Homecoming. Texas Style.

After learning that homecoming is fiasco-ridden marathon last year, Aidan said, "Never again!"  He decided he would spread the word that he was planning on "being out of town."

Then, he liked a girl.

And she liked him back.

So, here we go again, on the homecoming roller coaster ride that only Texans can do.

Last year, the "ASK" involved a small gift.  This year, the tradition seems to have morphed into a memorable event.  Things like many candles lit in the girl's front yard.  A scavenger hunt.  Convincing the teacher to add it as a question to a test.  Surprise is key.  Aidan hatched and discarded many different ideas, all involving varying degrees of props, supporting cast, financing and originality.  His final production involved half-naked men and body paint.

 

Just in case you couldn't tell, lying on your side to see the video, the boys all came out of the locker room of a swim meet and lined up in front of the stands where The Girl was sitting.  Some kind of tribal yell, and then they ripped their shirts off.  They each had a letter of H-O-M-E-C-O-M-I-N-G on their chests, with Aidan as a "?".  Definitely points for originality. Good thing she said "Yes!" with such enthusiasm, being a public event and all.

 

 

 

The next "event" on the agenda is The Ordering of The Mum.  There are all kinds of rules surrounding The Mum and it's best to get professional help.  The Mum Lady does a remarkable job and produces a quality product, no two alike.  Also to be accomplished is The Purchsing Of The Tie so that it will match the date's dress.

 

While all this is going on, the kids (and I suspect, the Mommies) start tossing around ideas for The Schedule of Events for the Saturday night of Homecoming Week.  Appently, "nobody" actually attends the dance anymore.  Each idea is more elaborate than the next, and all involve much carting of kids to and fro by weary parents who have been carting to and fro all week.  This year, somehow, the Saturday Night Events got moved to a town all the way on the other side of the lake.  Somebody wanted to take photos at the Botanical Gardens over there, even though several generous families all offered their very lovely (and local!) yards for this segment of the Festivities.  Also on the evening's agenda is dinner out, bowling, and an after-party at one of the kids homes.  Oy.

 

As we enter the homestretch, the events come fast and furious.  Next up is The Presenting of The Mum, which happens on Thursday, so the girl has the chore pleasure of wearing it all day at school on Friday, after which it gathers dust on her bedroom wall.  Mum Presentation takes place at someone's home and involves several couples.  The girls, all a-twitter, gather in one room, while the boys enter and conceal The Mum in another room.  Parents orbit in the margins of the room with cameras ready.  The boys enter and give The Mums to the girls and there is much "ooooh"ing and "aaaaahhhhhh"ing with exclamations of "It's so pretty!"  Everybody dons their Mums, poses for photos, then removes The Mums for intense examination of all the details.

 

 

 

Oh, the details!

 

THIS is why one hires The Mum Lady.  I sooooo could never pull this off myself.  All the bling, all the braids, all the special tassles, boas, sparkles.  Oy!

 

These are all the special braided ribbons. 

 

Various plastic symbols

 

The mum included a horse head (she rides), a jaguar jewel tassel,

and the teddy bear had a crystal tiara

 

Ribbons with their names, and even a whistle - in case she needs to get someones attention

A feather boa on a silken silver cord, and much artistry with the ribbons



 

There is even candy embedded in the Mum.  And bling.  Lots and lots of bling.

 

 Friday, the school halls and classrooms are filled with Mums.  There are students hiding beneath them somewhere.  One smart teacher made the kids remove them and hang them up on the wall.

 

 

Each Mum seems more absurd than the next.  I'll get off my Mum soap box, but will leave you with one last image, all from our local high school.

 



 

Finally, Saturday arrives, the day everything has been building towards.  Apparently, the girls all start getting ready about 10am.  There are hair appointments, mani-pedi's, and makeup parties. 

 

Since I had been a "conscientious objector" to the complexity and geography of the plans, my only role for the evening was to drop Aidan off at someone else's house where the first leg of the evening was to begin.  The Photo Shoot.  From there, they were taken to a restaurant for dinner, and then moved on to the bowling alley.  After bowling, they returned to Flower Mound to hang out at one boy's home for the "after party."  All transportation provided by parents with more generous spirits than I.

 

I know I'm being kind of snarky about all this.  I will add that Aidan and his very nice date had a great time.  This is an awesome group of kids and as a parent I want to be supportive of them since they ARE so great.  I know they get tired of hearing "Back in the day, we didn't expect all this rigamarole!"  I don't know how or why or when things got so complicated.

 

But, as always, at the end of the day, I am grateful.  Grateful for my healthy kids and that they continue to make good choices, including surrounding themselves with great friends.  Grateful that we are able to provide them the evening they want.  And yes, I am grateful that it's over.

 

Until next year.  When I will experience this again, adding the perspective of my daughter!

 

 



Anatomy of a Mum

It resided in our house for 24 hours, hanging in the entry way in all it's glory.  I almost felt as if I ought to give it a name, it seemed to have taken on a personality all it's own.

Aidan had a sheepish expression on his face when he brought it home, I could tell he finds this a bit absurd too.

First of all, props to the "mum lady" who built the thing.  My renegade opinion and snarky comments are in no way a reflection on the creativity and workmanship that went into this thing.  I consider myself fairly craftie and can readily admit there is no way I would have created such a magnificent specimen.  It has been pronounced "beautiful" by my friend Paula, who loves Mums and is a bazillionth-generation Texan.  Bridget, who has lived more of her life in Texas than California by now, thinks it's pretty too and can't wait to have a Mum of her own.  I only hope that her future dates don't disappoint her.

The Mum weighs in at a whopping four pounds.  That is about as much as one of my chickens.  It has a harness so the young lady can strap it to her torso and have the chore pleasure of wearing it to school today, the game tonight, and the homecoming evening festivities Saturday. 

The Mum has over 40 ribbons attached to it, and what a variety of ribbons!  Varying colors, widths, and embossments.  Sparkly ribbons, jaguar spotted ribbons, ribbons with their names.  Never have I dreamed of such glorious ribbonry.

Apparently, every Mum must also have a braided ribbon, and Mumnifique here (that's her name now), was no exception.  A very complicated braid (which I could never have managed without strangling someone), with sparkly bows attached.

Adorning Mumnifique's ribbons are all kinds of blingy charms that signify occasion and the activities of the couple.  Aidan's date is a volleyball player.  I was surprised that there is swimming bling.

Embedded in the actual chrysyanthemum is a teddy bear.  See the chrysyanthemum there, under the teddy bear?  It's the white petals?  That is the origination of the Mum - an actual mum.  This little teddy bear has a silver lame top and a blue sparkly skirt.  This teddy bear looks angry at being upstaged by the curlicues and stars that surround it.

And all around the teddy bear and the mum are more gee-gaws symbolizing football, bling, and who knows what.

All along, I've been joking that I wanted to make A Mum that had a water feature and a food dispenser.  Well, the "mum lady" beat me half way....  one of the "ribbons" is a tubular structure that is stuffed with Tootsie Rolls.

So, Mumnifique, I will miss you.  More than that, though, I am missing the kidney that has funded your existence, your 48 hours in the spotlight, and living out your days hanging on a bedroom wall gathering dust.

Let the money sucking begin.....

Well, Boy Child started (gulp) high school this year.  My usual philosophy with life changes, transitions, etc. has been to face them head on, embrace them, try not to spend too much time grieving for the past, and view it all as a big adventure.

But then, along comes Homecoming.

I find the absurd a bit hard to embrace.

I must admit that much of the absurdity mostly comes from the comedy that surrounds navigating unfamiliar waters with a Boy Child.  Mostly, the male species aren't totally observant, and they also don't communicate real well.  If it wasn't for the Mommy Network keeping me clued in, I would have no idea about all the processes and rituals surrounding Homecoming.

Talk about putting a lot of stress on people, especially the kids!

So, apparently you just can't ASK a date.  There have to be gifts involved.  Flowers, teddy bears, candy, I don't know really.  We went with the single rose.  Twice.  Forgetting one's cell phone makes it hard to arrange a suitable between-class meeting place and so the rose languished in the backpack.  $5.40.

Another early morning visit to pick up another rose ($5.40 again) and hopefully there will be good news today after school.

Next up are the logistics.....  where to eat, who else to go with, where is the after party, coordinating clothing, coordinating transportation.  For both the Friday game AND the dance Saturday.  It's a money sucking marathon, homecoming.

But here is the most absurd thing.  The dreaded MUM.  You know that quaint fall tradition of wearing a chrysyanthemum corsage to football games?  Well, in Texas, bigger is better, and apparently the lowly mum isn't enough.  It has to be A Mum.  What is A Mum, you ask?  It is a tacky conglomeration of ribbons, sparkles, feathers, charms, mini teddy bears, blinky lights, you name it - if a hot glue gun will hold it on, it can go on A Mum.  The bigger, the better.  Or maybe not.  A freshman Mum shouldn't be too big, but if it's too small, it could be mistaken for a boy's Mum.  Yes, boys wear them too.

Now, hold on to your wallets - the price range of A Mum is anywhere from about $60 to a few hundred dollars.  One mom I know thought she could make A Mum for less....  not so, she actually wound up spending about $20 more on all the ribbons, etc. and didn't have much in the way of leftovers.  Crafty ladies and smart floral shops buy in bulk and crank 'em out during Mum season, but you have to reserve your order early.  Was homecoming this stressful back in the '80s?  I think not.

I know.  It's unbelieveable.  Don't believe me?  Just do a quick search on "Texas homecoming mums" and check out the photos.  I took the liberty of grabbing a few for you to look at - I'm not making this stuff up!  Enjoy!  Meanwhile, I will be selling a kidney to fund homecoming.

Ice Station Zebra

Greetings from Ice Station Zebra.

I am a scientist engaged in the study of global warming (ha!) and it's affect on moderen suburban families.

In this experiment, we will cut a small cluster of families off from civilization by encrusting their roads in ice and creating a hostile environment.  We will monitor the behavior of the trapped subjects.

The suburban offspring began the experiment by spending a lot of time out of doors, attempting to slide down glaciers.  While there were varying degrees of success with this behavior, due to the perpetual cycle of returning to the house for warmth and sustenance, and always forgetting to close the doors, their habitats now look like this:

This phenomenon has caused the suburban housewife to consume alcohol.

Seriously though.  What a mess!  Our roads have been frozen for three days, and it will not get above freezing today either, and then more snow is expected for Friday.  At this rate, with the "snow days" piling up, the kids will be in school doing makeup days until the Fourth of July.

I am about to run out of milk and am contemplating walking to the nearest convenience store just for the novelty of it.  Note to self, call first to make sure they DO have milk.  Rumor has it the grocery stores are running low.  Other than the milk (and I do have powdered), I am glad I have a well-stocked pantry.

The only friends the kids see are those within walking distance, and it is a cold, cold, walk!  Ray goes out daily to break the ice on the pool.  Aidan, obviously, hasn't been able to train at all, so I nag him to spend time on the stationary bike - it's about the only way I can get him away from the TV.

One of the neighborhood mommies kindly invited the rest of the neighborhood mommies over to a chili lunch today.  I am certain there will be wine involved, and so I may not be home until the spring thaw.

How many psychologists does it take to change a light bulb?

Only one, but the light bulb must really want to be changed.

 

Our light bulbs are not so open to psychologic enlightenment.

 

Above our kitchen, we have five niches.  Four contain artwork, one contains a clock.  All have a spot light above them.

 

Twice a year, when it's time to change the clocks, we drag the 20' extension ladder in, and Ray goes up to set the proper time on the clock.

 

This year, we figured we'd replace all five light bulbs as long as he was up there - easy, right?  Um, no.

 

1. Get the wrong light bulbs from the store.
2. Go back and get the right light bulbs.
3. Haul the ladder in, trying hard not to bash it too many times on the walls, or the 120 year old suite of furniture in the breakfast nook.
4. Reconfigure the ladder to the proper positioning for the job.
5. Insert finger in the wrong place at the wrong time as telescoping ladder collapses.
6. Take a first aid break.
7. Painstakingly wrestle ladder into a position that allows access to the recessed lighting.  It is scarily veritcal.
8. Head up with light bulb in hand.
9. Drop the light bulb.
10. Take a cleaning break to deal with shards of glass projected in a 20' radius.
11. Head up with another light bulb.  One down, four to go.
12. Painstakingly wrestle the ladder into the next niche.
13. Discover minor electrical problem too high to reach from ladder.
14. Find a bench that will fit on the ledge and that is high enough, carry it up the ladder.
15. Three trips up and down and out the garage for the proper tools.
16. Insert light bulb.  It does not work.
17. Send light blub back down to be tested in another fixture.
18. Test light bulb in fixture and realize how very dirty the fixture is.
19. More work on the recessed fixture.
20. Send light bulb back up.
21. It works!  Two down, three to go.
22. Painstakingly wrestle the ladder into the next niche.
23. Remove clock to change time.  Decide that it needs cleaning.
24. Clean clock.
25. Decide the batteries should be replaced.
26. Back down to find proper batteries.
27. Adjust time, change bulb.  Three town, two to go.
28. Painstakingly wrestle the ladder into the next niche.
29. Have a lot of trouble getting the ladder in the right position.
30. Bash the wall in the niche a couple of times.
31. Head back out to the garage to find the special paint the niches were painted with.
32. Remove socks and put them on the ladder to avoid this problem in the future.
33. Head back up with light bulb and paint brush.
34. Change bulb, paint niche.  Four down, one to go.
35. Painstakingly wrestle the ladder into the next nook.
36. Realize that since one was broken, we are now out of light bulbs.
37. Take another trip to the store to buy light bulbs.
38. Head back up and change the light bulb.

 

Success!  Illumination!  Cocktails, please!

Time for Change

I am so ready. 

I am so ready to be done packing lunches every day.  To be done spending 3-5 hours every single night driving from one activity to another.  I am so ready to be done studying for Spanish tests. To be done with having my dining room look like a one-room school house.  To be done with flinging together dinner in 15 minutes at 7:45 at night.  I am so ready to be done with signing planners and ICARE sheets every single day. 

I am ready.  Ready for a bit more unstructured time.  Kids in the pool.  I even think I am ready for arising daily at 5:30 for swim practice.  That time slot doesn't conflict with anything, after all.  I am ready for trips to water parks and movies.  Sleepovers in the clubhouse.

Check back with me mid-August.  I'm sure I'll be done with wet towels, 6 meals a day, OPK, the early mornings, the heat.  And be pining away for the structure of the school year.

But for now - I say bring it!

Silver linings

People keep pinging me....  "How's Aidan's room?  Are you done yet?"

Gawd no.

I don't know why I ever think I can get stuff like this done quickly.  It seems something goes wrong at every step, things take longer that I estimate, I don't have as many hours in a day as I think I do.

Paint.  Simple, right?  Sigh.  Two weeks later, I'm done.  It's a big room.  With a very high ceiling.  Trim, paint ceiling, hand paint 1 coat of primer over all the bold colors, roll on primer, roll on color.  With all the wonky angles, 5 windows, 3 doors, ledge, drop ceiling over door, bay window, angled ceiling, etc. It took a lot of cutting by hand.

Silver lining?  I had 2+ gallons left over from doing Ray's office and also used the same color for the common areas of the house.  Turns out it was perfect for Aidan's room too.

New blinds.  No more crappy white plastic, replace with dark wood.  Problems.  Lots of problems.  Fit problems, quality problems, hardware problems, missing parts, jury-rig stuff.  Take stuff back.  Get new parts.  Do the fussy, fiddly work of shortening them.  Curse the mounting system for the valence strips.  Curse it some more.  Loudly.  Daily.

Silver lining?  I want to say the satisfaction of a job well done, but I'm still not done.  Having trouble mounting the valence strips, and even though these will eventually be covered by the top treatments, I want to to be a job well done, dammit.  I hate short cuts.  I guess for now, the silver lining will be that Aidan's room gets much darker than it did before and he will like that a lot.

Oh, I know!  The old blinds will go on "freecycle" instead of into the landfill.  That could count as a silver lining, right?  Something "green" to make up for my questionable paint brush cleaning technique?

Bedding.  Easy, right?  Not so much.  None of the stores I have hit have the "European" size sham stuffer.  Bed skirt.......  Aidan's bed doesn't have a box spring, the mattress is on a board on wood rails.  How to utilize the bed skirt?  Clear out enough space in the room to flip the bed over (me strong like ox!).  Use velcro to painstakingly attach the bedskirt to the bottom of the bed.  Much more time-consuming than the usual bed-skirt installation.  And it is made especially hard as I seem to have broken both thumbnails down to the quick during this project and I have a lot of trouble peeling the backing off.

Silver lining?  Being a "crafty HoMo" (that's HomeMaker, get yer mind outta the gutter), I already had a spool of velcro and did NOT have to venture out on yet another trek for project supplies.

And that's it.  That is all I've gotten done.  Besides replacing all the switch plate covers.

I still have a lot to do.  Somehow turn 2 deerhides and 8 drawer knobs (as yet to be received, check on that), into top treatments for the windows.  Build a desk, but that is Ray's job.  In his "spare" time.  Find seating, find or create artwork, and other wall stuff such as a bulletin board system.

Oh.  And the mural.  Yeah, there's that.  Wall-sized, gorgeous, and supposedly pretty hard to hang.  I'm trying not to let it intimidate me.

Oh.  And the bathroom.  Um, yeah.  Strip wallpaper, texture the walls.  Ugh.

Think I'll be done by 2011?  Thanks for listening.

Never Forget

We will all remember where we were, how we heard the news.

I remember wanting to get away from the TV, so I drove to the blood bank - not yet knowing that there would be no need.

I remember waiting for them to open, along with perhaps a dozen other people.

I remember that we didn't speak to one another. Words were inadequate, thoughts were unutterable.

I remember feeling disbelief. I remember feeling anger. I remember the realization that there is true evil in this world which rarely touches me.

I remember recognizing those feelings in the small group of people around me at the blood bank.

I remember that cars would pull up and someone would hurry out with a bag of orange juice, donuts, etc. and leave them by the blood bank door.

I remember thinking that, despite the evil in the world, there is goodness. There is resolve. There is bravery. There is light.

Never forget. Thank you to all the men and women who work so hard to preserve the light.

Not in MY town!

The other day, we were having lunch at the local Subway. Three teenage boys came in, and while I didn't really pay attention to them, I noticed they didn't order anything - just sat there discussing and making phone calls. Ray, however, DID happen to overhear portions of their calls and became suspicious.

As we were walking out of the shop, a truck pulled up and the three boys came out and conversed with the passenger of the truck through the window. They started handing things back and forth, then the three boys walked away and the truck pulled out. Ray said "Get in the car and call the police!"

We commenced following the truck as it wound it's way through the parking lots of the gym, the grocery store, and the strip mall in between, trying to lose us. They obviously knew we guessed at what they were up to and were trying to lose us. They eventually tired of that game and took it out to the city streets where they went up and down the two main drags and in and out of the adjacent housing developments. All the while with us following them and telling the police their location.

There is no exciting ending to this story. They lost us, and they lost the cops. But we did get their plate number and hope that we put a bit of a scare into them and hurt their business.

These three boys in Subway, buying the drugs, were clean-cut kids. They could be my kids. They could be your kids.

As a neighborhood teenager advised Aidan recently: "Drugs will mess up your life no matter what. Even if you just try them one time."

I don't want drugs in my town. Or my country. I don't want drug dealers in my town or country. They mess up lives. They thrive on getting kids addicted, moving them up from the cheap "starter" drugs to the expensive and more addictive narcotics.

If you ever have any suspicions about drug activity, I hope you will consider it your business and alert the authorities. They may not make the bust that one particular time, but the more information they have, the more successful they will be.

As Ray said, "Not in my town!"

It's what it's here for

If a tree falls in the forest when nobody is there, does it still make a sound?

I used to feel that way about this blog. Well, sometimes I still do.

My reasons for blogging aren't big or important. Mostly it is because I live far from family and old friends and felt it was a little presumptuous to send the constant stream of emails bragging on my kids with all the attendant photos. I figure of anyone wants to know what's up in our life, they can come here to find out and if they don't care, they don't have to keep getting my self-important emails.

I also like to write. Sometimes I wish I actually had something important to say.

It's not that I expect hoards of readers, or anything in the way of spirited discussion.

But, for the longest time, I sort of felt like it was throwing a party where nobody came. I guess I expected more people to post comments or something. I mean, Dooce gets like 900 comments a day on her blog, I usually get ZERO. But, I'm thinking that those 900 comments really translate into, oh, I dunno, maybe a bazillion readers or something, because the last week or two, I've heard a lot of this:

Girl Scout Mommy: "I read your post about evolution, and I thought to myself, 'I have to get to know Pam better!'" Wow- and I was actually worried about offending people with that one!

Baseball Coach: "I hope you don't mind, but I clicked on that 'my blog' link at the bottom of your email. Is it OK that I read that stuff?" Of course! That's why it's there!

Neighbor at a cocktail party: "I must confess, I feel like a voyeur when I read your blog, but I can SO relate to it, your post about Bridget's singing was JUST LIKE what happened with my 20-year old 10 years ago..." Which sparked a lovely discussion from which I learned a lot about how to support Bridget in this potentially new activity which I'd never before considered.

So, to my bazillion anonymous readers out there in the bloggosphere: yes you are allowed to be here, and most importantly thanks for coming. Enjoy!

Deception

One of my favorite books is The Cider House Rules by John Irving. The story illustrates how there are different types of rules, and the difference between the letter of a law and the spirit of a law. Some rules exist more for the benefit of the rule maker, rather than to protect those that must obey the rule. Some rules must be followed implicitly, others have some wiggle room.

I have never been all about The Rules. I excercise good judgement, the golden rule, karma, etc. and have managed to pretty much stay out of trouble most of my life.

I recently came up against one of Those Rules that just makes no sense whatsoever for those that must follow it. The kids and I were at Six Flags riding rollercoasters. This year, they implemented a "no loose articles" rule. This means that that silly bear you won at skeeball, or the $4 souvenier cup, or your little shoulder bag with sunscreen, a water bottle and snacks cannot FOR ANY REASON WHATSOEVER be brought anywhere near a roller coaster. Gone are the little cubby holes you used to stow this stuff in while you were riding the roller coaster. New are the banks of lockers outside every ride, where for ONE DOLLAR, you can stow your loose article each and every time you ride a roller coaster.

I don't think so.

So, I would simply sling my little bag over my shoulder and then put my hoodie on over it and none of the Park Monkies who police the line looking for loose articles were the wiser.

Some of the rides were to scary for Bridget. So, we'd get to the head of the line, and I'd hand her my bag, she would cross the platform to the other side, and wait the 30 seconds that Aidan and I were screaming our heads off, upside down over solid concrete. A pretty good little system.

So.... here we are, blithely heading for yet another roller coaster and I figure Bridget can be the Keeper of the Loose Articles since she isn't riding the ride. She IS, however, waiting in line with us, as I am not leaving my 10-yr old daughter unattended on some park bench in the middle of Six Flags.

The Park Monkey stops us. "Ma'am, you can't take that on the ride" he gestures with his official height-checking stick. I point to Bridget and say "She's not riding this roller coaster, she'll hold it for me." He says, "If she's not riding the ride, she can't be in the line." I don't even have to point out to you, intelligent blog readers, the Very Big Flaw in this Rule.

I say to the kids, "C'mon kids, let's go ride another ride." Aidan immediately freaks, "MOM! I really really really want to ride The Titan!" "Shhhh!" I hiss out of the corner of my mouth "Just follow me and keep quiet!"

We round a corner and I hand him my bag. "Put this on," I say. His mouth drops open as if I've just asked him to be my Mule. Hmmmm.... I guess I just have. He starts arguing, I give him The Look. He shrugs the bag onto his shoulders and I tell him to untie his hoodie from his waist and put it on over the bag and zip it up.

Meanwhile, I don my baseball cap which was in the bag, and take MY hoodie OFF and tie it around my waist. "Ok, we're ready! Let's go ride The Titan!"

Aidan is confused. "But, but, but...." Look," I say. "That kid won't recognize us. You WERE wearing green, now you're in gray. I WAS wearing pink, now I'm in blue. AND I have a hat. We are now a completely different family."

Up to the head of the line we sashay, just like we own the place. "Have a nice ride, Ma'am!" the Park Monkey says.

I think I've just schooled my kids in the art of deception. That's almost as bad as teaching them to lie! How long 'til it comes back to bite me in the butt?

How stoopid is Kellogg's?

You don't even have to be connected to the sport of swimming to know that Michael Phelps lost his Kellogg's contract because he was hanging around with people untrustworthy enough to take a camera phone shot of him having a bong hit.

Apparently, Kellogg's had already produced the Frosted Flakes product. Oh, what to do with case upon case of Frosted Flakes with Mr. Bong Hit's face smiling next to Tony the Tiger?

Altruism prevailed and they donated all of the cereal to the San Francisco Food Bank.

Stupidity prevailed and they left the boxes "as is."

Capitalism prevailed and now those boxes are all over ebay.

Now back to our regularly scheduled programming.

Are you kidding me?

Warning: deviating from boring MommyBlogging. Read at your own risk.

Because I'm writing at my own risk.

I think I'm going to offend a few people here, and I think I may get some surprises at exactly whom.

Besides Lincoln's birthday, today is also Charles Darwin's birthday. In perusing the internet, I came across an article about Mr. Evolution, and it cited a Gallup poll.

Less than 40% of American's believe in evolution.

Are you kidding me? Where did this 60+% go to school? Were you sleeping in science class? What don't you "get" about fossils? Carbon dating? DNA? Spontaneous mutation?

I don't think these views happened in school. The Supreme Court has barred any type of prohibitions against teaching evolution in schools, as well as prohibiting the teaching of creationism. (Don't even get me started on the Texas Board of Education's latest efforts here...)

And here is where I'm gonna start pissing off people I know. I just don't know who yet. Of those who regularly attend church, over 70% don't believe Darwin's theories. Do I have to point out the obvious? I wonder how many of those 70% who don't believe in evolution can also articulate the genesis and history of their own religion? If you delve into the numbers, the education level of the church attendees is pretty much the same as the non-attendees, so you can't assume that only stupid people go to church. Don't make me say the obvious.

Sheeple. Lemmings. Now I'm all riled up at y'all for drinkin' the Kool Aid.