Wednesday, November 17, 2010


I'm a little behind on a lot of things.  One of them is my blog.  Another of them is probably your blog.

Sorry about that.

I did find time to create a slide from the pictures I took on Halloween night. (There were supposed to have been sound effects. Don't know where they went.)

We had fun. Handed out candy, took pictures and ordered pizza. I like Halloween. No one asks anything of me but some candy. All the entertainment is provided by others.

One of my most fave things about my 'hood is the kids on Halloween. Generally, I'm not a big fan of kids but I do like them on Halloween.

I really like Halloween.

Thursday, November 11, 2010


At work today, someone brought the following video clip to my attention. And yes, it was completely work-related (I’m fortunate enough to have a job where I get to watch video clips all day).

Go ahead, watch. I’ll wait.

I don’t think I’ve ever laughed harder at a video clip in my life, and I’ve seen a lot of funny video clips. The kids are completely bummed at this turn of events and the clueless mom is completely bummed at the kids’ refusal to grant her the expression of joy and appreciation that she had so anticipated. Everyone goes from happy and excited to miserable and angry.

Sooooo . . . . . why do I love this clip? Am I just a hateful, bitter codger happy to see others unhappy? Maybe. But I think I like it because it’s so painfully honest.

No matter what you do for your children, no matter how much you try to give them a life that you imagine will make them happy, they are bound to disappoint you. They will NEVER give you the satisfying reaction that you crave. They can never live up to your expectations. It's unfair of you to believe that they will.

From the child’s point of view, your parents will never understand you. They will never know who you are or what you want. They will never know how to give you what you need because they live in a different world and they just don’t get it. You want something from them. You know you want something from them and you always hope that they’ll know exactly what it is. But they don’t. They can’t. They can only see what they want you to want.

Or maybe not. Maybe that’s just me, and those poor kids who just wanted to go to Dick’s house.