little girl in a stroller periodically screaming Mommy and then Help! Help! when Mommy didn't answer. Mommy had decided to park the stroller and child by the envelopes instead of keeping them with her in line. Trying to teach a three-year-old independence or trying to get a moment's peace? I won't judge because eventually this little girl was voicing my inner thoughts, minus the Mommy part.

The man who got in line behind me was a chatter. I don't do small talk. I will answer pertinent questions and smile politely, but I do not keep up conversations with strangers. This guy was good, though. I had sucessfully dodged a conversation with smiles and nods until he hooked me with -- spelling. He pointedly asked me whether it was all right, allright or alright? Ever the editor, I responded: depends on the context.

This actually shut him up! He didn't try to engage me again until I was finally at the counter, and he had made it to the second clerk. He asked her about the spelling. The clerk suggested one work with one L. The man demanded a dictionary and then was outraged that one wasn't available!

Then he said: "Well, that young lady (meaning me) said it was one word with one L (I didn't), and she has never been wrong in her life."

I turned, looked him squarely in the eye and said: "That's true." And then I scurried out of there and didn't look back.

More vignettes tomorrow!