Who’d a thunk it?

Am-I-Dumb.com - Are you dumb?

Oh - I also scored 100% on the mental_floss quizzes three times this week. And as my late father would have said, “That and 50 cents will get you a cup of coffee.” (Bear in mind that my father died in 1993 and had been saying that all my life. Addjusting for inflation, let’s make it $4.95.

Via Happy Catholic.

More from the Beatles White (Spackle) Album:
Hello, GoodBye
I don't know why you say goodbye
I say hello
Where have the remodelers gone?
Bathroom painting is stalled.
Fran’s at work. Walking through the plaster chunks to take a low intensity shower is becoming a tad tedious.

Why, why, why, why, why, why
Do you say good bye
Goodbye, bye, bye, bye, bye
Oh, no
You say goodbye and I say hello

Oh, hello...I called home and Em answered. She's sanding. We're making progress

Mad Men
Like I needed another TV temptation on Thursday nites. Good thing for the Pilates bands – I can try to make use of the time. And stave off DVT.

I didn’t think it would be that fascinating, but it is. The reality of the whole thing is overwhelming. Being of the last living generation who may remember physicians who smoked while in the exam room, the déjà vu is overwhelming. Even the colors – some of the décor looks like it was modeled on my Barbie Dream house. The original dream house…the fold-up, one room studio apartment made out of cardboard. It’s all so…real. The smoking makes me want to get up and open a window.

Just for You, Em!
The 7 Sexiest Librarians of All Time And you’re not on it. Trust me – when you read it you won’t be disappointed.(“Man, what a sexy, sexy list! I mean, if you’re into balding male intellectuals, politicians, poets and, well, dictators.”)
Please don't shush me!

For the record...
I am appalled by all this NFL/dog fighting news. I don’t quite understand all of it, but how much do I need to know?

I have difficulty understanding a human desire to watch animals fight each other to the death. Human fighting is puzzling, too, but I just don’t come from a family that was big on pugilism.

Now that I have made that disclaimer, I must admit that every time I hear the news about the dogfights I am reminded of a favorite moment from pitifully short-lived Arrested Development. Anybody remember Boyfights? In reality it would be horrible. As a sitcom device it is hilarious.
He also believed footage of the tussles would be a big hit in the burgeoning home video market. He soon franchised the concept with such titles as: Boyfights: A Day In the Life of American Boys” “plus Baby Buster in I Don’t Want To Go To Bed.”; “Boys Will Be Boys” “Boyfights 2” “plus Baby Buster in Too Old To Breastfeed”; “A Boyfights Cookout” “featuring: Run For Your Life!” “plus baby buster in A Fifth Grader Wets His Bed”; and “Backseat Boyfights: The Trip To Uncle Jack’s 70th” “plus Crybaby Buster in I Don’t Want To Be On This Tape!”

Or maybe I’m just thinking of another way to supplement our income. Outside of whacking each other over the head with noodles there are not any noteworthy boyfights. But a family with four girls (including Irish twins) is treasury of Girlfights!
Girlfights
Girlfights 2 - She Started It
Baby Bridget in I Don’t Want to go to School
Backseat Girlfights: No, Were Not There Yet
Baby Bridget is Too Old...

nevermind.

Shabbey Road
I spoke unguardedly about the panic attack I had in the shower early Sunday morning. The panic that attacked me when I realized that if my sister and her family were coming to our house for the #&*!@ Pirate Party^(tm) that they would eventually need to bathe. That means the peeling paint and mildew in the bathroom need to be addressed. Eventually.

I can’t say the girls are all talk and little action. Fran and Martha started scraping, sanding, spackling. The phrase that comes to mind is “hammer and tongs.” And the bathroom is so overdue for help that a hammer and tongs might reasonably be useful.

Now I’m curled up on my bed while the Beatles blare and the dust floats by. Each song is just perfect...like an iTunes essentials compilation: Beatles Bath Bash.
I’m Looking Through You
Fixing a Hole
You Never Give me Your Money (Home Depot remix)
She Came in Through the Bathroom Window.

Oh, Lord, please don’t let them attempt to create a bathroom window.

On, Wisconsin
Archbishop to say Mass to honor Solanus Casey
“Archbishop Timothy M. Dolan will preside at a community Mass honoring the late Father Solanus Casey - a Capuchin friar from Wisconsin whose supporters hope he will become the first native-born male saint in the United States - at 4 p.m. July 28. The liturgy will be held in Milwaukee's St. Francis of Assisi Church, 1927 N. 4th St., where Casey was ordained in 1904.”
I am fascinated by Solanus Casey. And a little disturbed. A Venerable Wisconsinite shifts the onus of personal sanctity back to the rest of us. Oh, saints aren’t only from foreign places in long ago times.
Of course, we could also apply the “second bomb on the airplane” rule. You know, what are the chances of two saintly folks from Wisconsin? Tell me it wouldn’t be easier if the spiritual life worked that way.

We, thy loyal sons and daughters,
Hail thee, good and great.
On, Wisconsin! On, Wisconsin!
Champion of the right,
"Forward", our motto
God will give thee might!"

It’s a Good Thing!

Nothing makes my day like scoring 100% on a quiz of five vaguely related questions.
It is a good thing.
Today’s mental_floss also has an amusing article about Five Ball Park Promotions that went Wrong.
Who can forget Disco Demolition Nite? But I never heard of All-you-can-eat seats: (“Undoing the work of Shaq and Cookie Monster, the Dodgers decided to promote obesity by opening up a section of all-you-can-eat seats. Although beer, ice cream and candy are still for sale, most food is just given away. Ticket prices range from $20-$40.)

In the maybe-not-a good thing department, Chuck’s new issue of Wired sits on the table, still hermetically sealed in plastic. Chuck may be the demographic least likely to be enticed by a picture of Martha Stewart.

Good Morning Dog Play Facilitators...
other slackers and all the ships on Lake Michigan.
Just wanted to let you know that I am here.

Eureka!
OK, Fran and anyone else (that probably means you, Bridget!) I think I know why I haven’t been blogging as much. I’ve been sleeping much better. And a lot of my best blogging has been done early in the morning, which lately is the time when I do my best sleeping.

I think of blog things at work, too. But I don’t always have time to act on them. You know, I do try to work. You would think summer would be slow, but there is plenty to keep me busy. Always something, plus a little something extra. Like the woman who emailed me that she wanted to be unbaptised because it had been done against her will when she was a child and religion is the cause of most of the suffering in the world and would I take care of this matter and also, if I could be so kind, would I please make a certificate of unbaptism and removal from the Church, suitable for framing. And send it to her. In Europe. That kind of thing.

When the sunbeams hit my face this morning, I woke up, said my morning offering and decided, I feel exceedingly well and I should go back to sleep until the alarm goes off.

I would have thought today would have been a blog day, owing to my low tolerance of alcoholic beverages and Bridget’s kind offer of the lovely shots of Corazon tequila last evening. Yes, the first shot was to be cordial and supportive of Bridget’s job. How could she promote a product that her own mother wouldn’t touch, right? How was I to know that that would be the best (not that I’m a connoiseur) tequila that I would ever have? Bridget explained it all to me, what makes it superior, how it differs from the Tequila Corazón de Agave Añejo and the other Corazon that I can’t remember. For someone who was starting to sound somewhat pixilated she was able to recite an impressive amount of information.(And I thought she was just an expert in Jagermeister and its 56 herbs etc. Studying for that test - good fun.) Most of which went over my head, except for the fact that she doesn’t like to say Anejo while working because it can be misunderstood for an obscenity. That I cannot help with, having dropped out of my first year of college Spanish because the instructor said I just couldn’t pronounce the words right. (I could give Anejo a try - it doesn’t involve rolling any Rs)

The second and third shot were just to be sociable. And ward off scurvy with the lime. (Or is it rickets?) By this time I was appreciative of the “very tempting, mellow and elegant agave flavor surrounded by a hint of cardomom and smokiness, subtle straw-like notes,
moderate body with earthy and mineral components, soft and creamy on the tongue with a silky texture and light nutty tones.”

Then I scuttled off to bed. (I can be foolish, but I’m not stupid) Stopping along the way to put another load of wash in the dryer, hang up the wash I brought upstairs and edify myself by looking up tequila in The Bad Catholic's Guide To Wine, Whiskey, And Song.
Expecting to wake up early with pvc’s and a throbbing head and just maybe something to blog about. But I didn’t.

Corazón de Agave Blanco is imported by Sidney Frank Importing Co. New Rochelle, NY
Always drink responsibly.
Store bottle out of mother’s reach.

Speaking of Simon Baron-Cohen...
and I was, really, just a couple of months ago, trust me, I don’t forget these things. Bill of Summa Minnutiae posted a link to an at-home home/do-it-yourself Asperger’s quiz. For entertainment only. Baron-Cohen, who knows whatof he speaks, was one of the designers of this quiz - which means it’s not just voodoo.

I scored a 28, which is not exactly what some might call ‘good.’ It could have been worse, but I’m good at multi-tasking and I can be rather social* if all the planets are in the proper alignment and I’m having a good year. Looks like I’ll have to stop blaming the paterfamilias for all of the neurological quirks around here. This might be a fun quiz for the next family get-together. I also, fortunately, have an unAsperger’s-like gift for reading other people’s reactions. That means I’ll know when the test is no longer ‘fun.’

(I’m borderline enough that I know when it creeps people out that I remember their phone number, address etc. when they’ve only told me once. So at work, I usually ask even when I don’t need to. Just so they don’t think I’m some kind of crazy stalker.)

And, no, I haven’t seen Borat yet.

* (My family is hosting a pirate themed party over Labor Day week-end. I hope my sociability is on an upswing... It was at a peak when I consented to the party. And offered the pirate theme idea.)

A loyal reader writes...
"Um.....also you need to update your blog. Write more about us....just kidding ...but it does give us something to do at work."
Um...aren't you supposed to be working?
I'll work on it...I do have some charming stories.

And while you're voting...
McMurray Hatcheries asks your support for their participation in a special 150th Dirty Jobs show episode. Please check #23. Chick Sexer.
And if you're at work now and not enjoying your job, you may want to peruse the whole list and find comfort in knowing that you don't have such a bad job after all.

The Harry Tompson Center is committed to providing a calm and caring environment in which to serve the needs of the poor and homeless in the downtown New Orleans area.
And you can help. Just vote early and often. (OK, once a day, per computer, until midnight Friday, July 13.) The winning organization will receive a $50,000 grant from Burger King.

Local Woman Cleans Room – Finds Stonehenge
Bridget cleaned her room yesterday and found a Christmas gift that she had intended for a friend. Instead of saving it for this year (which is what I would have done) she gave it to the first available family member. Who gave it to me out of the goodness of her heart.

Despite the Spinal Tap references, I do think this will be a fun little project for the boys. And I do mean little. A reviewer on Amazon was disappointed because of the size (“Pay close attention to the Product Dimensions: 3.2 x 3 x 1.3 inches. It's very small, with TINY pieces.”) I can’t imagine what he was expecting.

I wouldn’t have wagered…
figuratively and literally – on 7/7/07. I’m not second guessing the Holy Father, but a date that appeals to brides, gamblers, bookies, etc? OK, it does have a “certain symmetry.”

Vanitas…
But I’ll enjoy it while it lasts…
First, Mom gets a letter published in, “you know, one of those magazines that we never heard of.” (August/ September issue!) This morning a woman comes in to my office, sees Em’s wedding picture and says, “That’s why you look familiar; your sister used to work at the Lake Bluff library.” So…I look sort of youngish and somebody pays a bit of attention to what I say. I’ll enjoy it while it lasts…

"Mr. Rogers spent years telling little creeps that he liked them just the way they were. He should have been telling them there was a lot of room for improvement. ... Nice as he was, and as good as his intentions may have been, he did a disservice."
Yes kids, and don’t forget you are unique...just like everyone else.

Wouldn't it be cool...
if Google maps worked like a magical travel machine?
Or maybe not. I was trying to zoom in on Embot's address in the city and managed to "land" us in Missouri, somewhere outside of St. Louis. As Fran said, "time to ease up on the mouse, Mom, and try not to zoom out so far."

Precisely.

Home may be where the heart is but it’s no place to spend Wednesday afternoon.

I have been enjoying nibbling my way (by very uneven fits and starts) through Walker Percy’s Lost In the Cosmos. Though I had not necessarily expected to find help in The Last Self-Help Book, I have found much to recommend.

Which leads me to the conundrum of my ‘seventh-day malaise.’ For several months, maybe longer, I find myself every Saturday battling a funky fatigue. My doctor assures me there is nothing wrong with me beyond those afflictions which nag at me the other six good days of the week. My sleep hygiene may not be pristine, but it is also not so erratic as to make me need to sleep in huge chunks of time similar to the eating habits of a snake. But sleep is all I am motivated to do, ending the day by going to bed as early as possible so as to end the day and be fairly fresh for 7:30am Mass on Sunday morning, at which time the malaise has lifted and I am the usual me. Until the next Saturday.

When I must be away during the week - and for me a five hour work day has the makings of a large dose of ‘working mother guilt’ - I long for the comfort of home. But the first day of the week-end arrives and a cloud descends. Certain adjustments help, but don’t cure. If I can grab the Jeep for a few hours, there is always morning Mass, coffee with a friend etc. but then I am drawn home by my own longing. Only to find the lure of the couch, bed or comfy chair irresistible and another Saturday shot.

Yesterday turned out to be a mini-Saturday. Then I was back at work at 8:30 this morning feeling fine. I still feel fine, so I don’t think there is anything particularly toxic in my home. And those who spend more time here than I do are not slowly fading away. (Honestly, in the winter months I was wondering if the furnace was given off toxic fumes. You know, funes that affect me but not the other six or seven people, dogs and other living things.)

Re: Chapter 14 - Reentry problems of the Transcending Self...
The quiz at the end of the chapter (“checking those avenues of reentry which you find peculiarly, even compulsively attractive.”) is unnerving. But may hold some clues.

Life is good. I have nothing of monumental substance to kvetch about. But this week has been brutal. Like the evil opposite of a month with three pay days, this has been a week with two ‘Mondays,’ two ‘Fridays’ and, we can suppose, two ‘Saturdays.’