|
It’s nice to be back. Just
finished a three-column break brought on by a heavy volume of work at my real
job. The worst was one particular Wednesday when I began at 6 a.m. and didn’t
get home until 5 p.m. ... Friday. Talk about a long day. Did get in one long
nap and a shortie, but was probably a little off my creative best. Not that
that would win a Pulitzer anyway, but I did miss these little musings, as did at
least one reader (Hi, Mom). And what better way to catch up than by emptying
the ol’ junk file ...
*****
Is this really a problem? New
York City’s Department of Health recently issued a roster of animals that may
not be kept as pets within city limits. I’d give small yappy dogs (we own a
Chihuahua mix so I know whereof I speak) and rodents of any description (ditto)
prominent positions, but I guess I’m just a little too California. Honest to
goodness, New York’s list instead includes anacondas, Tasmanian devils,
crocodiles, polar bears, and elephants. So how is a guy supposed to impress a
girl if he can’t give the traditional Valentine’s wildebeest? No wonder the
city needs a pooper scooper law.
*****
Ray Bransky noted
in his “Daddy’s Turn” column that his baseball skills explain why his picture in
the newspaper “consistently appears next to Ann Landers’ instead of somebody
like Ricky Henderson or Barry Bonds.” On that particular day his picture was
directly beside ... mine. My mug accompanied an article on a fundraiser I
participated in, nothing to do with sports. Still, my wife laughed so hard that
I finally had to respectfully request her to knock it the heck off. Besides,
Ann looks like she could throw a pretty mean change-up.
*****
Speaking of that fundraiser, my
list of thank-yous for American Diabetes Association Kiss-A-Pig donations in my
name omitted my good friends Loren and Laurie Freeman of Madera: I correct that
now. Top honors again went to Chico Mayor Steve Bertagna, whose smooch proved a
little rough on last year’s swine, may it rest in peace. As far as I know the
piglet Cassidy is still in good health, but watch this space.
*****
Is this really a problem, Part
2 – A more California-style debate can be found just down the road in Berkeley,
where East Bay park officials have banned non-toilet-trained, diaper-wearing
tots from entering public swimming holes. To begin with I didn’t know there
were any swimming holes in Berkeley. Second, by my observation I doubt that
this is the biggest public potty issue the area has. But we’re talking an
official nuclear-free zone here, and you know how it goes: if they take away our
nukes, can Huggies be far behind?
*****
My youngest nephew spotted an
opossum curled up in the entry to the crawlspace under our house on a recent
visit, a discovery only a 6-year-old would be likely to make. Unable to roust
the critter, my wife called Animal Control only to be told that the thing was
probably just faking us out. She tested the theory with a water hose, which our
guest literally drank up, though it did not depart until the authorities finally
came and got it two days later. Philosophical question: is it “playing possum”
if you really ARE a possum?
*****
Girl-Child just returned from
summer camp, and while the experience featured daily seminars, waterslides, a
ropes course, and cappuccino chillers at the snack bar, it seems that some
things never change: the daily cafeteria food probably wouldn’t be permitted
anywhere near a Berkeley swimming hole. My firstborn survived the week on the
aforementioned chillers, snacks from home, camp-issue cereal sugar bombs, and,
for dinner, croutons with ranch dressing. Let the record show that she did not
learn this at home. Here we know that croutons should always be served with
Roquefort.
© 1997 – 2002 Brent Morrison
|
