Between the lost goats and the dog that sounds like it needs to be flushed down the toilet, there must be a title around here somewhere.

Here's my boy, getting his yellow belt:

My small camera has a lot of settings: one for portrait, one for snow, one for fireworks. There is no "rotten lighting, through a glass window, constant movement, bright primary colors on every surface" setting though. So that was the best I could do.

I love downtown. I love the light rail, and the graffiti, and the old brick buildings, and the crack heads offering to watch your car for you, and the signs.No sleeping standing in doorway. I love it! Does that mean you can sleep in the doorway if you're sitting down? What if you're slumped against the door sill? Could you sleep all curled up in the doorway lying down?

And I love the lost goats. I mean, right near the center of the fourth biggest city in the United States, people lose goats.And I love that even when we're late for the airport, my man turns right around and does a U-Turn if he sees a sign about lost goats. So that's what makes him the perfect man for me. That, of course and the fact that he enjoys songs about chickens...and whiskey.

My Sweet Pea found this book in the bargain bin of a close out store:I just can't IMAGINE why it didn't sell. I mean, I don't know what kind of euphemisms are popular in your area, but around here caca and poopoo are pretty much the same thing.

On that appetizing note I leave you with this Thanksgiving cartoon, which I've used before, but I still like:Hope everyone had a nice Thanksgiving and ate a lot of big dead bird!

Taking photos while driving: possibly a more socially acceptable hobby than defending meth heads. I must have a good hobby around here somewhere...

When I started this blog, those two nice teenagers who you can see in the sidebar were a little younger than this:They've more or less grown up blogged. And so that must be why now, when My Boy accidentally knocks a shelf out of the refrigerator, my Sweet Pea's instinct is to run for the camera:
And what I end up hearing is that he knocked a shelf out, "but don't worry! I got pictures!" Far be it from her to leave spilled salsa undocumented - that's my girl!!

I was met with these wasps in the bathroom the other morning:It's a far cry from the rose petals I found last time, I tell 'ya!

I wish I could have gotten a better photo while I was driving, but here's a bunch of birds:
I don't just need a photography class, I need a photography-while-driving class. In fact, if Leisure Learning doesn't offer it, I might just have to start teaching it as an after school enrichment class.

Except, my preschoolers can't drive. But that's okay. Maybe my Sweet Pea can drum up some business for me at her high school. There are probably just oodles of teens all clamoring to learn to photograph spilled salsa while driving. I think.

In any case, that's about all I've got this week - it's been another busy one! Here's to a Happy Thanksgiving to everyone just in case I don't manage a Thanksgiving post!

I Just Don't Want to See Meth Heads Getting a Bad Name

Last night I argued on the side meth heads in my master's class. I don't know why, since I don't even know any meth heads. The-Guy is probably right, and my compassion is probably misplaced. Plus, I don't think the professor truly appreciated it. So if you know any meth heads who happen to be outstanding, stellar parents, could you please let me know? 'Cause it might help my grade.

Almost a full decade later, I am now updating this post. It's not that I feel sorry for meth heads. I don't even know any meth heads. This is from the comments section and the real reason I found myself inexplicably defending imaginary meth heads during my Master's class:

"I think that's what really bothers me, so maybe it's something different than empathy - when people speak about addicts as if they weren't even human and didn't have feelings, as if they were not real people, dealing with real pain and real problems." - Me in the comment section of this selfsame blog post.

And now back to the post as it was originally posted, pictures and all:

Here's a sad sight. My Boy at the radio station. The DJ asked him to help out. There's a band playing in the lobby; you can see them through the doorway. What's he doing? Playing a video game on my ipod.

Oh well. What can you do? (I mean, besides drag him to volunteer at a radio station every now and again and hope it takes)Here's a mom and son having a little picknick tailgating thing. I didn't capture it well, but I like a lot of contradiction...like the fact that this sweet scene with the pretty sunset is happening in a Walmart parking lot.Here's my good for nothing cat. I think it's still called multitasking if one of the activities is a nap, isn't it?
Here's my Sweet Pea feeding that very same cat a dinner roll:I have these things. They got lousy reviews on Walgreens.com (where I happened to get the picture). I think they work pretty well compared to other wax strips. Sort of a strange name though:The-Guy and I had a conversation something like this last night:

Him: I'm going to lay down, but keep on doing your homework.
Me: Oh, I'm not doing any more homework.
Him: I thought you were defending meth heads.
Me: Oh yeah, I am defending meth heads. But that's it. I'm not doing any more homework after that.

We went to a wedding reception at a Mormon church in which the couple's car was decorated entirely in penises in the mistaken belief that the bride wanted it done that way. Unfortunately I didn't get a picture.

But other than that, it's been a thankfully uneventful week. Just working myself silly on homework, baking dinner rolls, defending meth heads, admiring a bride's would-be-penis-mobile...that kind of thing. Hope everyone else has had a good one too!

I don't really know much about politics, but I do know that the result of that Yemen bomb thing is that teachers don't get to the bathroom as much

It's true. One of the lesser publicized results of that Yemen bomb thing has been to grant teachers less access to the bathroom. I won't go into details (because far be it from me to compromise security in any way) but doesn't it just illustrate how totally unpredictable this world can be? At least, I imagine the bomb's main intention was not to restrict bathroom access for teachers.

This week I sent out a kajillion and seven bar mitzvah invitations with the wrong time on them. If you got one, services are at 7:00 and not at 8:00. If you didn't get one, just thank your lucky stars I don't have your address.

On to Halloween...

My Boy wanted to be a trash can, but The-Guy-Who-Knows-A-Song-About-A-Chicken talked him out of it. They made a pretty good outhouse costume before My Boy lost interest. Then he wanted to be Facebook, but we ran out of time. After all that, he ended up as Scooby:My Sweet Pea and her friends made all their own costumes from actual fabric and beads and stuff! They went this incredibly PC route:Younger Gal said it's okay, since she's part Native American. Older Gal told us that this is called, "Hipster Racism." That totally took me by surprise, because I didn't think that 15 year olds qualified for "hipster" status. I guess she's just mature for her age.

My friend and her son done good too, don't you think? It was even more realistic in person (if you can call a zombie realistic):