…On your door! Won’t you answer? She’s friendly. See her early efforts here and here and here. Somebody take the unclaimed stuff!

Anyway, the elephant is big, she’s white, and she made it to sporksforall.

For your consideration today, I offer a trio of pet themed frames. I love all four of our pets and have pictures of them in my office. Full disclosure: I only have pictures of Halo and Biscuit in my office. Scout feels slighted, I’m sure, especially given his legal troubles. Calif couldn’t be reached for comment. Anyway, well-meaning people see my animal pictures, especially my rather large one of the late Red dog. These folks know I love my pets. And what self-respecting pet-owner companion to animals would not want desire heart with all her soul animal-themed frames?

Animal-themed frames almost inevitably feature paws. I like paws as a theme. We have a paw-themed door mat that I like. For some reason, though, I can’t get my head around paw-themed frames.

Herewith, therefore, on offer…

Paw frames.

We have two of dog and one of cat. One of the dog ones and the cat one are a matched set, though I suppose I should mention, should you have regifting on your brain, only the cat frame includes a box. Cats are like that.

If you don’t have a pug or a somewhat power-hungry looking white cat, never fear, these function as regular frames and the sample pictures above can be replaced with your own pictures of your own pets!

The most extraordinary of the trio is the “Doggie” frame. What’s not to like about a bejeweled frame? Despite the jewels (or perhaps because of them?!), the effect is what can only be called “classy.”

Nice, huh?

Now, I’m sure some of you are speciesist in your households. Cats but no dogs, dogs but no cats. I will consider splitting the frames up on that basis and that basis alone. Let me be clear, though…if you take one dog frame, you get both. If you want one dog and one cat, you have to take all three.

As with the fugly clock, feel free to insult these and not claim them. Someone, however, should feel moved to take them. Think how paw-rific your house/apartment can be!

The rules for white elephant are simple…claim the frames and I’ll send them to you. All that’s asked in return is that you offer something up on your blog (or Teresa can host it for you, should you be blog free) and be willing to ship it off to whosoever requests it. Full rules can be found here!

Paws paws paws paws, paws paws paws paws…

It’s cool today in the valley. And it smells fresh. There’s no smog layer and a wind is blowing through the well-maintained palms out my window. Palms must be maintained.

As lovely as it all is, the palms dance on a wind of dark tidings. Earlier today I rode my bike down to the other end of campus and got bike grease on my green pants.

It seemed a bad sign. I got it off with dish soap. That’s my weese-esque tip…bike grease is no match for Dawn. Still.

When I smell the wind or see glimpses of what it means, certain characters appear in my mind’s eye. They aren’t letters. They aren’t most punctuation marks. They drift in and out of my sight.

Wouldn’t it be better, I think, if it were a dark and stormy night.

Best to ride away. Far away.

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I’m thinking of a new career writing melodrama.
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Or not.

My uber-boss when I greeted him by his formal title and asked how he was, replied that he was scrumptious. I told him I was glad he had achieved scrumptiousness. If this all sounds like he and I both failed the same sexual harassment training my staff is in the process of learning techniques from, it wasn’t like that.

It got me thinking about how playing with language can take on certain tones, both intentional and unintentional.

Ann Richards, who died yesterday, was a master of tone. She, in my opinion at least, is the Texas Governor who should have been in the White House. The great thing about Richards was that she said what she thought and didn’t apologize for being an ambitious woman. She once said, “Let me tell you, sisters, seeing dried egg on a plate in the morning is a lot dirtier than anything I’ve had to deal with in politics.”

Probably her most famous quote was about George H. W. Bush, the current president’s father. “Poor George, he can’t help it. He was born with a silver foot in his mouth.” Whatever fake sympathy I can work up for H.W. dissipates, of course, when I think about his son.

I got an e-mail from American Express just now that said, “WE’VE GOT TICKETS FOR A NEW DAY… FEATURING CELINE DION ON HOLD FOR YOU!” (caps in the original). That might seem like a promise to some, it seems like a threat to me.

And that’s just it, of course, it’s all about tone. Ann Richards was a master of tone and uber-boss and I hit the right tone today. Where tone often breaks down is in writing and on the internet. I’m all in favor of technology. And I love using the internet. But sometimes I wonder, when I stare at the little black pixels that make up words if we’re losing our ability to discern tone. I sold some shoes on ebay to a guy in France. He kept asking me about another item I had sold which he had not won. He then sought lots of reassurance that the shoes I had sold him were men’s shoes. It got irritating. Then after he paid, he said, “nice to meet yu!” And I realized that I was just probably over-reading. Like I could convey what I wanted to say about shoes to some guy in France in French.

Anyway, no profound end here. Just a wish for a scrumptious day. If you want my Celine Dion tickets, let me know. They’re ON HOLD!

Since yesterday, I’ve been thinking about warning signs. So, I’d like to offer a short cautionary tale with visual aids.

Once, there was a duck:

Who lived with a guy who looked like this:

The duck and the guy went on a trip to the ocean. Where they met the guy’s friend, the squid.

It is true that the squid was a little clingy. But that was only to protect from the flying rocks in the area. They were safe on the beach, you see.

So, the squid, duck and guy hung out on the beach.

The duck and the squid really hit it off. It was true love at first sight. The guy had inter-species love issues. He started talking about what was “natural.” The duck and squid swam off to be by themselves.

Then the wind shifted.

And the sea rose. This wasn’t a problem for the duck or the squid. But, our friend, guy, was in trouble. As you can clearly see.

In fact, things got so bad, that there was an anti-people stance taken by the ocean. It erected a sign.

Duck and squid tried to save him anyway. But he wouldn’t take their help.

The water rose and the guy swam and swam until he entered a mineshaft. He grabbed some nearby equipment. It turned out to be a bad move.

First his hand was crushed.

Then, trying to free himself, his other hand was, well, worse.

(Ok, I know they’re both left hands. I can’t help it, that’s what the signs look like and my photoshop skills aren’t up to thumb rearrangement. So a little suspension of disbelief, if you please.)

The waters receded just in time, and our guy lay on the floor of the mineshaft, bleeding and exhausted. Just as he was gathering his strength to try to get up and venture down the one tunnel that wasn’t flooded and get himself some help, he noticed the most horrifying sign of all.

So, rather than take that tunnel, he just lay there. They say he was never heard from again.

And the duck and the squid? They swam off to look for new adventures and lived happily ever after, or so I’m told. They live in a land where duck/squid marriage was celebrated. They adopted some homeless baby squirrels, live in a lovely ranch home and raise orchids.

The moral of the story? Pay attention to warning signs and don’t judge who others love.

I’m at home today because last night I felt like the man in the picture. It was weird. It also wasn’t quite that violent or dramatic. Mostly because I was in my bed. And there was no actual electricity involved. I’m thinking it was a mild fever.

Today, I’ve felt ok when I’m really still. A little sore/achy, but ok. I feel like I’m just on the edge of feeling really bad. Like this car:

Or at least like this car a few seconds before the sketch artist started his or her sketch. It would actually be pretty funny if road and warning signs were actually sketched. Like true crime or live journalism or something.

Here’s another sign. It’s unrelated to the theme of this blog entry. But I liked it because it seems to be suggesting road cleavage. And who can resist road cleavage? Not me.

Daytime t.v. is boring.

Biscuit whimpers in her sleep.

The internet isn’t updated often enough (at least not the parts I go to).

The woot-off is too slow.

And now, my friends, it’s time for a nap.

I, despite what some who know me think, am not a hard person. In fact, I very much want to make everyone happy. And please them.

I hired a faculty member who I later decided was not so much on the preferred (culturally speaking) side of the sanity line in the sand. And while I know sand shifts and with it the winds of crazy and while I like crazy of a certain type, delusions are not so much my cup of tea.

Some years ago I was teaching a class on gender at night. It’s one of those classes here at Commuter State that fills without trouble. Women liked to take it. And like many commuter states, we have a larger percentage of women in our students body than men. Anyway, because the class was at night, I had office hours at night. When it was dark. And a woman came to see me to tell me she wanted to drop the class. The reason she said she needed to drop the class was that she was unable to sleep at night. I didn’t ask why. She told me anyway. She said that despite repeated attempts to rid her house of them, the invisible bugs were eating her alive. She had had the house tented five times. She was suing three exterminator companies. But none of them could find the invisible bugs.

“They’re coming for you, too,” she said glancing at me sideways. “the only way to protect yourself is to sleep in the car. They can’t get through the door seals. Sleep in your car, if you know what’s good for you.”

I don’t remember how I extracted myself from that conversation. I do remember glancing out into the dark hall and wondering what I would, should things get more odd. I still sleep in my bed, despite (because of?) her warning. For all I know they’re still coming for me, those bugs. I’ll keep you updated.

Back to today… there had been talk from the faculty member about audiences with the King of Kenya. About AIDS “babies” who were actually teenagers from Denmark who were being adopted, perhaps on the way to or from Kenya.

I was worried for our students. Today a neat solution presented itself. And I was able to “bump” the person in question. It was the right decision.

And yet, I felt bad. Pit of the stomach bad. Even though 25 students would have suffered. And complained. And maybe filed grievances.

It was the right decision. Still, I can’t help but wonder, are the bugs going to come for me now? The King of Kenya could have some sway.

Not in South Carolina, but in meetings, today…

My old PC got taken away and replaced by a Mac. A glorious Mac.

When I started this job a little more than two years ago, they didn’t think to ask me what kind of computer I wanted. They just ordered me a Dell. And I’m not a dude. I whined about it some. People felt bad.

In anticipation of my getting the job, our lovely college CFO (that’s not her title, but that’s what she does), ordered me a new Mac. Our college technical services department got it some time ago. At first they told me late July. Then August. Whatever.

They insisted on delivering the monitor. It’s been taunting me from across the office. Actually, when the monitor arrived, I was alarmed and called the CFO.

Me: “It’s huge!”

Her: “It’s the middle sized one. Hold on… They come in 20, 23 and 32 inches. I didn’t think you needed 32 inches.”

Indeed, I did not. 32 inches would loom. 23 inches is huge, but I’m thinking of it is my big, friendly Mac face. Hi!

Mine’s in the middle.

Now, if they could just manage to get my e-mail out of the PC and onto the Mac, I’d be happy. That and I’ll need Firefox. And to adjust my mouse for the hugeness of the thing. But these things are mere trifles (the e-mail isn’t actually, but no matter).

I may name it. I do know that my office is the better for it. A little bit of Apple joy will perk a Tuesday right up.

What brought you joy today?

Worst (ding) president (ding) ever (ding) hit 29% approval today. Cheney is at 18%

I’d like to talk about HUD. The HUD Secretary, Alphonso Jackson, told a story to a group of minority business owners that a contractor who was on the HUD approved list had not gotten a contract for political reasons. I’ll let the idiocy speak for itself:

“He didn’t get the contract. Why should I reward someone who doesn’t like the president, so they can use funds to try to campaign against the president? Logic says they don’t get the contract. That’s the way I believe.”

Later on he said the story was “anecdotal.” In case you haven’t looked that up lately, here’s the definition:

“A short account of an interesting or humorous incident.”

Umm Hmm. Let’s see, it doesn’t sound funny. So maybe he meant it was interesting.

It is interesting because it’s a violation of federal law. But by “anecdotal” he says he meant fictional. Like maybe he meant to say it was apocryphal:

“Erroneous; fictitious”

At any rate, whether it was true or not (I guessing that it was), he’s telling people that breaking federal law is ok. Oh and Worst (ding) president (ding) ever (ding)is standing behind him.

Take this thing, the NSA thing, oh I just can’t go on. Impeaching and convicting is too nice for Worst (ding) president (ding) ever (ding). Can we banish him? Is that a consitutional option? Didn’t Aaron Burr get threatened with banishment?

There was that novel about a guy without a passport who had to stay at sea. I’ll buy the dinghy. Anyone want to chip in? He can wait for the apocalypse in international waters. We’ll get lots of them, set them all afloat. Or we could send them to the Lost island. I’d gladly give up watching the show if they could all go there and live in one of the bunkers or get eaten by the polar bears.

Honey and I are going to Las Vegas this weekend. If the apocalypse is nigh, then Nevada is the state to be in.

It seems to me that reading my blog is probably worth the effort I put into reading others’ blogs. That is to say, I scan them, decide if I think the person is funny, provacative, or worthwhile in some other way. But, make no mistake, it’s all about the scan (or the skim if you prefer). No deep reading for me. I had a friend once, a rabid comic fan, who claimed that he judged a comic book by how quickly he could read it. Thousands of dollars a year the man spent, and he judged the things by how little time he could spend with them. Whatever.

I guess I decided that I was tired of being a “guest” in the great chat room that is the internet. So, here’s what I’ve got to say for now.

First, I wish my cold would go away. People look at you differently when you have a cold.

Second, I wish I owned a hybird car that was comfortable and plush, but still made me feel good.

Third, I can’t tell whether I should be mad at my new dog (I’ve had her for five months, so she’s not that new) for her behavior this morning. She slammed one of our cats into a pillow, put the other cat’s head in her mouth, and then jumped up and licked my bagel. After which, she settled down to chew her rawhide. I want to act like that sometimes. Just do random, slightly wacky, slightly hostile things, but then be nice right afterwards.

I could be ever-so literary and cite Melville’s bit about Ismael wanting to knock people’s hats off their heads and therefore knowing he needed to go to sea. But, then look at how that turned out for him. Sure, he survived, but no-one else did. And wouldn’t Starbuck be surprised what happened to his love of coffee.

Fourth, speaking of Starbuck, I am absolutely convinced that the current iteration of Battlestar Galactica is the best television show I have ever seen. I want Laura Roslyn to be president, here and now. I will be disconsolate if/when she dies. And, if I ever meet Mary McDonnell I will break the Southern California code of play-it-cool when there’s a celebrity around. I will tell her how wonderful she is and ask her to be my friend.

Fifth, I’m going to stop now. It’s dark here. Hope you will stop by again. Think scan or skim.