I Wonder as I Wander

A few musings from the past couple of days:

• The Final Four is coming town. For us locals, this means the circle has been closed down, traffic is a mess, there has been a sudden influx of RVs, and, of course, all the good stuff that comes with March Madness. This is Indiana, after all.
• To fill the void left by Santino and Project Runway, I've succumbed to Bravo's newest reality venture, Top Chef. Who knew chefs were such temperamental a-holes? Stephen is about the most pretentious person I've ever seen...it's almost to the level of surely he's doing it as a joke because a person like that couldn't really exist, right? The boy needs a little perspective and a whole of growing up.
• I'm currently on an expectation high about my upcoming weekend....Friday night I've got killer seats to the John Mellencamp concert and Saturday and Sunday I'll be in Chicago having good times and IKEA visits with Friend Becca (who is a super smarty and will soon be attending Harvard Business School--go Bec!).
• And, lastly, I watched Memoirs of a Geisha this week. I have a sudden urge to move to Japan and buy a little house with sliding doors. I do not, however, have a sudden urge to become a geisha. That pretty much sucks.

Cat in the Hat

There is a mouse in my house.
And lest you think it's cute, this ain't no minnie mouse.
How can this be? How can this be?
I'm so upset, I might climb a tree.

A wocket in my pocket would be so much better
than a rodent that makes me feel like Hester and her scarlett letter.
My place is clean, there isn't a spot!
But I won't rest until this mouse is caught.

It's now been three days since the invasion.
And I know now that I am of the chicken persuasion.
For, you see, I've had to evacuate my room.
And sleep upstairs, lest there be impending doom.

I could not bear it, no, not at all.
If upon my covers a mouse did crawl.
And so, until the beast is caught.
I'm afraid my fear is all I've got.

Little Round Top

Good afternoon, readers. I am back from my trip to our nation's capitol. Some highlights:

• During our trip to Gettysburg, going into a timewarp as we entered the visitor's center, circa 1963. The culmination of the "retro" decor had to be The Electric Map. It is just that--a very very very large map with little lightbulbs all over it. You sit in an auditorium surrounding The Map, listen to a recording that may have been done by Edward R. Murrow, and watch as the little lights light up according to the army movements. All for the bargain price of $4.
• Gettysburg itself was fabulous. Who knew it was so big? It took us a good three hours to make the trip around the park and we weren't even diligent about reading plaques and monuments or counting cannons.
• Oh, and did I mention that there were renactors everywhere? There is something delicious about sitting down to lunch and watching a man in full Yankee garb munch on a club sandwich. This was only topped by a t-shirt in the shop next door that proudly proclaimed "I am Period Correct."
• My trip to the National Gallery of Art was wonderful, as usual. This trip there was a Dada exhibit which made me want to live in Sweden in 1943. And, I got to say Dada a lot.
• The conference itself was God-awful. However, it was made somewhat better by the fact that I got upgraded to a suite and had a kick-ass hotel room with a pillow-top mattress.

Now it is back to the regular grind. Sniff.

Four Score and Seven Years Ago

I'm getting ready to leave for Washington, DC for a conference. This means spending the day clearing the desk, composing the perfect out of the office reply, and, perhaps most importantly, researching tours of Gettysburg.

For you see, my conference doesn't begin until Monday night, but I am flying out early to visit Friends Abbey and Jon, who are fellow history nerds and enjoy taking trips to places like Pennsylvania. If you have a friend like that, hold on tight to them....it'll be hard to find another. Last visit, we took a drive into the heart of colonial America and spent a wonderful two days in Williamsburg. We've decided to jump forward a century and visit the battlefield where Lincoln once tread. And, it means that I can check another state off the list...only 20 more to go.

The battlefield visit is sure to be sandwiched in between shopping, eating, and a fun road trip, so really, the weekend sounds just about perfect. Almost makes the following two days of listening to federal compliance guidelines bearable. Almost.

PS. Happy St. Patty's Day, readers. May the road rise up to meet you, etc, etc, etc.

Nothin' Says Funny Like Being Tried for Genocide

Sometimes I think political leaders are just crazy. I know, you are shocked. But consider these gems:

That crazy Prime Minister or President or whatever in Italy who claims to be more popular than Jesus Christ. Oh, and he just happens to own all of the media outlets, so they are putting journalism aside and investing in some quality propaganda. And, our own Veep, who shot the man standing next to him in the face "on accident." Yeah, I do that all the time.

In a shout out to his counterparts around the world, Saddam Hussein (who is "Insane in the Membrane") has joined with dillusional leaders throughout history during his latest day in court. First, he repeatedly told the judge that he was the Iraqi head of state. Not was the Iraqi head of state. Is. Now, I'm generally your Pollyanna optimist, but even I would probably throw in the towel after spending years in spider holes and international prisons. However, if he is trying to make the case for flat-out insane to the point of inspiring pity, he may be getting close. It's like Liza Manelli trying to tell America what a supastar she is. Sad and patently untrue.

Finally, in another brilliant statement, Saddam declared the whole trial a "comedy." Yeah, it's a real stitch. I loved the part about mass genocide. It's almost like that crazy comedy, the Holocaust. Although, I'm sure Saddam is like those other nutcases who have decided in true revisionist fashion that the murdering of millions of Jews during WWII never happened.

Now, generally, I'm pretty practical about our politicians...surely there as many crazy ones as there are sane. However, I think that Saddam may have tipped the world leader balance on this one.

An excerpt from my soap opera, er, job

Dear Steve,

FYI, it is not acceptable to use passive-aggressive techniques in your emails. I would really appreciate it from now on if you would change your tone. After all, we have to work together:)

In the future, it would be wise not to forward emails containing personal attacks to my boss. Although, I'm sure that was just an error! :) :)

Thanks for all your hard work!

XOXOXO
May or May Not's Co-worker

Hoosier Hysteria

My little brother and I are having a brother-sister bonding weekend. As he is 14 and this weekend is also his birthday weekend, I have endeavored to be a good older sister and do things that he will enjoy.

This includes watching 8 hours of high school basketball in one day.

This morning, we rose and shone in order to get tickets and a good seat for the regional 4A basketball games. These games because, A. that's the region we live in B. the second game featured Lawrence North's Greg Oden who is supposed to be the next Lebron James (and at 7 1/2 feet tall, I would guess there's not much guesswork involved), and C. it was at Hinkle Fieldhouse, the only true place to see high school and college basketball (and I'm not even a Butler alum).

So, off we went, ready to cheer for any and every team (aren't we benevolent?). I must say, I am more of a football fan than basketball, but there really is something wonderful of walking into a gym with the sun shining in, fans with painted faces and the mysterious pull of the underdog. While I don't think I need to dedicate a Saturday to high school basketball again anytime soon, I do feel a strange hankering to watch Hoosiers and sigh about the good ole' days...before the brackets.

Common Phrases That Don't Actually Make Sense

• Heart of hearts.
• Son of a gun.
• Nonetheless.
• Well I'll be.
• Flying by the seat of your pants.
• Pushing the envelope.
• Hunky dory.
• Passed with flying colors.
• Dead as a door nail.

And the winner is...

Well, I'm sure that you all tuned into the Superbowl of Entertainment last night...the 78th annual Academy Awards. If you did not, some highlights not to be missed (and surely can be found on countless entertainment websites or a good ol' Google):

• God Bless America, there was falling. Or at least near falling. Jennifer Garner, unable to retain her balance due to her baby-feeding mammaries stumbled, then over-corrected on her way to the podium. We had to watch it in slow motion to catch all of the magical moments. The realization of the stumble, the horror on the face and the flailing.
• Michelle Williams is being called a fashion diva. That is a lie. She was wearing a tangerine colored dress and too much red lipstick. I hate to say it as I still have some Dawson's loyalty, but she looked a bit Courtney Love.
• Reese Witherspoon and her cute hubbie were, as always, fabulous and flawless.
• Cut to Phillip Seymour Hoffman (who I think looks a bit pervy, but my friend Katy thinks is cute) who continued to say awful statements like, "Yeah, I figured I would win. I've won all the others, you know." Not to mention he apparently couldn't be bothered to shave.
• And the little engine that could, Crash, pulled the big one out over (as Jon Steward pointed out wonderfully) the not-so-new gay cowboy movie. While I have not seen Brokeback, I can't imagine it is better than Crash which alternately makes you want to cover your ears and eyes, cry and awkwardly laugh all at the same time.

All in all, a lovely evening. Especially since there were martinis involved. Despite the fact that I was feeling a little ill, I forgot it all for about four hours.

The only low note: if only Dolly would have won. I know, I know, it's historical and revolutionary that Three 6 Mafia won, but come on. Dolly doesn't have too many good years left and surely she deserves a little golden statue to put on the bookcase in Pigeon Forge.

The Golden Statue

I am currently in full Clarissa Dalloway mode. I'm having an Oscar party soiree this evening, complete with cosmos, prizes and an assortment of dips, chips, salads and other goodies. So, the house must be cleaned, the food prepped and, most importantly, I must pick my Oscar predictions.

You see, reading the Academy's mind is my own Special Talent. For the past five years, I've swept the competition at these annual parties and walked away with all the glory. Next to Deloitte & Touche, my accuracy is unmatched.

Will it be Brokeback's big year? Will Reese walk the line on up to the podium? Will Crash crash and burn? I have much to deliberate.

Happy Oscars, readers.

On his soapbox. Oh, wait, he's just short.

Their Man Mitch seems to be, uh, shall we say, "vertically challenged." Thanks to the good folks at www.takingdownwords.com. I shamelessly stole this from their site.