Jeanette's Quirky World

April 29, 2008 Test RSS

2008-04-29T16:50:00.000-07:00

This is our test.

Horse races

2006-06-21T07:55:00.000-07:00

I have a list of things to do before I die. My mother-in-law, Marilyn, sweetly arranged for one of them last summer. We all went to the Ruidoso Downs in New Mexico to see horse races. She even arranged to get us into the Jockey Club, which is a posh way of seeing the exact same races. Catered food, no lines to place a bet, lots of close-up cameras on the horses, and a lovely atmosphere. The women's restroom was posh beyond belief--at least, it was for a commoner like me.

My youngest son, Kevin, is eighteen. He started out very blase, and wondering what all the fuss was about. I guess when your spare time is absorbed by video games, mere horses seem pretty tame. By the end of the third race, was bouncing off the chairs, waving his betting ticket like the rest of us. It was a whale of a lot of fun. (Once, we went to a stock car race, as it was also on my life list. It was interesting to have done, but nothing compared to the horse race.)

Marilyn's friend Pat, who had gotten us into the Jockey Club, told us a story about her daughter who had worked at the race downs one summer, doing cleanup. She gathered up all the losing tickets that people left scattered everywhere, and had them run through the betting machine, just to see if anyone had accidentally discarded a winning ticket. She was stunned to find out that it happened all the time. She made several hundred dollars that summer just from tickets that had been thrown away. Pat explained that many people who go to the races do a lot of drinking. They either don't read the results right, or enthuse about winning and get another drink, forgetting to actually claim the prize. It was amazing, and perfectly legal.

I think, all told, I bet about $10, and lost $6. That's the same as the cost of a movie ticket, and a lot more exciting than most movies I've attended.

Trips are Fun!

2006-05-31T20:21:00.000-07:00

We went to Ashland, Oregon for the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. They have wonderful performances and are only five hours away, so we go every year for a couple of days. This year we took both "boys" and their girlfriends, and rented a house. It's cheaper than three hotel rooms, and is more fun to share. At least, --it's more fun for me!

The first morning, when we all got up, I was on a bouncy sort of high, and kept springing around to hug people and say chirpy things. My family is inured to this, and Melissa's traveled with us before, but it occurred to me that Lara hadn't.

So I said, "Really, Lara, I'm not always like this when we travel."

And my eldest son piped up, "That's true. Sometimes she's asleep."

What would YOU do with a caricature?

2006-05-13T10:29:00.000-07:00

I've had a great time lately entering a contest on a website for a trio of caricature artists. http://www.caricatureking.com/competition.php They ask "Why do you want to win a caricature?" The "most witty answer" will win a free caricature.

I haven't won, of course, but it's been a lot of fun dreaming up answers. Mine are too far out, and a lot are just plain silly, but they were fun to write. A few of my contest entries (remember, they've already seen these):

**So I can finally honor my fans by having a decent picture on my pro baseball cards

**I've heard that Egypt is giving their Sphinx a face-lift. As a helpful gesture, I thought I'd give them a model of me to go by.

**I need a caricature as a replacement for my mirror. Every one I've had cracks when I walk by.

**Because it's the only possible way for me to experience life as a flying monkey!

**Because getting a caricature is the fastest weight loss program around. You're almost two-dimensional in no time!

Snoop Management 101

2006-05-03T17:59:00.000-07:00

My father had a wonderful secretary. He was quite pleased with Sally except for one thing. He suspected--couldn't prove it, mind you--but he suspected that she snooped. It wasn't so much that he was trying to keep secrets from her, but it's awkward to discover that your cache of candy bars has been alphabetized, especially as you'd hidden them so your wife wouldn't know you were eating them, and of course your wife is a very good friend of Sally's.

One day, my dad had a great idea. He didn't want to confront Sally, but he did want to know if the disarrangements were due to his carelessness or her interest in his private life. So he wrote a list in his beautiful long-hand, headed "Ten Reasons I Admire Sally" 1) She is always cheerful. 2) She genuinely cares about other people. 3)--well, you get my drift. Every statement was true, and even my mother wouldn't have objected to any of them. He hid the list in his desk drawer.

For several days, nothing happened out of the usual. But on day four, Sally came into his office positively glowing. "Oh Bob, would you like some more coffee? What about a newspaper? There are some very nice doughnuts down the hall. Would you...?"

Her lovely, bouncy mood lasted for days. My dad just smiled to himself and hid his candy bars somewhere else. All he'd wanted was the answer to a simple question, and he'd gotten it.

Papaya

2006-04-18T16:26:00.000-07:00

When our son Daniel was a year old, we went on a cruise. Daniel loved fruit of any kind. If our Portugese waiter served any kind of fruit, chances were I wouldn't get any of it. One evening, Angelo gave me a small dish of papaya slicess. I promptly gave it to Daniel so I could eat my own dinner. I'd only managed a few bites before he was done with his papaya and wanted more. I asked Angelo for another dish of it, as my son had eaten mine. Angelo looked surprised, but brought me a second. Naturally, Daniel ate that too.

When I asked for a third, Angelo looked a little shocked, but without protest, he brought a third dish. It was only then that I took my first bite of papaya, and discovered that it had been dipped in RUM!! And my one-year old son had delightedly chowed down on two dishes of it. No wonder Angelo was surprised!

Daniel slept very, very well that night. Naturally, we taste-tested everything else before giving it to him. Despite his early cravings (whether for papaya or for rum) he grew up just fine, and is actually graduating from college next month. So at least my moment of heedlessness didn't scar him for life.

Drawbridges

2006-04-09T13:17:00.000-07:00

Speaking of tradition—my oldest son, Daniel, has one that he and his friends have observed every Christmas for years. He and his friends pile into Ryan's basement for a 24 hour period to play computer games. Ryan's sister, they declared, was a nuisance, so blocking her from the basement became part of the tradition.

Mind you, all of these young men are in their twenties, and Ryan's sister moved out of the house a long time ago. But it wouldn't be a tradition if it didn't persist.

As years went by the plans for blocking her, but not her mother (who had the cookies, after all), became more and more elaborate. This year, in addition to the required draperies of blankets, and secret knocks, Daniel designed a drawbridge. This involved an old screen door, pulleys, and counterweights of two-liter pop bottles filled with water. The 'secret' way to open the drawbridge was to tap gently on a particular spot, helpfully labelled 'tap here'. How this deters the sister, I don't know, as she's been able to read for over fifteen years.

Daniel, being Daniel, developed official blueprints for the design before he came from college. He demonstrated it to his father and me in academic-Daniel fashion. He'd discovered a design flaw which irritated him considerably.

"Well, you see, I guessed that coefficient of friction between metal and string was 0.2." He shook his head in disgust. "It's probably closer to .25."

I had no idea what he was talking about, but I'm a mother, I tried. Comfortingly, I told him that I would've made the same mistake. After all, wouldn't you?

My son, who plays with sharp objects.

2006-04-01T15:29:00.000-08:00

It's wonderful having a son who's into martial arts, especially if you're a writer. Last night, I was stymied while writing a troublesome fight scene. Then my son Kevin happened to walk into the living room.

"Honey," I said, "let's say a monster appeared behind you, and wrapped its tentacle around your throat. What would you do?"

Kevin stopped, one foot frozen in mid-air. I don't know what he'd been planning to do, but he discarded it instantly, as he always does to the questions like these. What boy wouldn't?

"Do I have chain mail on, or armor?"

"Just a gorget, and leather armor. But you're a good fighter."

"Oh. Well, I'd grab my sword--"

"No sword. And you have to die at the end."

"Well, then, I'd grab my dagger, and spike up behind me like this . . ."

In no time, he'd fleshed out quite an involved battle, ending with a backflip off the castle wall, all of which he managed to demonstrate. --In spite of the fact that our living room doesn't have a castle wall.

"Great honey. Could you do it again in slow motion?"

Unfortunately, as fights involve more than one person, he can't always do the choreography on his own. I have to keep reminding him not to hurt his mother. Once he moves out, I'm going to have a really rough time. Thank heavens for unlimited phone calls between family members!

Jeanette

German keyboards

2006-03-25T07:21:00.000-08:00

When I visited Germany, I went to an Internet café to e-mail my sister, Katie. I was quite surprised to find that certain keys are in different places on German keyboards. In particular, the Z and Y are reversed.

This resulted in fascinating conversation such as "Oh, mz, I don't know if I can tzpe on this kezboard." It just took too long to correct everything, as I was on a time limit. (Insert another euro please!) So I gave up. Ever since, we've had fun inventing important messages with my "German typing accent". We've come up with these so far:

I had a sozburger and some coconut zogurt. Zum!
I was verz sleepz but the dogs kept zipping all night.
Bz the waz, remember how happz I was with that fluffz zellow sweater?
Sadly, razon is not as washable as I thought. I could just crz!

Jeanette

My multi-function cat

2006-03-19T12:07:00.000-08:00

My cat, Kerwyn, has become a doorbell. Or possibly, he's just a butler for the dog. I'm not sure. See, Kerwyn's a bit of a flake, the sort of housecat that takes two years to discover the possibilities of a warm lap.

He's not very talkative either, which is why it surprised me that two months ago, every evening at nine, he began meowing and leading me to the back door. Coincidentally, the dog was at the back door every time. Hmm... So, I let Rikki in, and the cat ignores us both, just sitting there licking his paws.

After several days of this, it finally clicked. When the dog comes in at night, I give the dog a treat. And when the dog gets a treat, of course Kerwyn gets a treat, too. After all, it's his house. Somewhere in that sweet, convoluted brain of his, point A connected to points B and C. 'Make her let the dog in, and I get a treat.'

So you know the truth: I CAN be trained!

Jeanette