Robin Grantham---Curious Distractions

Have crew, will travel

2009-06-10T10:46:00.002-04:00

I took this pic in San Cristobal, Ecuador, when we visited the Galapagos.

Okay, so I like flowers...

2009-01-19T19:27:00.001-05:00

P1030713, originally uploaded by Robin Grantham.

Our guide's favorite flower

2009-01-19T08:52:00.001-05:00

Our guide's favorite flower, originally uploaded by Robin Grantham.

Pink, with a little mustard on top.

Tippy toe

2009-01-18T21:55:00.001-05:00

Tippy toe, originally uploaded by Robin Grantham.

Caught a picture of this guy looking for some (*swimmer's toes*) dinner.

Pinks and Reds

2009-01-18T16:33:00.001-05:00

Pinks and Reds, originally uploaded by Robin Grantham.

Hey! We're back from our travels! I hope that soon we will be joined by our luggage, which decided to stay. Who can blame it?

So anyhow. I'm also testing a way to post pics via flickr. Hopefully it will work better than our airline's luggage transfer system.

Can't complain. I made it home without swimming in the Hudson, after all. Ha.

Hope you all are well!

Robin

Simplicity

2009-01-06T09:14:00.007-05:00

This morning, a twitterbug reminded me of a story I once read. As far as I know, the author is unknown:

The Fisherman

An American businessman was at the pier of a small coastal Mexican village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked. Inside the small boat were several large yellowfin tuna.

The American complimented the Mexican on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took to catch them. The Mexican replied, "Only a little while."

The American then asked why didn't he stay out longer and catch more fish? The Mexican said he had enough to support his family's immediate needs.

(photo via/flickr--millzero)

The American then asked, but what do you do with the rest of your time? The Mexican fisherman said, "I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take siesta with my wife, Maria, stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine and play guitar with my amigos, I have a full and busy life, senor."

(photo: Van Gogh's Siesta)

The American scoffed, "I am a Harvard MBA and could help you. You should spend more time fishing and with the proceeds buy a bigger boat with the proceeds from the bigger boat you could buy several boats, eventually you would have a fleet of fishing boats. Instead of selling your catch to a middleman you would sell directly to the processor, eventually opening your own cannery. You would control the product, processing and distribution. You would need to leave this small coastal fishing village and move to Mexico City, then LA and eventually NYC where you will run your expanding enterprise."

The Mexican fisherman asked, "But señor, how long will this all take?" To which the American replied, "15-20 years."

"But what then, señor?" The American laughed and said, "That's the best part! When the time is right you would announce an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich, you would make millions."

"Millions, señor? Then what?" The American said, "Then you would retire. Move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take siesta with your wife, stroll to the village in the evenings where you could sip wine and play your guitar with your amigos."

(photo via/flickr--brentbat)

*
Simplicity

(photo via/flickr--annia316)

It can be beautiful.

Enjoy your day!

Yours,

Robin

Missile toes, more from Bert's tour of Texas

2008-12-24T10:43:00.001-05:00

So, during our trip to Texas, we were tooling around on the Gator, my esteemed guide (Bert, 9) displaying an impressive innate sense for what I would find photo-worthy and I asked, "What kind of nest is that?"

Noticing that I was pointing at a dark ball in an otherwise desiccated-looking tree, he said, with only the tiniest hint of geez-you-northerners-are-idiots in his tone, "That's mistletoe."

"I didn't know missiles had toes. Is that a Texas thing?"

Okay, I didn't say that because I didn't think of it until just now. Dang it.

Instead, I said something along the lines of, "Aw, how sweet."

"Well, it sucks the water out of trees and kills them," he replied.

What? I thought. What the hell kind of sweet holiday cheer kissing thing sucks the life out of trees and kills them?

Does Santa know about this?

Yeah, I didn't say any of that, either.

As it turns out, my knowledgeable guide was correct, though I'm guessing a lot of you knew that already.

Mistletoe is both:

beneficial and deadly to plants and animals

poisonous and a supposed remedy for poisoning

a killer, and a potential cure for cancer

Huh?

And you thought kissing was complicated.

Happy Holidays!

Robin

Holidays at the Curious Distractions office

2008-12-22T18:51:00.000-05:00

Cute curls face-off. Too close to call. :~)

This is Zeus's baby boy, Henry. He got to spend the weekend with us, waiting for his new family to pick him up. Sweet dog. I hope he and his humans are happy together:

Here, Tesla (dog) makes sure all my honeys are smiling for their picture:

Assassin cockatiel awaits nefarious victim. Or, you know, any victim. Especially partridges:

And, at my sister's, we experienced a weird bird invasion:

Newest niece and I, playing with the camera. I wish we'd have played with some lipstick first, but whatever:

Really hope you're all having a wonderful holiday season.

Yours,

Robin

I'm not sure which of these is more wrong

2008-12-16T10:37:00.000-05:00

I looked out the front door and found that my gargoyle had finally achieved lift off:

And there was also this, which I'm guessing needs no explanation in regards to wrongness:

Yours,

Robin

Let it snow

2008-12-07T14:54:00.000-05:00

We had the bright idea to take a family photo outside this year. The contents of Lake Michigan begged to differ. I'm just happy my beloved camera survived the ordeal. My hair, well, not so much.

I am kind of digging the Lake Effect camouflage, though. Ha.

American Airlines now charging fees to non-passengers

2008-12-01T11:29:00.000-05:00

The Onion.

A little too funny because it isn't as far-fetched as it should be.

/via fark

Donk-o-rocerous

2008-11-28T14:40:00.002-05:00

Hey, you have a tail growing out of your nose!

Most places, you might have stray dogs wander onto your property. Here, you also get stray donkeys. These found their way to my brother-in-law's house, and he found them a home at the neighbor's.

Then, two donkeys became three. Cute baby!

Bert's Bees

2008-11-28T09:32:00.000-05:00

The bees don't seem to mind winter in Texas too much:

Bert (9) was kind enough to drive me over on their Gator to see his discovery. How cool is that?

This guy keeps eating the fish out of Bert's little pond:

If it's going to eat all their fish, it could have at least had the decency to hang around long enough for me to get a closeup.

Still, I am thankful.

I hope you all are safe & happy.

Yours,

Robin

Flying butt sniff

2008-11-24T11:34:00.000-05:00

Here, Zeus demonstrates the rare and under-appreciated, flying butt sniff.

Difficulty=9

p.s. -- Tesla's tail is weird because she was attacked by an angry rosebush. I know this because I found a chunk of her tail hanging from a thorn.

Hint to our doggy friends: Don't mess with rosebushes.

You said there'd be dogs...

2008-11-24T11:29:00.000-05:00

Yes, the doglets got to play, too. This is Tesla playing with her old friend, Zeus. I miss having him at our house!

This makes it all worth it...

2008-11-24T11:10:00.001-05:00

Just in case I don't get time later, I wanted to show you my favorite pic of the weekend.

Life is good.

Yours,

Robin

2008-11-24T10:56:00.000-05:00

Another one of Spanky, just because he is so darn cute.

I'm Blue, but I'm not blue

2008-11-24T10:49:00.000-05:00

Here's a pic of Blue sticking his tongue out at you. Yes, YOU!

:~p

Little horse, big heart

2008-11-24T10:28:00.000-05:00

This would be Spanky. He wasn't afraid to lay a spank-down on the bigger horses if they messed with him. Don't let his foot-long legs fool you. He can kick a playa if he has to.

Ha.

We had fun.

Robin

Girls, horses, dogs & Twilight

2008-11-24T10:03:00.000-05:00

I took the troupe of teens to Ohio this weekend for horses, dogs & fun.

But first, we let the horses have fun.

(I think they think they're pigs. They always want to eat & they love to roll around in anything & everything!)

More later.

Yours,

Robin

We all know what kind of doggy the White House needs...

2008-11-21T10:40:00.000-05:00

Tesla's campaign to get a goldendoodle into the White House might need some wardrobe adjustments.

Her campaign manager reports she is pleased that baby shampoo and water do not cost $150,000 dollars.

:~)

Yours,

Robin

Virtual geography & stone-throwing

2008-11-19T12:53:00.000-05:00

From the Department of Yes, I'm a Nerd I bring you the news that I got a new high score on the Free Poverty geography game. Yay. Badginess can be found to the right. And yes, poverty is, by definition, free, but website names should be short & memorable, so there you go. I don't think a woman whose blog addy is http://bellibean.blogspot.com/ should really throw stones. Ha.

Hope you're all having a wonderful day.

Yours,

Robin

First snow pics

2008-11-18T18:05:00.000-05:00

Winter isn't my favorite, but it's definitely wonderful to peek out the windows and find the trees laden with marshmallow fluff.

sunday funnies

2008-11-16T13:35:00.000-05:00

Tee hee.

/via Cute Overload

HCl melted my spray bottle: too long for Twitter

2008-11-13T12:59:00.000-05:00

There's a logic error here, of course, but isn't it kind of weird that we clean, scrub & disinfect our kitchens, then we chew our food & send it down into a vat of hydrochloric acid.

I mean, really, if hydrochloric acid isn't going to kill it, then what's dish soap going to do?

Yours,

Robin

Tesla does Sundays right...

2008-11-09T12:57:00.000-05:00

I may or may not be picking up alien signals

2008-11-06T22:00:00.000-05:00

Yours,

Robin

Coleus sunshine interception

2008-11-06T21:55:00.000-05:00

More coleus interpreted sunshine.

Yours,

Robin

Coleus in the window...

2008-11-06T21:47:00.000-05:00

Okay, SOMEONE changed my camera settings. (Yes, I'm looking at you, Dad) & so I played around, trying to put things back to my "no thought required" settings...

My plants always suffer when I need to test my camera...

Pear in a pear tree

2008-11-05T11:47:00.000-05:00

This would be more true if we trimmed the tops of these like we're supposed to, but it always strikes me how much pear trees look like, well, pears. Love them most in the spring, though.

Yours,

Robin

2008-11-03T20:09:00.000-05:00

A quick washing of my fruit basket (to rid it of fruit flies, thanks for asking) left it laden with aqua-diamonds.

I set a pomegranate vinegar trap for the fruit flies.

*Went to check if I'd caught any & one climbed out before my eyes. Had to break out the masking tape.*

Fruit flies 1X, Robin 0

Yours (unless you're a fruit fly),

Robin

Nano nature: extreme magnification pictures

2008-11-02T13:00:00.001-05:00

Fruit fly eye.

More here.

Awesome stuff!

Yours,

Robin

/via fark

Tee hee

2008-11-02T12:52:00.001-05:00

see more puppies

Special fx: Not bad, KC

2008-11-01T17:58:00.000-04:00

Tesla, stalking trick-or-treaters, camouflaged by tall grass, not at all

2008-11-01T17:30:00.000-04:00

In case you're wondering, KC went as an unlucky jogger...(hint: note tire print)

2008-11-01T17:25:00.000-04:00

We set this scary lot loose upon the neighborhood

2008-11-01T17:15:00.000-04:00

I got a little bored between goblin visits...

2008-11-01T17:09:00.001-04:00

Halloween Highlights

2008-11-01T17:04:00.001-04:00

I went shopping and the kids carved the pumpkins without me! I'm sure it's not because they were afraid of my plans to carve them with my Drummel. (edit: The pumpkins I mean, not the kids. Muahaha.)

Calling geography geeks!

2008-11-01T11:41:00.004-04:00

New high score on the FreePoverty geography game. (See badge to the right.)

Any geography geeks out there ready to beat me?

Isn't this the sweetest thing?

2008-10-29T15:02:00.000-04:00

Thanks, Sis!

Sky spit didn't wreck the lamps!

2008-10-27T19:26:00.000-04:00

They work. Yay!

I frosted the glass, too. Thus is my attempt to fool you into thinking they're frosted instead of dirty.

It was either that or blindfold everyone who comes within fifty yards of the house. I thought the spray frost would be easier.

Yours,

Robin

Think of the White House carpets--don't vote for mudslingers!

2008-10-27T10:41:00.011-04:00

Look, the New York Times wants to bomb America!

No?

But look what they said:

No?

Would I mislead you?

Barack must have said it, then. It's beside his picture, after all.

No?

You know, he just doesn't give me that terrorist vibe:

I think she's with me on this:

Ha. I've been waiting for an excuse to post that pic.

I wonder how the University of Illinois at Chicago, where William Ayers is a distinguished professor, feels about McCain shutting them down after the election?

Surely the mavericks aren't going to let them keep their doors open when they're employing terrorists? Letting terrorists teach our children! Sorry, University of Illinois! It's been a good run.

*sigh*

Vote slime, elect slime.

Yours,

Robin

Considering traffic cone clothing line...

2008-10-25T17:20:00.010-04:00

(note: slightly photoshopped due to the glaring lackluster properties of the original pic)

(note: ditto. see above note)

If you're following me on Twitter (I'll follow you back! Unless you sell baby-graters! Or something equally as distasteful...) you know that I'm visiting my dad and I fully expected to spend the weekend fixing his basement, due to rain and his basement's propensity to collect foul-smelling liquid when it shouldn't.

So, the good news and the bad news is -- no swim party due to rain flooding my dad's basement. And yes, we still plan to help him fix it, though Hubby says he's leaning toward hiring it out. Yay.

This happy surprise left Dad and I time to walk through the field behind his house.

Me: "Oh, what's this pretty stuff?"

Dad: "L planted it to attract deer."

Me: *Snappity, snappity with my handy camera.*

Then it hit me. "Where is L?"

Dad: "Hunting."

Me: *blink blink* "Here? Now?"

*looks down at bat garanimal clothing*

Me: "Why can't I ever dress like a traffic cone! We're going to get shot!"

Dad: "Relax, it's fine. He's hunting with a bow."

Me: *wiping sarcasm from chin* "Oh, well that's okay then."

Sometimes you just have to let go of the imagining of the worst.

Yours,

Robin

Operation Lamp Landfill Avoidance

2008-10-25T15:08:00.004-04:00

The finish had worn and faded on these lamps and we were ready to toss them. I decided I would try to save them with some Satin Nickel spray paint.

I'm actually finished with them now. I'll post an After pic soon!

In other news, I now want to spray paint everything.

Visitors be warned! (*hmm, wouldn't he look better purple?*)

The twist might be that I sprayed paint into the wrong places and none of them will work properly once reinstalled. Not to mention the fact that the sky promptly spit rain into the open places from whence we'd removed the lamps.

Hopefully, the ending will be a happy one.

Yours,

Robin

Who knew cockatiels could be such good farmers?

2008-10-19T17:09:00.000-04:00

So I had this idea.

Since it's poop and seeds that routinely fall to the bottom of my cockatiel's cage, I wondered what would happen if I added potting soil and water (and some grass seed because I thought that would be pretty).

It didn't take long to reveal that dirt, seeds, water and poop get along pretty well:

Yeah, I have no idea what Cheeky and I are growing, but I'm excited anyway:

Farmer Cheeky:

Yours,

Robin

Nobody Owens -- The Graveyard Book -- Neil Gaiman

2008-10-15T17:16:00.000-04:00

I'm so enjoying this book that I'm listening to each chapter twice to make it last longer.

Build a fire, get some marshmallows, gather round and let Neil read it to you -- here.

Just wonderful. Color me thankful.

xoxo,

Robin

The Harper Collins Audiobook Widget

2008-10-15T17:13:00.001-04:00

Quilt progress

2008-10-14T09:48:00.001-04:00

I thought some of you might be curious as to my quilt-endeavor progress:

Can you tell which pic was taken before I discovered someone's been licking my camera lens?

It's surprisingly hard to tell.

xo,

Robin

Dear Alaska -- We love you, please stay

2008-10-08T11:29:00.001-04:00

A political thread on Fark led me to this video on YouTube:

(/via The Jed Report )

The most interesting quote from the video?

"Our current governor, who I mentioned the last conference, the one we were hoping would get elected, Sarah Palin, did get elected. You should infiltrate -- I know that the Christian Exodus is in favor of it, the Free State movement is in favor of it. Put the Republican label on it to get elected that's all there is to it." -- Dexter Clark, Vice Chairman, Alaska Independence Party, 2nd Annual Secessionist Convention, November, 2007, Memphis, Tennessee

"Put the Republican label on it [by context I take it he means Sarah Palin] to get elected that's all there is to it."

Sarah? Explain please. Why does this associate at whose conventions you have given supporting speeches, infer that they "put a Republican label on it" (you) to get you elected?

Robin

Books, what can't they do?

2008-09-23T15:11:00.000-04:00

Thank goodness for books!

I've been wondering how I would go about learning to cuss in Spanish.

I imagined flying down there and slipping random people in back alleys a few pesos. "Psst . . . por favor, I really need a few good ones, come on man, I won't tell anyone you told me, just a few, come on . . . Personas, they cut right in front of me in line! I really need something good, come on, whatta you got? Yeah? Okay, now how about something about their mama . . . Yeah, yeah, that's it. Thanks, man. Thanks."

Rosetta Stone is a nice language program but it is seriously lacking in the profanity department.

Not one lousy unit on telling people off or what to say when you drop the Rosetta Stone on your foot.

But now, thanks to The Shooters (WEB Griffin), I know how to say "Sons of Bitches," in Spanish.

I think you'll agree that "Sons of Bitches" and variations of such can be applied to a pleasingly wide variety of situations which require language of a more colorful nature.

Thanks, Mr. G.

xo,

Robinita

Garage project

2008-09-22T16:19:00.003-04:00

Because you know that painting the garage should be a 4-audio book job instead of a 2-audio book job.

And you probably have a miscellaneous bunch of leftover paint you'd like to get rid of anyhow.

And you like when the neighbor kids stop by and say, "Hey, that's cool, Mrs. Grantham."

And it's not like you'll have to make the hubby park outside again and someone will break his window and steal his stuff causing him several weeks of agony.

Or this will be followed by a call from an ER doc informing you that you might want to know that your hubby's stuff is all over her wooded lot and has been for several days.

Or you will go get it and find it's been rained on. A lot. And it's impossibly full of dirt, leaves, rollie pollies, maggots, and -- several other horrible critters whose classification eludes you.

Dear bugs: It's not a dead body -- it's paper and plastic. What could be so tasty?

Why would the creepy-crawlies love it so?

The question still haunts me.

I mean there wasn't a single twinkie in the whole pile.

Just what are they making paper out of nowadays?

Come to think of it, I should have dug through those rotted leaves a bit more. Lincoln Rhyme (Jeffery Deaver crime scene investigator character) would have been so unimpressed with my cringe, squeal, toss and run crime scene technique.

Maybe I'll go back.

Or not.

I hope you all are well.

xoxo,

Robin

lol-tesla

2008-09-19T16:17:00.001-04:00

moar funny pictures

Children say it better

2008-09-11T10:37:00.001-04:00

Fundamentalists, extremists, those foreign and domestic who would use fear, terror and violence to manipulate the world -- well, I just wish everyone would stop for a minute and let this little girl represent what could be.

A continuing escalation of fear, violence and corruption won't end in a place that holds the magic of children and music.

We don't have to go there. We have a choice.

If we can imagine a different world, we can make it happen.

xoxo,

Robin

Connie Talbot- Imagine

2008-09-11T10:09:00.001-04:00

One more

2008-09-05T09:32:00.002-04:00

Habiscus varicosis

2008-09-04T20:41:00.003-04:00

So, these are cuttings from my habiscuses...(habisci?).

Aren't the veins cool? Ironically, they're from Hawaii, where women don't have actual veins.

In Hawaii, cute cabana boys come 'round and spritz blood into the bodies of the gorgeous women who hang there. They don't mess with that pesky soft tissue plumbing.

Except for me, of course. I had to be there with my veins all hanging out like Interstate Highways.

Be warned.

I do miss you guys but I'm busy bettering myself.

When we go to war with a country, I now know where it is! (Thanks, Sheppard Geography Learning Games!)

I'm learning Spanish! It's like a whole different language!

You only live once. I'm doing my best to make the most of it.

I hope you all are well.

xoxo,

Robin

Something a little less disturbing

2008-08-08T12:11:00.004-04:00

Silly puppies at my sister's house kept crawling into this bit of hose:

I'll be safe in here!

So I didn't think my cunning plan all the way through. You know it just makes me cuter.

xo,

Robin

Random pictures from the road

2008-08-05T11:35:00.004-04:00

Nefarious headless monster which resides in the Mall of America in Minneapolis:

Coniferous Claws

Scary.

xo,

Robin

Bread and sky

2008-07-31T10:22:00.008-04:00

You city folk grab your kiddies. Let's show them what their bread looks like before it magically appears in the grocery store:

Don't you wonder about the first person who looked at that and said, "Mmm, boy that looks tasty." Methinks he or she had to be pretty hungry to think it would be a good idea to chomp on broom parts.

The sky here angers easily:

Just to throw you off guard, there's often beauty in the anger:

It's beautiful here, but it can be terrifying. To which I refer to the ominous skies, relentless winds and frequent tornadoes. Although it's nice when the wind keeps the mosquitos and biting flies away.

As in most cases, best to focus on the beauty.

More later.

xoxo,

Robin

A living room with a vaulted ceiling

2008-07-30T10:35:00.010-04:00

If you lure that cowboy over here, I'll eat him instead of you.
~ Tea Rex, Lemmon, South Dakota

Hello, world!

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking: I bet that Curious Distractions chick is sitting along the Missouri River by the Mandan Indian summer village in North Dakota. Well, you're right! Okay, that was yesterday, but still. Good job, you.

Do you want to know what's great about walking along the Missouri near the Mandan summer village?

No SpongeBob Squarepants in your ears, that's what. Not that I don't like SpongeBob, mind you. It's just that hours and hours and decibels and decibels of SpongeBob in a small room with three other humans and questionable plumbing can get a little overwhelming. One might begin imagining soaking up all sorts of unsavory and possibly radioactive liquids with a sponge who screams longer than any sponge should scream at any mouth-breather. Sorry, SpongeBob. We'll be friends again, but not today.

So, we're on the road and I thought I'd at least share some pictures.

These are from west central North Dakota, south of Bismarck:

From the rogue wheat shores of the baby Sunflower Sea:

And the equally rogue sunflower shores of the great Wheat Ocean:

Said Missouri River, from said Mandan summer village:

It wouldn't be right if I didn't show you a sod house:

~Yeah, it's not much to look at, but I can fly. My front yard floats fifty feet over the Missouri.

Said living room:

Lucky bird.

More later.

I hope you all are well.

xoxo,

Robin

Chipmunk menus and Picasso-grunge

2008-07-14T11:13:00.006-04:00

Oh, they love when I think I'm wise parenting quote of late:

"The thing about putting things off until later is that later has the rude habit of showing up in another now." ~ Robin Grantham

So the other robins (and, yes, I DO eat worms, thanks for asking. 400 times. all through school. yum. worms.), inspired by remnants of prank night, the night in which someone toilet-papered our neighbor's house and plastic-wrapped our truck, have moved their digs to another tree:

I call their architechtural style Picasso-grunge. Lovely.

Unfortunately, they've built their Picasso-grunge masterpiece in almost the exact spot in which I took the picture of the chipmunk. Methinks they don't know the scoop regarding chipmunks and their taste for delicious little blue orbs:

In their defense, that is one tiny cranium:

Gargoyle pose:

I *heart* summer.

xoxo,

Robin

Fourth of July

2008-07-07T11:21:00.008-04:00

Dear Britain: I'm glad we're buds now. Wouldn't it be cool if the Revolutionary War had been a big picnic with that game where you have to touch the bat to home plate, spin around it a dozen or so times and then run for first base? Revolutions can be funny!

I can't be revolutionary, it doesn't agree with my stomach juices. Hell, being stationary doesn't always agree with my juices.

Speaking of stomach juices, my fifteen-year-old recently scored a learner's permit. So, being the brilliant folk that we are, we decided to let her break in her plastic on the holiday that is notorious for drunk drivers and random exploding things. And by "we" I mean "not me." I hid in the back wishing my eyelids were thicker and that they had zippers. Some ear zippers wouldn't have hurt, either. The road holds quite the potpourri of terrifying noises when you have your eyes closed and you believe death is imminent.

So, we made it to the lake house, which totally did not have a magic mailbox with Keanu Reeves on the other side, but did have a thrilling 45-degree driveway lined with bumper trees, fences and plants. Humorist and motivational speaker, Dane Wysocki and his beautiful wife, Karin, let us borrow the house (even though they've met us and everything) while they were away coaching baseball, so thanks Dane, Karin and kids.

We had a great time. Highlights included a tree-climbing dog:

I loved that tree, though it's doomed:

Also, we met new friends, including Peggy, the mom of the lead singer of The Red Hot Chili Peppers (Anthony Kiedis), with whom we shared some mom talk regarding meddling in our kids' lives. Generally, we decided that you can't and shouldn't (meddle) and yet you can and should. So, there you have it. Please send any parenting book contracts directly to me.

We also met this guy, but he didn't have much to say in regards to parenting:
I think he was holding out on us.

I tried to get gorgeous fireworks pictures, but yeah, I got these instead:

I loved watching the lights of the boats heading home after the fireworks. Complete darkness had fallen by then, so you could only see green and white points of light moving along together on the plane of the water's surface. Very cool.

I hope you all had a fabulous weekend!

Unbeige trappings

2008-07-02T08:43:00.013-04:00

After painting the pool shed trim and door a lovely beige with a side of beige, I craved to spruce the place up with some color:

I noticed something peculiar when I saw the following photo. Do you see it?

First I thought I saw the photographer's reflection in the right side of the door window. Then I remembered that the photographer was yours truly and that I took the photo from the porch -- too far away for my reflection to appear in the window. Never mind -- that is my reflection. First beige, then anticlimactic shock. I'm going to need more yellow pots.

But wait! The mystery of the reflection caused me to notice something kind of cool. But what could be as cool as a photographer reflection? Hold on, I'll show you:

Do you see it? A window cat!

Here, I'll zoom in for you:

Yes, the ceiling cat is trapped in my pool shed. A ransom note will be forthcoming.

Tesla says she had nothing to do with it:

I'm not sure I believe her.

Yours,

Robin

Today's distraction: Library of Congress online (LOCO!)

2008-06-30T14:42:00.008-04:00

Crazy cool that is, though it needs more Nicolas Cage.

At LOCO you can find . . .

~A breathtaking assortment of original treasured documents, including the Constitution of the United States. Did I mention the TREASURED part? Good.

Some other interesting tidbits I noticed:
~An image of the telegram Helen Keller wrote Alexander Graham Bell requesting that he stand by her side and help the audience understand her at a speech she was scheduled to give:

~Fabulous glamour shots of yesteryear:

~They even have a photostream where you can see interesting people and places you should know about but don't, unless you do:

As if that weren't enough, they have answers (42!) to some of life's more interesting questions.

I don't know about you, but I'm a huge fan of answers. Especially answers provided by librarians, who are fabulous and hardly ever wrong.

Yours,

Robin

The dingo ate your baby

2008-06-29T13:22:00.007-04:00

Poor hubby has been banished from the garage due to the painting exploitations of his slightly insane wife. (Hey, doors won't paint themselves, you know.)

And so he's had to park his behemoth gas-guzzler outside.

This morning, as I descended the stairs, my crust-laden eyes saw this:

It's plastic wrap, thank goodness. I'd feared someone had given us a horizontal racing stripe, flashy for racing horizontally, say towards a river, or up to a Dingo-collecting spaceship. (Yes, we call our car the 'Dingo.' This name, when spoken, must be accompanied by an imitation of Seinfeld's Elaine, as in "Maybe the dingo ate your baby." Though it sounds twisted, the moniker was actually inspired by the fact that the car is a Durango. (What the hell is a Durango, anyway? Oh, well it's a town in Colorado, of course. Incidentally, I miss rhetorical questions. Damn you, Google. You have stolen my right not to care about the answers to my questions!)

Here you go: (It's at 1:03)

I must now point out that none of this would have happened if I owned this car:

Okay, technically, I'd still kick the hubby out of the garage when I needed his side to do some painting, but I'd have something beautiful and inspirational on my side to look at while I painted, which would make me do a better job. Which, I'm sure you'll agree, would benefit the hubby and so is almost as good.

Can you say, "Made for me?" (Yay, a rhetorical question I don't have to google.)

It's electric! It's red! It's named after my dog, for dog's sake!

Tesla and Mom want, want, want Tesla car.

Regarding the chances of me getting the above car: My first car set me back a hefty 6,000 dollars and I kept it 15 years. Um, yeah. So, probably not.

Oh, well. It probably wouldn't look good in horizontal stripes, anyway.

Yours,

Robin

Willard Wigan wonderment . . . full of it, I am

2008-06-29T11:51:00.005-04:00

Carved in the span between the beats of his heart and painted using hairs from the backs of flies.

/via fark

TIME and the dangers of CT scans

2008-06-28T08:17:00.007-04:00

I noticed a wonderful article in TIME yesterday, written by Catherine Guthrie. It draws attention to the dangers and abuses of CT scans.

You know that CT scans look at you in slices. The computer takes those slices and builds a model your doctor can use to diagnose what's wrong with you. It's a wonderful tool, but you need to know about the trade-offs. Each of those slices is an X-ray. In some cases, you may receive the radiation equivalent of up to 1000 X-rays during one session in the CT scanner. That might be the best thing for you, and much less damaging than exploratory surgery. Then again, it might be unnecessary and if you find yourself with cancer twenty years later, you'll never know if the radiation from your CT scan was the cause.

Every day, our medical system delivers radiation to patients via CT scans that are performed to protect against lawsuits, performed as a way to "turf" a patient (meaning, to pass the patient on to another department -- and sending a patient for tests is a satisfying, profitable, and efficient way to do that), or, and this is the worst of all, performed because of poor communication between doctors and facilities. It is much easier, more efficient, and more profitable to give you a second CT scan, than it is to hunt down, procure and decipher the results of a scan that you received earlier or elsewhere.

Hubby says he's seen specialists repeat CT scans even though the second scanner (machine) was inferior to the first. All scanners are not created equal. In some cases, the original finding cannot be detected on the second scan because of its poor quality. A patient could potentially be radiated twice and then sent home with no findings, even though there were clear findings on the first scan. Scary stuff. That's without even considering the cost of being double-scanned.

Funny, people have given up so much of their privacy in the name of national security, but medical privacy is so tight that people die all the time because of poor communication between doctors and facilities. The communication of medical records and test results needs to be online in a standardized, secure way, and readily available to the professionals who need access to it. Someone close to me had open chest surgery only to find a complication that had actually been available on a non-invasive test the patient had received earlier. Not good. To say the least. That patient was a veteran, so guess who paid for the test results that weren't used and the surgery that didn't help? Yep, you. All of us.

Is it malpractice for a doc not to check all the available information? Maybe, but it would also be malpractice (and extremely inefficient) for a doctor to spend inordinate amounts of time chasing down information that should be at his fingertips. It takes a bazillion years to become a surgeon. The services and skills of each one needs to be maximized in every way possible.

Yours,

Robin

Mourning and Night

2008-06-25T08:28:00.007-04:00

Night to Morning: I'll miss you, too. Don't cry.
Morning to Night: But our time together is so brief. The more I reach out, the more you slip away.
Night to Morning:

Orange blooms hold morning's tears:

A random hill of radish babies:

Lillies that do not miss the lilly-scarfing rabbits:

Yours,

Robin

Esoteric ecosystems

2008-06-24T08:07:00.004-04:00

This egg disappeared. Meanwhile, the chipmunk has been skittering around looking mighty full of: egg. Poor robins.

I tell myself this bunny, chubby and wise, made it. It now lives in the yard of a nursing home, where the slight woman who does all the laundry wonders why several of the residents consistently have salad dressing in their pockets. All hail the chubby and wise.

Sorry to be MIA. Life snarls around the nice bits sometimes.

Hope all of you are well.

Yours,

Robin

Until dogs climb trees...

2008-06-12T07:37:00.001-04:00

Psst... Lady! Is that dog in there with you? I don't want to tell you your business, but have you thought of buying it some DOG FOOD? Hmm? Just a suggestion. I can't stay in this tree forever, you know.

Bunny Pez

2008-06-10T12:05:00.003-04:00

Weird summer. Characters in my life continue to compete for the head drama magnet slot. My sister and her baby recently ended up at the scene of a horrible crime. On a note of marginal upsidedness, the scene ended with the bad guy being taken away in handcuffs. The story is here, if you're in the mood to be traumatized. My sister sat nearby in the car with her baby, waiting for her friends, who were riding horses on the trails of the park. She didn't witness anything except the chaos, and the guy being led away by authorities, but that was enough. Too much.

Not to be outdone, Tesla, my sweet and scruffy mongrel, has decided that juvenile rabbits are quite a bit tastier than dog food. Though I must admit that parts of me favor this new bunnies-as-Pez theme as compared to the old, bunny-innards-as-carpet-murals motif, I can't help but be disturbed by this development. Dear Bunnies: Ours in not the yard for you!

Like I said, weird.

On a happier note, my roses are blooming and I already have a nice crop of lettuce.

Yours,

Robin

The war has ended; everyone won

2008-06-04T18:49:00.008-04:00

Yours,

Robin

Fields of dreams

2008-06-04T11:17:00.005-04:00

NASA scientists have figured out how to make magnetic fields visible. Take a few seconds to imagine how the magnetic fields you're sitting in right now look. Are you near a computer? An outlet? Is your fridge covered with magnets? What do you suppose those fields would look like if you could see them?

Love this kind of stuff. I can't wait to see how the fields of a high-tesla MRI magnet look.

Yours,

Robin

/via fark

Lost goddess

2008-06-04T10:38:00.003-04:00

Recently, a man named Rick Young wrote me, promising to tell me a true love story. A story about love, yes, but also a story about travel, motorcycles, small towns . . . and loss.

Grab a box of tissues and I'll share a link to his site.

Rick has begun the cross-country journey he and his wife always swore they'd take together. She died before they had a chance to fulfill their dream, but she made him promise that he would do it for her after her own journey ended.

I think he's hoping that by opening himself to others and to new places, he can heal his own soul with the stories and experiences of those he meets along the way. I hope so.

His story touched me, so I wrote him, thanking him for sharing and asking him if I could pass his story along to you.

I hope you'll visit him and wish him well on his journey.

Yours,

Robin

Boston and lobsters in The Mist

2008-06-03T11:58:00.007-04:00

I dropped off the map there for a bit, didn't I? Damn airlines. Actually, I can't blame it on them; everything went smoothly, though a big wolf stared us down as we landed in Detroit. One of those bizarre but beautiful sightings; rare and treasured.

The kids are out of school, so we've been adjusting and lining up activities. We had to postpone the annual shaving creme war because of our trip. We're having it tomorrow. You're all invited. You know you want to see if you can spray a can of creme on your head and use it to make your hair stand straight up.

Sorry, I wish I really could invite you, but you'll have to try it on your own turf. As a longtime shaving creme war aficionado, I'll share some wisdom of the creme: Wear goggles; remember that shaving creme is as pretty as whipped cream, but not as yummy; and please send pictures to robin (at) robingrantham.com.

Speaking of pictures, I'll share a few more from Boston. I can't believe the Celtics docs weren't there. It's almost as if they were busy or something.

This was a fountain on the mall near Paul Revere's house:

And this was Paul Revere's house:
We weren't allowed to take pictures inside, but it was modest by today's standards, and has been renovated many times over the years. The walk-in fireplace, most notably, transported me back in time, and I thought the small social gathering table in the master bedroom was interesting as well.

This guy waved me inside when I took a picture of his lobsters through the restaurant window. Does he know how to work a lobster photo op, or what? Loved the tiny fork. That's the way lobsters look in Stephen King books, right before they eat YOU. Ha, we just watched The Mist last night. I thought it rhythmically sound and at times mind-blowing. Lord of the Superflies meets Carrie's mother.

Yours,

Robin

Pics from the Freedom Trail -- Boston

2008-05-31T08:17:00.005-04:00

I'm supposed to be polishing my bat wings for the flight home, but I thought I'd post a few pics first. Yesterday I walked around Boston for seven hours. During a few of those hours, I wasn't even lost. What? I said bat wings, not homing pigeon wings. In other news, I really should start carrying a compass. Yaargh.

More later.

Yours,

Robin

Peek-sures

2008-05-30T20:16:00.005-04:00

Pictures that I hope are worth a thousand words. Or at least maybe 87 to 93 words apiece. Imagine those words are insightful and perhaps witty. Sorry. My heart jumped out the window at the top of the Bunker Hill Monument (294 steps!) and I'm finding it difficult to write without it. There goes my steamy romance career.

Boston pics

2008-05-30T16:55:00.007-04:00

More later. Have a great weekend!

Yours,

Robin

So you want your kid to be a professional pitcher

2008-05-28T16:43:00.004-04:00

We made it to Boston. I fell instantly in love with the architecture here, but I'll have to get to that later.

First, baseball and the sports medicine theme of the morning

Here's a shocker -- pitching is bad for your arm. Okay, you knew that. You probably also know that pitchers should start young. Not just to learn or because they need a lot of practice, but because your arm actually develops differently if you pitch before you're done growing. If your arm doesn't develop in this way, it's virtually impossible for you to become a professional pitcher.

Another odd bit -- you know that part of the pitch when the pitcher lays his forearm straight back behind him, right before beginning the forward motion? Well, every time he does that he's pushing his arm almost to the point of breaking. And I just tried it for research purposes and now you all owe me a new arm. I'd like one with nice deltoids and nothing dangling beneath the tricep please. Thanks.

Okay, so here's the thing I'd never heard. Parents of potential pitching stars, listen up. Do not have your child practice sliders and curveballs. I know it's counterintuitive, but the angle and pressures those pitches entail can damage your child's developing anatomy in a way that will render him physically incapable of becoming a professional pitcher. I'm not a doctor. Please consult as many sources as possible, but the report I heard was that professional team docs believe no child should pitch a whole game, much less be on several teams, and that they should focus on fastballs and changeups. The best scenario would be that all young pitchers have a professional pitching coach teach them how to pitch in a way that doesn't permanently damage their arms. That's not exactly feasible, so it's up to parents to inform themselves and do the best they can. Being a great sports parent isn't always about pushing. If you really want your kid to go pro, be smart.

Hubby said he has seen kids with eighty-year-old elbows due to pitching injuries. Kids. With eighty-year-old elbows. These are not kids who will go pro. These are kids who will put garlic on their elderly parents' pudding as revenge for said parents pushing them to wreck their arms. Have you ever had garlic on pudding? Not good. Back to the elbow. The medial collateral ligament can pull off or fracture the medial epicondyle and cartilage injuries can "frag out" -- fragments of it can break off and float around the area, causing more and more damage.

One of the docs had a chance to talk with a team doc from Japan, where they have very rigorous youth programs. All too often, they injure the players from whom they want greatness -- and those players never get to find out how great they would have been.

Key words for more research: growth plates, open growth plates, medial epicondyle, medial collateral ligament, overuse injuries

Also, some links.

Yours,

Robin

I'm too lucky for my sox

2008-05-27T10:35:00.004-04:00

We're headed to Boston for a sports medicine conference today. I know: wrong coast. All the book people are in Los Angeles. And really, how complicated can elbows, ankles, knees, shoulders, etc., be? Advances in MRI . . . if they would stop advancing, Hubby wouldn't have to keep learning new stuff. I mean, how full can one person's brain be? Looks like the medical director for the Boston Red Sox and The New England Patriots will be there. Whoa. And I was excited about seeing Paul Revere's house. Is it wrong that I wonder if he's cute? By which I mean the Sox doc, not Paul Revere. I imagine Paul's looking a little thin and dusty by now. Actually, I'm pretty sure I won't get to meet said director. I'll have to hear about him vicariously. They won't let me attend the meetings ever since I sat in the front row singing, "Head, Shoulders, Knees & Toes" over and over again. (Yes, I still think of that song every time.) Barney-haters, that's what they are. You never know what the evenings will hold, though. We'll see.

Wandering the halls of Massachusetts General, hoping for a glimpse of something Ted Kennedy-related seems to be out, too. I heard he's off sailing. Go, Ted. So, I'll take pictures and if I hear something juicy that I can actually share; you'll be the first to know.

No one tell them I'm coming. This is just between us.

Now I'm off to pack the bat Garanimals. Those of you with nearly all black wardrobes can relate to that, I imagine. At least I won't need Montezuma's Revenge medicine for this trip. Oddly, that makes me think of Boston Crème Pie. Mmm . . . pie.

Yours,

Robin

Death and honor

2008-05-26T11:31:00.003-04:00

My sister is so selfish. She was sitting in the stands at a softball game and one of the players died and she gave the girl CPR and defibrillated her back to life -- and didn't call me and tell me about it! How selfish is that? Even further, she didn't call the papers or even give anyone her name. The most evidence I could find to support my story (which would have been magnificent, by the way, if I had more generous, self-sacrificing sisters who thought of me and my need for writing material first like they should) was a measly bit on the softball site that said something like "thanks to the quick action of the umpire and the nurse in the stands..." blah, blah, blah...the nurse in the stands? She couldn't give one lousy person her name?

Kidding aside, we're all thinking about heroes today. I hope that those of us who aren't "that guy" (thanks, Live Free or Die Hard), never forget to live up to our responsibility to make sure that lives are never sacrificed in vain and that our heroes, especially the ones who never come home, are honored.

It's sort of depressing, but something occurred to me as I wrote this:

Death is the only thing we do perfectly.

So relax, some day you'll be perfect. Perfectly dead.

Suddenly perfect doesn't look so great, does it?

Imperfectly yours,

Robin

Odd Hours

2008-05-21T09:57:00.006-04:00

Today's writing tidbit:

'Ejaculated' is almost never the right dialogue tag, especially when the speaker is a woman.

Don't believe me?

Don't take my word for it; I'm just the messenger here.

Check out Dean Koontz's podcast: Episode 21, Moments in a Publishing Life

Incidentally, don't you get excited when you find someone who has literary tastes similar to your own, and you discover they haven't read something you really liked?

This happened in our house recently when we discovered my mother hadn't read Koontz's Odd Thomas yet. Hubby zipped to our fair library and got her a copy. She prefers paper and ink and our copy is the audio version.

As predicted, she loved it. She made a point, several times, to come over to me with the book, holding it open as if afraid that if she closed it she might not be able to get it open again. "All parts of this book are good."

"I know," I would say.

Then, one day she was reading at the table next to my desk. Suddenly she folded the book on her finger, almost willing to close it and push it away, but only because she didn't want it to end. She looked at me, her soul peeking through her pupils, waving at me and making me a little uncomfortable. I don't want to see that. I'm still trying to get over seeing her naked.

"I love him," she said.

I had to smile. "Odd Thomas? You love Odd Thomas?"

"Yes."

Then it was over. The End. She asked us, "There are more of them, right?"

"Yes."

"Get them for me," she said, twitching.

"You're an Oddict!" I accused.

"Just get them," she said, narrowing the space between her lids, scaring her soul back to its hiding place.

"No," we told her. "You have to pace yourself. Read someone else between. You don't want to O.D. on ODD."

"Okay," she said, sullen. "Fine. KC's got this Jack London fellow she wants me to read."

"Call of the Wild?"

"Yeah."

"That's her favorite book. Don't worry; you'll like that too."

So, in case you other Oddicts out there didn't realize; there is a new Odd out as of yesterday. Odd Hours.

Don't worry; I believe Mr. Koontz now has complete artistic control of his dialogue tags.

Yours,

Robin

Funniest Ad: It Could Happen To You by Alexandra Barreto, Rider Strong, and Shiloh Strong

2008-05-20T13:02:00.002-04:00

Politics aside, this is just clever and funny:

Diapers and fluorescent orange ice cream

2008-05-20T09:45:00.007-04:00

If I told you I've been working on pull-ups and push-ups, you'd probably wonder what sort of sordid experiments people could perform using diapers and fluorescent orange ice cream, but you'd be wrong. I mean actual pull-ups and push-ups. You know, with the pulling and the pushing. Or the attempts thereof.

The good news is that only the parts of me with muscles were sore yesterday. And my hair hurt a little, but that might have been my imagination.

Today's writing tidbits:

Hurry and build a platform; it will help you get published.

Also, hurry and get published; it will help you build a platform.

You're welcome.

Better yet, try to keep your sense of humor; it will keep you sane.

Speaking of your sense of humor, I hope Sunday's post got some of you talking about global warming (chilly here again today, by the way). Do I really believe it doesn't exist and we are instead starting a new ice age? Here's the thing: I never needed and still don't need to know if it exists or not. I was born in Cleveland. I've smelled many of our cities. I don't need statistics to tell me that air is not supposed to be chunky. I don't know how I'd convince myself that tons of chunk that weren't there before don't mutate our planet. There are probably hallucinogenics that would help me in that department, but I'm afraid they'd make me write about lilac laser-wielding butterflies. Mutations seldom change things for the better. Except in X-Men. And possibly in writing full of laser-enhanced butterflies.

In Costa Rica they heated our water with a solar panel and a tank.

The simplicity of it made me realize how much of our dependence on wasteful consumption is perceived. It made me feel ridiculous. For me we don't need the big discussions on what we are doing to the planet to make me know that what is coming out of our smokestacks and cars is wrong. I only need my nose and watery eyes for that. Sometimes things are much simpler than we make them. Seems that way to me, anyhow.

So, let's keep talking. Conversation and communication. That's what the words are all about. Good stuff.

Speaking of words, it's time for today's related random thriller book look. Amazon key words: sore muscles

HOLD TIGHT
by Harlan Coben

Want to flip through the pages? Yeah, me too.

Here's the synopsis from his website:

How well do you really know your child?

Tia and Mike Baye never imagined they’d spy on their kids. But their sixteen-year-old son Adam has been unusually distant lately, and after the suicide of his best friend Spencer Hill, they can’t help but worry. Within days of installing a sophisticated spy program on Adam’s computer they are jolted by a cryptic message from an unknown correspondent that shakes them to their core: “Just stay quiet and all safe.”

As if Mike Baye isn’t dealing with enough, he also learns that Lucas Loriman, the sweet kid who grew up next door, is in urgent need of a kidney transplant. As the boy’s doctor, Mike suddenly finds himself in possession of an explosive secret that threatens to rip the Loriman family apart at the seams.
Nearby, while browsing through an online memorial for Spencer, Betsy Hill discovers a surprising detail about the night of her son’s death. Before she can find out more, Adam disappears, taking the truth with him and sending shockwaves through the neighborhood.

As the lives of these families collide in tragic, unexpected, and violent ways, long-hidden connections in their small suburb begin to work their way to the surface. And when an unidentified Jane Doe is beaten to death not far away, those connections threaten to turn this quiet community upside down—and force these desperate parents to decide whether there is any line they won’t cross to protect those they love most in the world.

Congratulations, you survived Monday!

Yours,

Robin

Taking the high road by sneaker

2008-05-18T10:44:00.002-04:00

Best sign from today's 5k:

Life is short, running makes it seem longer.

Bwahaha. Since the other signs had inspirational quotes on them and not Gary Larson cartoons, I'm guessing they meant "running makes it longer." Which is good, because then you have more time for running.

Two of the guys who won the race ran the whole thing again before I finished. That means I had three chances to trip them, but I didn't. I think you'll agree that I'm practically a saint.

'Twas 49 degrees and windy. So I'm assuming that by global warming, you all mean, "oncoming ice age." Maybe that's the endorphins talking. Or the lingering decompensation. One or the other.

I'm pretty sure the guy who won lapped the planet and turned back time a bit, so you might want to adjust your clocks accordingly.

I hope you've all had a fantastic weekend.

Yours,

Robin

Senator Kennedy

2008-05-17T22:32:00.006-04:00

You have probably heard that Ted Kennedy is at Mass General in Boston after exhibiting stroke-like symptoms this morning.

Oddly enough, Hubby and I are going there at the end of the month so Hubby can attend a sports medicine conference. Hopefully Senator Kennedy will be home, happy and healthy by then.

It's a good time to raise awareness, so I'll mention that James Macdonald did an informative write-up about strokes over at Making Light. The most important thing being, once again, to get to the hospital as soon as possible if you're having stroke-like symptoms. Timing is everything.

I wanted to add a bit about related procedures. In October of last year, Senator Kennedy had a procedure called a carotid endarterechtomy. That is a procedure wherein they bypass the clogged artery with a hose, then clamp off the diseased area, slice it open, scrape the plaque out of the inside of the artery, then sew the artery back together. Then they remove the hose and repair those stab wounds. Sounds scary, but the endarterechtomy is preferable over a stent if you're a good candidate for it, and that's coming from someone who works for a group who profits from placing stents, so there you go. Even though it's more intrusive, there are fewer complications and the benefits last longer.

The more you know.

Yours,

Robin

Slugs as living art -- who knew?

2008-05-15T07:45:00.002-04:00

I can't paste a picture, but they're worth the click.

Beautiful slugs from National Geographic.

/via FARK

Could you hold this for me?

2008-05-14T10:12:00.004-04:00

Tish Cohen's new blog, Waits at the Window, explores anxiety and ways to deal with it. Which is good, because breaking all the windows of your least favorite neighbor's house is often frowned upon as a way of dealing with anxiety. Even when they deserve it. What can I say; life isn't fair.

Lately, Tish talks about a creative tool you or your child can use in which you visualize your anxiety as an entity outside yourself. Sort of like turning the monster under the bed into a friend. Okay, more of a receptacle than a friend, but still. (As long as you're causing me anxiety, why don't you hold it all for me?)

Some people like this kind of thing; some people don't. I know athletes use all sorts of different approaches to psych themselves out. At any rate, check it out. You know you want to know what other people's anxiety critters look like. Tell Tish how you'd imagine yours if you had one. (I suggest that you do not use Bill O'Reilly as your anxiety critter. Don't ask me why, but it has something to do with that f-bomb video of his that's been floating around. Oops, they yanked it. I don't blame them. Bill, get an anxiety critter. It might help.)

Tish's forthcoming book, Inside Out Girl, is about a learning-disabled girl who becomes an accidental superhero in inside out pajamas.

The cover alone reduces my anxiety:

Love that.

Yours,

Robin

Race #2

2008-05-10T14:56:00.013-04:00

Make that "Race" #2. Yes, I did the whole 3.1 miles. (Damn you, metric system -- we used to be friends! 3 miles would have sufficed.)

My main goal was not to puke and I didn't. Yay, me!

My secondary goal was not to die, which soon moved me to trump my first goal with Don’t puke AND die. Those kids en route handing out sickly sweet juice after asking me if I wanted some water almost kept me from my goal, but, in true Idiocracy fashion, I thwarted them by watering the grass with it. I slowed to inquire as to where I should put my cup and they made me throw it right on the ground. On the ground, I tell you! Now I really am going to hell.

On the less yay-infused side, like ten grandmas, grandpas, and an alarming number of assorted small children beat me. And two, maybe three babies. Oh, come on -- they rode in strollers. Epic little cheaters.

I knew I hadn't done so well, when I was still a quarter-lap away and the announcer said, "Here come the limpers!" Verrrrry funny. He's lucky there wasn't any blood in my head or I totally would have said something clever to him when I went by twenty minutes later. Though I did put a tone in my moan (tone in my moan!) as I passed him. "You got 45'30"," he told me, his big panda eyes resting sad and limpid in his face.

So, as it turns out, I had to add both truth and the metric system to my list of overrated concepts today.

Speaking of running, it so happens that news about a related book arrived in my inbox today. I'll tell you about it, since I haven't recently received any news of any books about a mysterious series of murders in which the victims are finish-line announcers. If somebody could work on that, it would be great. (Nah, I thought he was hilarious and I appreciated the humor. In fact, I was mad he didn't say something snarky when I crossed the finish line. How am I supposed to get writing material if he just stares at me in sympathetic silence?)

Okay, back to books.

Ah, running and horror, a perfect match:

The Gingerbread Girl
By Stephen King
Read by Mare Winningham

In the emotional aftermath of her baby's sudden death, Em starts running. Soon she runs from her husband, to the airport, down to the Florida Gulf and out to the loneliest stretch of Vermillion Key, where her father has offered the use of a conch shack he has kept there for years. Em keeps up her running -- barefoot on the beach, sneakers on the road -- and sees virtually no one. This is doing her all kinds of good, until one day she makes the mistake of looking into the driveway of a man named Pickering. Pickering also enjoys the privacy of Vermillion Key, but the young women he brings there suffer the consequences. Will Em be next?

The real question is, will Robin be next? I'd better not run anymore, just in case.

I looked for more fiction related to running and this popped up:

Running Blind
by Lee Child

I went to buy the audio version and Amazon gave me these prices:
Unabridged audio $74.64 marked down from 402.25
Someone involved in the selling of this book obviously wants to see me divorced. (But, honey -- it's Lee Child! We love Jack Reacher!)

Okay, they fixed it. My marriage is safe. Here's the synopsis:

Jack Reacher is back, dragged into what looks like a series of grisly serial murders by a team of FBI profilers who aren't totally sure he's not the killer they're looking for, but believe that even if he isn't, he's smart enough to help them find the real killer. And what they've got on the ex-MP, who's starred in three previous Lee Child thrillers (Tripwire, Die Trying, Killing Floor), is enough to ensure his grudging cooperation: phony charges stemming from Reacher's inadvertent involvement in a protection shakedown and the threat of harm to the woman he loves.

The killer's victims have only one thing in common--all of them brought sexual harassment charges against their military superiors and all resigned from the army after winning their cases. The manner, if not the cause, of their deaths is gruesomely the same: they died in their own bathtubs, covered in gallons of camouflage paint, but they didn't drown and they weren't shot, strangled, poisoned, or attacked. Even the FBI forensic specialists can't figure out why they seem to have gone willingly to their mysterious deaths. Reacher isn't sure whether the killings are an elaborate cover-up for corruption involving stolen military hardware or the work of a maniac who's smart enough to leave absolutely no clues behind. This compelling, iconic antihero dead-ends in a lot of alleys before he finally figures it out, but every one is worth exploring and the suspense doesn't let up for a second. The ending will come as a complete surprise to even the most careful reader, and as Reacher strides off into the sunset, you'll wonder what's in store for him in his next adventure. --Jane Adams

Incidentally, Lee's newest book is Nothing to Lose

Two lonely towns in Colorado: Hope and Despair. Between them, twelve miles of empty road. Jack Reacher never turns back. It's not in his nature. All he wants is a cup of coffee. What he gets is big trouble. So in Lee Child’s electrifying new novel, Reacher—a man with no fear, no illusions, and nothing to lose—goes to war against a town that not only wants him gone, it wants him dead.

It wasn’t the welcome Reacher expected. He was just passing through, minding his own business. But within minutes of his arrival a deputy is in the hospital and Reacher is back in Hope, setting up a base of operations against Despair, where a huge, seething walled-off industrial site does something nobody is supposed to see . . . where a small plane takes off every night and returns seven hours later . . . where a garrison of well-trained and well-armed military cops—the kind of soldiers Reacher once commanded—waits and watches . . . where above all two young men have disappeared and two frightened young women wait and hope for their return.

Joining forces with a beautiful cop who runs Hope with a cool hand, Reacher goes up against Despair—against the deputies who try to break him and the rich man who tries to scare him—and starts to crack open the secrets, starts to expose the terrifying connection to a distant war that’s killing Americans by the thousand.

Now, between a town and the man who owns it, between Reacher and his conscience, something has to give. And Reacher never gives an inch.

Actually, there are so many good books in my inbox right now, I'm twitchy with happiness. (And that's even through the rapidly spreading necrosis of my recently-terrorized muscles.)
Look at this one, for instance:
The Host
by Stephenie Meyer

Please visit her site. I got a kick out of this from her bio:

The unusual spelling of my name was a gift from my father (Stephen + ie = me).

I'm glad my dad didn't do that because then my name would be Bennieie. Not good. (Apologies to any Bennieies out there.)

I also liked this:

We've been married for ten and a half years now, and have three beautiful, brilliant, wonderful boys who often remind me of chimpanzees on crack.

And Amazon's description of The Host :

Melanie Stryder refuses to fade away. The earth has been invaded by a species that take over the minds of their human hosts while leaving their bodies intact, and most of humanity has succumbed.

Wanderer, the invading "soul" who has been given Melanie's body, knew about the challenges of living inside a human: the overwhelming emotions, the too vivid memories. But there was one difficulty Wanderer didn't expect: the former tenant of her body refusing to relinquish possession of her mind.

Melanie fills Wanderer's thoughts with visions of the man Melanie loves-Jared, a human who still lives in hiding. Unable to separate herself from her body's desires, Wanderer yearns for a man she's never met. As outside forces make Wanderer and Melanie unwilling allies, they set off to search for the man they both love.

Featuring what may be the first love triangle involving only two bodies, THE HOST is a riveting and unforgettable novel that will bring a vast new readership to one of the most compelling writers of our time.

Well, that's one good thing about being out of shape. There's better real estate out there when other entities come looking for hosts.

It's the ones who might come looking for food that inspire me to keep running.

Yours,

Robin

Barackricot

2008-05-06T19:47:00.003-04:00

One of the kids told me her friend is against Barack Obama because her mother is Hungarian and Barack means apricot in Hungarian.

Wow. Well, that is kind of cute, I suppose, in a terrifying sort of way.

I checked a translator and it said Barack meant clout in Hungarian, but the word for apricot was sárgabarack or kajszi, so I suppose maybe they shorten that first word.

Doesn't Hungary have good apricots? Someone needs to send them some delicious apricots.

xoxo,

Robin

Upward Bound: dress for success

2008-05-06T19:18:00.006-04:00

You may remember that I recently blogged about walking in Father Ted's Fun Run/Walk for Upward Bound.

Well, today a mysterious box arrived at our house.

It contained five more Father Ted t-shirts.

So now we have nine Father Ted t-shirts.

I'll let you decide what it all means. No correspondence accompanied the shirts. Perhaps they just had too many. Perhaps someone in the program has a sense of humor. Perhaps -- well, let's just go with the sense of humor option.

I don't know, but I think we finally have the perfect outfit for big group family photos this summer.

I do still plan to read his book:

God, Country, Notre Dame
by Father Theodore Martin Hesburgh

xoxo,

Robin

Barack Obama has great guts

2008-05-04T23:18:00.002-04:00

When I said, "See you there," in regards to attending the family picnic for Barack Obama in Fort Wayne, Indiana, I didn't mean ALL of you. A few of you could have watched it on TV. Just sayin'.

Ha. A lot more people showed up than they expected. By the time we made it, the place looked full and the line stretched far down the street. To their credit, things moved quickly. I feared we'd be turned away, but they packed us in and, before it was through, we were shoulder to shoulder, filling the giant pavilion and spilling out the sides. When Michelle and then Barack Obama spoke, the crowd clamored, twisted, and struggled, trying to catch a glimpse. First, people stood on the chairs, then they climbed up onto the tables. I chauffeured Talulee and her friend to the top of one of the tables so they could see.

Earlier, I'd recognized Talulee's new level of maturity and concern when she spent the time before we left making a banner instead of primping.

Yeah, the Secret Service took the banner away. Oops. In case you were wondering, Barack Rocks her Socks.

Well, I wanted to give you a taste of the people side of what happened in Fort Wayne today. Yes, despite the banner faux pas, I did figure out the Secret Service wasn't going to let me bring in potato salad. And I don't just mean because I always cook the potatoes too long. They catered the picnic and though the food looked delicious, we were late and so were a lot more interested in worming our way toward the front than we were in eating.

Some people tried to stay seated. I felt sorry for those people, who invariably ended up with up close and personal views of the hineys of those who stood. One elderly woman asked if my plan was to sit in her lap. I didn't want to tell her I was about one push shy of ending up doing exactly that.

So many people packed in there, ready for change.

I see it as a real change to have a candidate who doesn't make decisions based solely on securing votes or on what is going to best serve him in the game of politics. Or, even worse, on what is required of him to please those who own him because of contributions, favors, or some antiquated political hierarchy that chauffeurs in those who are able to become more connected, cutthroat, and agenda-entangled than those they've stepped on, over or around to get to where they are.

It's nice to think there is a possibility we could have a president who makes decisions using logic, integrity, common sense, information, and intelligence. Who makes decisions based on what is right for the country and for the world, for now and for future generations. Senator Obama called it being able to do a gut check when it comes time to make decisions.

You can only make a gut check when you know who you are and what you stand for.

You can only make a gut check when you know you have the courage to do what's right instead of what is easy or offers you the biggest reward.

More later.

xoxo,

Robin

Obama picnic rally

2008-05-04T11:55:00.006-04:00

Talulee and I are getting ready to attend the Obama Family Picnic in Fort Wayne, Indiana.

We're bringing potato salad. Or, you know, whatever I can buy on short notice at some Fort Wayne grocery store.

I had to smile at Talulee's comment: "Mom, if I meet him I'm going to tell him that I'm happy he's going to be the next president because though it would be cool to have a girl president, it would be a lot cooler to have a GOOD president, since we haven't had one in a long time."

You'll have to trust me when I tell you she'd be even happier if he was a girl: she's just seeing the bigger picture here. Which makes me feel like I must be doing something right.

See you there.

xoxo,

Robin

Morning Song Writing Contest

2008-05-01T09:33:00.005-04:00

The fabulous Susan Henderson of LitPark motivated me to enter an essay contest held by Charles Shaughnessy, the dishy actor from The Nanny. Morning Song, by David Habbin with lyrics by Robin Lerner, inspired the contest:

The song is about the loss of a child and the challenge was to write about how even though loss tears through your soul, some good can come from it, if you let it.

Charlie's own words about it touched me this morning:

The gift that a loved one gives us when they die or when we do experience a personal loss, is a nudge in the ribs as if to say:

"Hey, wake up! Look how fleeting and unpredictable it can all be. Don't waste a moment worrying about what was or might be: live each moment in love, harmony, faith and patience. If you can do that, really "be" in each moment, without expectation or regret, it is a wonderful, wild, exhilarating ride. The only things you can take to the bank are that it is always changing and it will end."

The featured essays, including mine, are here.

I like to think my brother has a bit of a smile on his face today.

A big thanks to everyone involved.

xoxo,

Robin

I brought you flowers

2008-04-29T22:30:00.003-04:00

I took this tulip pic instead of listening while a nice man in a small gatehouse told the hubby where we were supposed to be for the race. Eh, Hubby figured it out. What's being lost compared to beautiful tulips?

Upward Bound, books, and Father Ted

2008-04-29T09:21:00.003-04:00

The walk turned out to be great fun, though I only had to trudge a mile. The charity, Upward Bound, helps at-risk kids get through high school and into college. Thank goodness the charity wasn't People for an Insect-Based Diet or some such, though I could picture them having a cool t-shirt. The course circled the Notre Dame campus, which was beautiful, but had no Chocolate Café. The Golden Dome looked like it might be made of chocolate, but they wouldn't let me climb up there.

And somehow it all ended with books. We brought friends with us and one of them (a fourteen-year-old) won the women's division. The prize -- Father Ted's book, God, Country, Notre Dame.

Father Ted, who served as president of Notre Dame for 35 years, told us his story, including how the church informed him he'd be studying abroad and that all his classes would be in Latin. Including taking Hebrew, in Latin. While staying at a house where they spoke only French. But hey, what kind of wimp can't learn Latin, French and Hebrew all at the same time while studying philosophy? He had an interesting story, which I hope inspired all the Upward Bound kids, their families, and the miscellaneous participants who were there to score a race t-shirt. Which, incidentally, has a large picture of Father Ted on the front. He inspired me in more ways than one, especially when he told the crowd that the key to a bright future is education. Amen.

He also informed us that despite the dismal sales of most books, his has sold over 700,000 copies.

There you go.

xoxo,

Robin

Top ten really wrong reasons I'm walking in a 5k today:

2008-04-27T12:08:00.004-04:00

1. For the free t-shirt.
2. They won't let me ride a goat.
3. The route goes by the Chocolate Factory.
4. It's better than cleaning the garage.
5. It's time to test the new formula that allows me to go into the sun without turning to dust. Still, I'll be the one in a hat and sunglasses.
6. I'm hoping the Walker's High will be better than it sounds.
7. I'm so looking forward to wowing the kids with my impressive forty minute a mile pace.
8. I might be humiliated but at least a shark won't eat me. Then again, I didn't think they had earthquakes in Indiana, either.
9. My invitation to the Spam-filled pastries cook-off must have been lost in the mail.
10. So I can take pictures of runners' hineys and sell them on Ebay. I'll be seller "BringingUptheRear."

Happy Arbor Day!

2008-04-25T10:29:00.015-04:00

The last two mornings a lovely bird has greeted me on the stairs by flying up and landing on my finger. No, really. If it weren't for that exploding bird scene in Shrek, I would have broken into song.

Yesterday's greeting came after a rough night due to the hubby being on-call. Conveniently, he had the telephone on the "flash grenade" setting, so he'd be easier to wake. I thought a meteor had crashed through our roof. Then in the morning Cheeky dive-bombed, um flittered, delightfully onto my finger, whilst a jealous Tesla, aghast that the perky cockatiel would try to move in on her good morning greeting territory, muzzled and pranced and nudged, trying to set things right again. And no, Cheeky isn't afraid of Tesla at all. That's because we put a tiny blindfold on him during the Why is red stuff leaking out of that rabbit toy? crisis of late. So, all in all, everything's been normal around here.

After our trip to Costa Rica, I saw an article over at GalleyCat called Penguin Loves the Forests, about some very confused penguins. No, it was about how Penguin the publisher has teamed up with the Nature Conservancy to save the rainforest. I had to join.

I mean, what would the world be without trees like this:

Okay, that one scared me, but it is fascinating, isn't it? And those spikes might cure gout. Admit it, you don't know they can't.

Speaking of gout, if you don't want to save the rainforest for the beauty, or for the animals, or you know, for the whole breathing oxygen thing, there is the medicine and the nearly limitless potential for further medical knowledge to consider.

Here's a quick fact:

Experts estimate that we are losing 137 plant, animal and insect species every single day due to rainforest deforestation. That equates to 50,000 species a year. As the rainforest species disappear, so do many possible cures for life-threatening diseases. Currently, 121 prescription drugs sold worldwide come from plant-derived sources. While 25% of Western pharmaceuticals are derived from rainforest ingredients, less that 1% of these tropical trees and plants have been tested by scientists.

Really the solution is to prove and promote that the rainforest is most valuable left standing. When you're there and you see a barren field grazed by a few scraggly cows, and then you see what that field must have been before it was cleared, it becomes sickeningly obvious just how much more valuable it is left standing. People have to make a living, though, and we can't judge. I imagine there used to be a forest where I'm sitting right now. It's a complicated issue that will require creative solutions if we are to continue on this planet. But I have faith that we will step up.

I feel that way because of the people who live there. They taught me how valuable their world is because, really, they know better than anyone. I believe the people who live there don't want to see the rainforest go any more than we do. Corporations, on the other hand -- well, hopefully more and more of them will begin to see how the rainforest is far more valuable left standing.

So, one more cool tree from my picture file. Our guide called it a Kerosene Tree. (No, I don't think he's the guide who insisted I'd stepped on a locust.) When he scraped it I immediately thought of oil painting because it smelled much like turpentine. He rubbed some on our walking sticks and lo and behold, we had torches. Incidentally, it would be hard to catch that tree on fire, because the kerosene-like substance gives it a very slow burn that peters out in the moist forest.

Okay, another last one. The Walking Palm:

"Walks" up to a meter a year, looking for sunlight.

Aren't we all.

Oh, I almost forgot. I wanted to write this post because of an email from the Conservancy reminding me that it's Arbor Day today and that you can adopt an acre on the Osa Peninsula if you want. Then, maybe your grandchildren and their grandchildren can go down there and visit it, and talk about the era when our generation proved that humans deserve to live on this planet. And hopefully they can still have some Coca Light (or, you know, tequila) at this place:

Love the disco ball!

xoxo,

Robin

Cowardice in Costa Rica

2008-04-22T11:32:00.004-04:00

In Costa Rica, our first night in the rainforest ecolodge proved to be most interesting.

The sounds -- katydids, frogs, birds, monkeys, the constant rattle of lizards sifting through leaves for bugs (or for other lizards, as we observed later by way of finding a skink with a gecko tail hanging out of its mouth) -- the sounds definitely required an adjustment.

But there was also the pitch dark. Wonderful for viewing stars (oh, so many stars!), terrifying for walking home from dinner. Or it would have been if we hadn't brought flashlights.

So, on the first night we twitched a bit. Screens for walls, beds draped in mosquito netting, Howler monkeys, a giant spider hanging just outside our side screen -- there was a lot of adjusting to do. The enormous green katydid -- okay, it seemed harmless and kind of cool, so we let it be, even though it was inside the hut. New friends and all that.

Still, we made it back to our bungalow after dinner without any problems. Once there, though, one of us noticed movement on the edge of the palm roof, and decided to spotlight that movement with the flashlight. Things went downhill fast from there.

"Oh, look at the lizard," one daughter said.

"Wait a minute," the other said, "what's that behind it?"

Behind it: as in hanging directly over our heads, obviously poised to pounce down and kill us.

'Twas a scorpion. Not a tiny one, either.

One of said daughters proceeded to ask for the key. Now.

I had bravely backed up, out of the It's Raining Scorpions zone.

Still keyless daughter began to scream. "Why won't someone give me the key? This isn't funny! What's wrong with you people?"

She's not normally one to freak out, so I don't think we were quite catching the drama she was feeling. Not to mention the fact that we were a little distracted by watching the scorpion slip between the screen frame and the roof -- and into our freaking hut.

Then later, right before bed, something crunched beneath my sandal.

Yes, I chanted, "Please let it be a leaf, please let it be a leaf, please let it be a leaf . . ." like, thirty-three times before turning on the meager light, but still it was the katydid. Or the kadydidn't, as it were. I'm starting to think chanting totally doesn't work. Not only was it the katydid (aaargh), it was the enormous, fat, pregnant katydid.

With great sensitivity, Hubby said, "You killed hundreds of babies!"

Okay, in his defense, he was then nice and cleaned it up for me.

Mostly because I would have left it there until the end of time itself, but still.

Yeah, we didn't sleep much that first night.

We'd toughened up a bit by the second night. Maybe that's because we found this guy defending our hut:

Not quite as cool as finding him crunching down on a scorpion, but still pretty awesome.

xoxo,

Robin

edit: thanks, Making Light