There Ought to be a Law

In California, where I live, you need permission from the government to do almost everything.  To drive a car, you need a license.  To ride a motorcycle, you need a different license.  Your car and your motorcycle each need a third and fourth license of their own.  You need permission to open a business.  If that business sells food, you need another license.  If  it sells liquor, you need license.  If it allows dancing, you guessed it, you need a license.  You can even smoke marijuana legally if you have the right license.

At this point, you may think I am on some political rant about how big government has insinuated itself into the minutia of our lives.  But, no.  This is about Halloween candy.

You should need a license to buy Halloween candy.  And I don't mean the mail-in-or-pay-online kind that you need to become a certified navel piercer.  I mean the kind you need to carry a concealed firearm.

There should be a back ground check, complete with blood work, an assessment of need, and a psychological questionnaire, at least, if not a full profile.  Is the applicant diabetic?  How much trick-or-treat traffic can reasonably be expected on the applicants street, based on historical trends and census data (adjusted for the fact that Day Light Savings Time now ends after Halloween).  Has the applicant ever consumed twenty mini Recess Peanut Butter Cups in one sitting, or more than fifty in a twenty-four hour period?

These are questions we, as a society, should ask before we let people walk into Target and buy seventeen pounds of candy a full six days before Halloween.

That brings me to the last step in the application process.  A waiting period.  Successful applicants would be required to wait until noon on October 31 before making any licensed purchases.

You see, this, like seat belt laws and cigarette taxes, will allow the government to protect us from ourselves.  And, set a really good price for the seventeen sixteen and a half pounds of black market candy hidden in the back of my closet.

Give me a good reason...

I took this picture on Monday.

They were gone by Wednesday.

Give me a good reason why I should not send my children to live on a banana plantation.

We used all of these bowls in one day.

Give me a good reason why I should not pull a heist at the nearest Correlle plant.

Catie got into the permanent markers.  Again.

Give me a good reason why I shouldn't lock her in the garage with the periodic table and some solvents until she invents Sharpie Remover, safe for...

...white boards...

...furniture...

...and, laminate floors.

Go ahead.  One.  Good.  Reason.

Nothing New Under the Sun?

Our grand-children may never know what either one was for.

I read  a short story* in high school, set in the not too distant future, where over-population was such a problem, society had resorted to intentional and organized mass disaster.  Every year, on the appointed day, the government would cause an oil refinery fire, collapse a busy bridge, etc. as a form of population control.  Eventually, these disasters became a national spectator sport.  Like the Olympics of Death.

For weeks up to the event, people would talk and speculate about what they thought would happen this time.  And how they themselves would be safe.  But, boy watching from a distance would be fun.  The year in which our story is set, was no different.  Everyone gathered around to watch.  Imagine Monday Night Football in a bar.  Or a royal wedding, or an inauguration.  Everyone, watching, waiting, anticipating...  Then all of the televisions exploded.


Do you have an iPod in your pocket, an iPhone in your purse, an iPad in front of you?


As most of you know, Steve Jobs, the founder of Apple and the creator of all things i, died last week.  Most of you know, because most of you cared, at least a little.  And not in a fellow-human sort of way, but because Steve Jobs had in impact on your life.

By contrast, someday, Bill Gates will die.  He will be remembered as a genius and a great philanthropist.  But no one will care the way they care about Steve Jobs.  And, why not?  Bill Gates has touched as many of our lives as Steve Jobs has.  Probably more.  Anyone reading this has used a Microsoft product.  But no one has ever said they love their Microsoft Word.  There is something about the i line of products that has wooed us.  Infiltrated our daily lives.  Made us happy.  In little tiny increments, like a successful level of Angry Birds.  And, we keep coming back for more.  Because it makes us happy.  In little tiny increments.  And, we keep coming back.  Because it makes us happy.

Bill Gates and Microsoft were sued for anti-trust violations.  All Bill Gates wanted to do was corner the market.  Steve Jobs, I've often joked, wanted to take over the world.  And an argument can be made that he did.

My mother was born before television.  When I found that out, it blew my six-year-old mind.  She might as well have told me there was a time without cars, or electricity, or running water.  That's how much Steve Jobs changed the world.  I can't wait to regale my children and grand-children with tales of the pre-i world.  Well, okay, the old iMac was just marketing, in sorority girl colors.  But, the iPod and iPhone were true innovations. 

And if anyone ever figures out a way to blow them all up, we are in big trouble.  Just sayin'.


[*I can not remember the name of this story.  I thought it was written by woman named Ute Hagen, but the only one of those I am able to find was an actor and wrote about acting.  There could, of course, have been another Ute Hagen, but since she can not be found on internet, she no longer exists.

UPDATE: The story is Emergency Society by Uta Frith and it is in this anthology.]

Cook It If You Got It.

In honor of National Clean Out Your Fridge Week, I did just that.  Well, sort of.  I examined the contents of my refrigerator, and considered the possibilities.  That is how I came to serve what can only be called Bacon-Tilapia Noodle Casserole for lunch.  I also grated my thumb (which really hurts) and am sporting a Lightening McQueen band-air, for my trouble.  But, the kids ate it.  And I am comforted by the knowledge that my future daughters-in-law will thank me for setting the bar so low.

[Editor's Note:  According to the internet, which is never wrong, National Clean Out Your Fridge Day is November 15, or the third Wednesday in November.  I may have been misled.  But the deed is done.]

I Want to Hear All About Your Trip!

Okay, so no one has actually said that to me.  No one really wants to hear ALL about anything.  (Unless it is how to get rich and thin without effort or moderation, in which case they will stay up way past their bedtimes watching obnoxious infomercials on tv.)  But several people have asked quick questions, here and there, as our busy paths have crossed near enough to hear the sound of each others' voices.  Is the apostrophe in the right place there?  Other's, others'?  I am rusty at this, can you tell.  I can barely type anymore, let alone proof read for grammar (with two Ms--thank you Blogger spell check).

My home for ten days -- Planet Cruise Ship

Just yesterday Hubband, who heretofore would like to be known as Fabio, who sees all and knows nothing, but that is a story for another time.  Just yesterday Fabio asked, "When are you going to tell me about your trip?"  I have not told anybody about my trip.  Well, I was pretty vocal about my ill treatment at the Quebec City airport, but that happened on the way home.  Two weeks ago.

Yes, I have been home two weeks.  I have not talked about my trip.  I have not written for my blog.  Why?  Because when a homeschooling housewife with three little kids goes away for ten days, she must hit the ground running upon her return.  Like anyone who leaves a job behind, the work does not stop (or get done) while you are away.  So, two weeks ago, I rushed back into my daily life, refreshed and happy to be home.  Two weeks, and I am just about caught up.  Just about.  Hubba...er...Fabio was fabulous.  (Fabio-lous?  Ew.  Okay, I won't do that again)  He really was.  But there are things that only I can do.

Like blog.

Am I back?  Yes.  Am I back to blogging?  All I can say is, maybe.  Do you want to hear all about my trip?



My apologies to all my fellow bloggers for neglecting them.  My thanks to Jen at Sunshine SAHM for standing vigil, eager to bear her responsibilities in the event of my untimely end (in a brawl with a skinny blonde French speaking airline employee at the Quebec City airport).  And extra special double hot fudge thanks to Hub...Fabio for making it all possible.


Hope to be back soon.  Really.