What we leave behind

When I first heard about Anna Nicole, I didn’t believe it. Then I read the story on google news. She had become a laughingstock in recent years, the butt of a thousand jokes. But when I read she had died, I was only sad.

I sent the link to a friend. She wrote back, “Have no idea why that makes me sad.”

I replied, “Me too. What a sad, tragic, short, wasted life :(“

Then almost before I hit send, I questioned my statement. Was it a wasted life? After all, she was a model, an actress, had her own reality show, and married a billionaire. I haven’t come close to doing any of those things. Maybe she had the full life, and I’m the one with the wasted life.

If I never become a writer, will my life have been wasted? If I never have children, or never get married?

What constitutes a wasted life? Or for that matter, what constitutes a wasted day? Or a wasted hour? I can’t answer that. I guess everyone’s answer would be different. And perhaps that’s the way it should be.

Is it about finding happiness and contentment? Experiencing as many new and fun things as possible? Or making a difference, making the world a better place? Even typing that, I already know what I think most important. So why am I not doing it?

If I sit home tonight and cook dinner and watch The Office on TV, is that a wasted night? I mean, it’s something I enjoy. But should I be doing something more productive? Something to better myself or something beneficial to society?

Traveling Chica wrote a post a few weeks ago about ‘someday.’ About how we make plans and always seem to think and behave as if we have plenty of time, when in reality, we may not. We’re not guaranteed a certain number of years, or even another month, or week. All we have is today.

Yet knowing that, why don’t I value each second as the priceless commodity it is? Why do I often go weeks or months without talking to or seeing friends? Why do I find myself so many nights realizing it’s 11:00 and wondering where the evening went and what I did with it?

The question isn’t will I die? But rather, will I live?

I was talking to another friend about Anna Nicole later in the afternoon. She posed the question, “Do you think she was ever happy?”

Of course, there’s no way I could ever know the answer to that. But even the thought that she, or anyone, might never have been happy deeply saddened me. To the point that I changed the subject, not wanting to think about it anymore.

When I die, I don’t care so much if other people say or think, “what a wasted life.” As long as I don’t agree.

“They said she died easy of a broken heart disease. I listened thru the cemetery trees…”

3WW #22

Welcome to Three Word Wednesday.

Each week, I will post three (or more) random words. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to write something using all of those words. It can be a few lines, a story, a poem, anything. This is a writing exercise. It doesn’t have to be perfect. The idea is to let your mind wander and write what it will. I’ll also attempt to write something using the same three words.

Be sure to leave a comment if you participate.

This week’s words are:
Drum
Secrecy
Ante

From his seat atop the wooden stool, Carter Conway had a clear view across the street of his closest competitor and biggest rival. Lacey McCrary had been outside three times in the last twenty minutes, talking to her brother Evan. Smiling. Giggling. Something was going on over there. But what? Carter hated the secrecy.

But he couldn’t worry about it now. It was early afternoon and sales had been extremely slow today. All week, actually. The summer sun forcing his eyes into a permanent squint, Carter tried to think of ways to drum up some business.

This was July, usually his busiest month. But not this year. Not with Evan putting in across the street. And that stupid Hawaiian Shaved Ice stand going up three streets over. Didn’t anyone drink plain, refreshing, delicious lemonade anymore?

Maybe he was getting too old for the grind. Besides, there was probably some enterprising eight-year-old on the block ready to take over. Or maybe this street just wasn’t big enough to support two lemonade stands. But then what would he do? He’d have to go back to delivering papers. He let out a long sigh. Being eleven shouldn’t be this hard.

Carter’s train of thought was broken when a door opened across the street. Lacey came out of the house again. This time she was carrying something in her arms. What was she carrying?

Carter watched intently as Evan got up and started writing something on his sign. When he was done, Carter could hardly believe his eyes. On the sign, just beneath the words “Lemonade 25 Cents,” Evan had written: “Free Cookies.”

That did it! Evan was upping the ante. Well, two can play at this game. Carter ran towards his house. With visions of Nestle Toll House cookies in his head, he burst through the front door calling, “Mom!”

“Let’s call in sick, leave this town. Don’t matter where we go, let’s just go now.
I’m thirsty for a glass of lemonade…”

24 Recap: 2/5/07

I have three words for you: 24 is back!

OK, so actually I guess that’s two words and a number. Or one hyphenated word and two regular words. Nevertheless, recapping last night’s episode, also known as Day Six: 12:00-1:00 PM…

Jack and Jack’s father are led at gunpoint out to a poorly landscaped area by two of Graem’s men, where they are apparently about to be forced to pour concrete or something. Jack’s father refuses and turns around, distracting both men. Long story short, Jack and Jack’s father get their guns and each kills one of Graem’s men. (Is it just me or did that happen a bit too easily, even for Jack Bauer?)

Back at the hotel lobby that is the Presidential bunker, Wayne Palmer is watching news coverage of the nuclear explosion. With Karen now out of the way, Tom continues pressuring the President to sign an executive order that authorizing his radical security measures. Palmer tells Tom to convene the cabinet.

McCarthy is on the phone with Fayed again. (I swear, he’s gotta be in Fayed’s Five.) And says that he’s found someone who can program the triggers for the other nukes, but that said programmer will have to be coerced. CTU intercepts the call and Morris tries to decode an image of the programmer that McCarthy sent to Fayed. A message comes in that Morris’ brother has been exposed to radiation and is in critical condition. He starts to leave, but Chloe talks him into staying and finishing decoding the image.

Walid is in a bed somewhere, recovering from the beating he took at Detainee Central. Sandra is by his side. (Argh, I thought we’d make it thru an ep without her.) She calls Palmer and tells him she’s scared. He goes all Shawn Mullins on her and says, “Everything is gonna be alright.”

CTU agents raids Graem’s house. Jack and Graem face off, each with a gun pointing at each other. Graem finally surrenders, even though I think his gun may have been bigger. Jack then tells some nameless CTU agent, “Set up the interrogation package.” (There’s five words you never want to hear.)

Graem is injected with something that makes him scream really loud and sweat profusely. Finally, he confesses to authorizing the assassination on David Palmer, as well as having Tony and Michelle killed (back on Day 5). He says he did it for his country, then tells Jack that the two of them are the same. In a rage, Jack pushes Graem over backward in his chair, tells the CTU agent to run the injection level higher, and points a gun at Graem’s head. Then Jack sees Jack’s father and suddenly stops.

With the cabinet convened, we get our first glimpse of Vice President Noah Daniels. At least the first glimpse that I remember. He is on a plane and listens in by speakerphone as Palmer once again rejects Tom’s radical proposal. The Vice President tries to argue, but Palmer stops him, saying, “The discussion on this matter, is over!”

Back at CTU, Morris has the image decoding and gets up to leave before it’s done. After he leaves, everyone is shocked to see that the image that eventually comes up on his screen is… Morris! It’s a set up! They call Morris, but he’s already on the highway. As he is trying to turn around, someone fires shots at his car. He is kidnapped by McCarthy and the blonde, who we now know as Rita.

After Jack boards a helicopter to CTU, Jack’s father asks for a moment alone with Graem. We learn that he’s been in on the whole thing! They are convinced they’ve fooled Jack into thinking Jack’s father is innocent. But apparently, that isn’t enough. Jack’s father turns the IV back up, then covers Graem’s mouth. Graem struggles for a few seconds, then his body goes limp.

Best line
Jack to Graem: “We are not the same!”

Other best line
Jack’s father to Graem: “You’ve done everything I asked. Only this time, I asked too much.”

The good
The Jack/Graem interrogation, of course.

The Morris twist!

Jack struggling with the whole ‘doing the right thing/this is my family’ quandary.

Palmer standing up to Tom, Tom’s sidekick, the Vice President, and apparently most everyone else.

Finding out Jack’s father is involved in everything and then him turning on Graem at the end.

The bad
Sandra Palmer’s “Oh Walid, I was so worried about you” routine. Barf.

Still just a bunch of random nameless faces in the field for CTU. We need a Tony. Or at least, a Curtis.

Still not much Chloe.

Did you know…
8cc’s of hyocine-pentothal can cause a heart attack. 9cc’s can cause you to act like Paula Abdul.

Questions
Will Morris program the triggers for the nukes? Will he die? And if so, will Chloe ever recover?

Does Marilyn (Graem’s wife) know more than she’s letting on?

Karen resigns, and no one replaces her?

I miss…
Tony. Why’d they have to go and mention his name? Sigh.

“Even her smile looks like a frown. And she’s seen her share of devils in this angel town…”

Obligatory Super Bowl recap

Well, that sure was… the last game of the year.

What more could one say about a Super Bowl which featured eight turnovers and was often about as exciting as watching grass grow? I mean, there were a couple of exchanges where the players seemed to be playing hot potato with the football. Which would actually have been more entertaining.

And what can I say about Rex Grossman that some Chicago fan hasn’t already said, and probably much more colorfully than I ever could? There was one time where, on consecutive plays, he tripped over his own feet and then fumbled a snap. Seriously, he was like a one-man Bad News Bears out there at times. I almost started to feel sorry for the guy by the end.

And is it just me, or is the Super Bowl starting to become more of a human interest story than a football game? Last year, we had Jerome Bettis winning his final game. This year, it’s Manning and Dungy finally winning the big one after trying for years. And I could have sworn I kept hearing Katie Couric’s voice over and over and over.

Normally, when the game itself is kind of blah, you can always count on the halftime show commercials to provide some entertainment. But not this year. I mean, when one of the best ads involves K-Fed, you know it’s a bad year for Super Bowl commercials.

Although personally, I was intrigued to see the Izod and Van Heusen commercials. Is Izod back in?!?! And if so, how did I miss that? What’s next, Jordache? From there, we’re standing at the top of Acid-Washed Hill, looking down over Tight-Roll Valley. I’ve been there my friends, and that’s one slippery slope.

And I love Prince. But is the Super Bowl halftime show ever any good? And is it really necessary to hire hundreds of people every year to jump up and down and wave their arms in the air? I mean, is anyone sitting there watching thinking, this halftime show kinda sucks, but all those people are jumping and yelling, so it must be good.

Thankfully, Animal Planet was running Puppy Bowl III Sunday, which I found surprisingly hard to turn away from. It featured Bowl Cam, a camera located in the bottom of a clear water bowl, as well as a kitty halftime show. And a lone referee occasionally throwing flags and calling penalties on the puppies. It was engrossing.

After the game, someone was flipping channels and wound up on the Fuse network. Now I don’t get this channel on my cable. So imagine my surprise when I saw Jodie Sweetin in a tight-fitting, revealing referee jersey that she was wearing as a dress. She is the host of Pants-Off Dance-Off, which basically amounted to a PG-13 rated striptease competition.

Wow. Pin a rose on your… uh, nevermind.

“I never meant to cause you any sorrow. I never meant to cause you any pain. I only wanted to one time see you laughing…”

Do you hear what I hear

Please stop by and welcome Pia home, and read about her adventures south of the border. Apparently, while she was in Mexico being mistaken for a puta, I unwittingly missed Thank Your Mentor Day. And actually, the entire National Mentoring Month. Oops. Who knew?

Oh, and Happy Groundhog Day. My Groundhog Day post last year got some very interesting responses.

For Christmas this year, Dad put a key finder in my stocking. My sister got one too. The key finder attaches to your keychain and when you whistle, it is supposed to emit a series of beeps, allowing you to locate your keys.

After testing it out a few times, I found it was erratic, at best. It wouldn’t work half the time when I whistled directly into it. Other times, it would go off at random. So I tossed it into a bag with a few other stocking stuffers, which I’m not overly proud to say is still sitting in my living room floor. And the key finder was forgotten. Until last Thursday night.

My sister and brother-in-law were over for supper and we began to hear a beeping noise. I’d heard it a few times before, but was never able to figure out what it was. My brother-in-law knew right off. It was the key finder! I immediately ran to the Christmas bag and found it.

Friday morning as I was getting ready for work, I placed the key finder in my pocket. Having just watched The Office the day before, I had an idea.

Now the object of my office pranks is most often the secretary. She’s in her forties, and looks like someone who would wear lots of sweatshirts with bears and stuff painted on them, even though she doesn’t. And she’s always a good sport.

When I got to work, I scouted her office for a suitable place for the key finder. Some place she’d be sure to hear it, but unlikely to find it. First I tried pushing up one of the ceiling tiles and leaving it in the ceiling. I whistled, but could barely hear it. No good. Then, I saw it–the tissue box! Perfect. I dropped the key finder in the tissue box and got ready for the fun to ensue.

As soon as she arrived, I walked thru and began whistling to the radio. Then listened. I heard the key finder. It was working. Although she didn’t seem to notice it.

Oh, but she would.

The fun began shortly after 10 AM. She walked in with furrowed brow and asked, “Am I going crazy, or do you hear beeping noises?” She seemed to be alluding to the radio.

“Beeping noises? In the radio?” I replied, as if she may very well have lost her mind.

“Yes! It seems like almost everytime a new song starts, I hear a beeping.”

“I haven’t noticed. But I’ll start listening closer.”

About forty-five minutes later, I walked out to her office. Before I could say a word, she spoke.

“I figured it out!” she said, as if she’s Bell and I’m Watson, and she’d just discovered the missing piece to make her invention work. “It’s not in the radio. It’s coming from my phone!”

I had her. Hook, line, and sinker. I began to smile, but she continued.

“Everytime my phone rings, it beeps. Here!” she said as she pulled out her cell phone. This was going even better than I had hoped. She dialed the work number. The phone rang. The key finder beeped.

“There! You hear it?”

I’d regained my poker face by this time. I squinted and leaned in as if trying to listen closely.

“Ummm, no,” I lied.

“You don’t hear that?!” she exclaimed, before letting out a sound that sounds a bit like a puppy whimpering. “You probably think I’m losing my mind.”

At that time, I decided that I’d gotten my money’s worth out of this joke. And while she’d been talking, I’d been reaching into the tissue box. As she had no idea what’s going on, she simply thought I was getting a tissue. I finally retrieved the key finder and tossed it on her desk.

She looked at it, realized what is going on, and jumped out of her chair, all within about a second and a half. I took off running and she chased after me. She later told me the beeping noises made her think her phone might be tapped.

I guess the key finder worked after all.

There’s nothing like seeing a carefully planned prank coming together perfectly. Although now I must await her revenge. I’ve been half-expecting a live snake to drop from the ceiling at any time. I must be vigilant!

Oh, and lest you think she doesn’t deserve it, don’t forget this.

Have a great weekend and Super Bowl Sunday! And remember, if your name was Punxsutawney, you’d stay in a hole most of the time, too.

“If you ever get annoyed, look at me I’m self-employed. I love to work at nothing all day…”

One man’s dusting is another man’s blizzard

Well, I’m on new Blogger now. Not by choice. I was forced to switch over, or never post on my blog again.

While attempting to sign in today, I was rather rudely informed that I would no longer be able to sign in using my old Blogger account. Apparently they have all the kinks worked out of the new Blogger. (Pause for laughter.) And now they are requiring everyone to switch over.

Nevermind that new Blogger is not able to be imported to WordPress. Or that it seems to have even more issues than old Blogger. Or that after I switched, several of my comments are now showing up as anonymous.

This must be what it feels like to live under a totalitarian regime.

Blogger: The North Korea of the Blogosphere. (Copyright 1999-2007, Google.)

It snowed!

Here!

Last night!

Sure, it was in the forecast. But it’s been in the forecast before. To wit, one of the local weathermen has predicted snow three times in the last week. This despite the fact I don’t think it has snowed here three times in the past five years.

Shortly after midnight, I looked out the window to see if it was doing anything yet. And it was! Snow was falling. Like beautiful flakes of crystalized ice come down from heaven. I put on jeans, an old sweatshirt, socks and shoes, and ran downstairs and outside, knowing it might not last long.

Have I mentioned how much I love snow before? Well, perhaps here. And maybe here. And I suppose this might have given some clue. But if you didn’t already know, I love the snow! It’s beautiful and inspiring, exhilarating and peaceful, all at once.

I tried to take some pictures. Taking pictures of the snow at night is not the easiest thing. Not to mention the weird feeling that came with using the flash at 1:00 in the morning. This is about the best one I got:

The snow was a long-awaited, wonderful treat. It fell for about an hour, covering the rooftops and most of the cars. I stayed up until after 1:30 watching it, until it changed over to sleet.

This morning when I woke up, the sleet had changed to rain. And the snow was all but gone. I felt like Moses on Mount Nebo. As if I’d been given a glimpse of the promised land, but never got a chance to play in it.

Still, having seen it’s majestic beauty, I can now die in peace.

“If I lay here, if I just lay here, would you lie with me and just forget the world…”