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Unless you live in the lowermost states in the US, then you are familiar with the term “Snow Day”. (In Florida, kids get out for “Hurricane Days” – this seems like far more fun than the paltry ‘snow days’ I got as a kid.) Sadly, Snow Days almost no longer exist for adults, which takes a lot of the fun out of snow. There’s also the issue that adults understand about cold. (Cold receptors are found to be missing in most children under sixteen.)

If you live in an area that gets winter snowfall, then you know that there are certain cycles to the years. Light years and heavy years maintain a reasonable pattern – for example, in my state of Tennessee we get heavier snows about once out of every three years. Apparently, us Tennesseans also develop a good case of “Wuss” during these same years.

It seems that this year’s unusual snow fall is due to an “El Nino” weather pattern. (I’m sorry, doesn’t the term “El Nino” refer to Jesus? Does this mean that Jesus is responsible for our snow? And who is “La Nina”? Because she is the responsible party for next year’s weather.) And this year has dumped a load of extra snow on us.

Let’s clarify, in Middle Tennessee we have our own definitions of “a lot of snow”. Here we usually get about two inches over the course of the ‘winter’ and we usually don’t get that all at once. Due to our inability to plow all our roads – most cities have only one plow, and this plow is usually an attachment on the front of a trash truck – we usually call snow days when we get any accumulation. And I do mean any!

When I looked on Wikipedia, they had a definition of a “Snow Day” and they graciously included a picture of buildings and cars with about eighteen inches of snow on them. They used this caption: “When cars are covered and roads are impassible, closings and cancellations are likely to occur”. I like that: ‘likely to occur’! haha! Maybe other places don’t have the bold attitude of Middle Tennessee – we close at the threat of snow! Take that Minnesota!

Our first year here, when the bus failed to show, I drove my kids in to school. I was promptly informed that the staff was all headed home to escape the coming deluge. After all, it was “already in Dixon!” Not wanting to seem as bad at local geography as I was, I said something like, “oh!” and immediately bundled my kids back home where I looked up Dixon and found it to be a good eighty miles away. My poor little LA transplant kids stood outside in full gear for an hour before giving up. Do you know how much snow we got? Yup – zero inches.

But this year has been far worse. Yes, we have actually had snow. We’ve even had what is locally known as ‘blizzard conditions’. This means there were flakes falling from the sky while at the same time wind was blowing. Nothing was sticking – that’s not a necessary condition to declare a blizzard. I’ve been asked “Oh, are you in one of those towns?” Yes, Justin, I am. I think we’ve had about 7 inches of snow. Total. I can’t be sure. No one is reporting the year-to-date high numbers. This may be because they are too scary or because no one can navigate to work to actually post the reports.

It’s true that people can’t handle the snow out here. Everyone claims they aren’t afraid, but I’ve been stuck behind too many bad, bad drivers to believe this at all. This year I am on the automatic reporting system, which means I won’t mistakenly drive my kids in on a snow day. I get a phone call that says “County Schools will be closed tomorrow due to the fact that we are wusses”. Okay, I added the part about wusses. But they have said it was due to ‘inclement weather’ and ‘extreme cold’ on different days. This amounted to some blowing flakes and a temperature of 19 degrees. I think the ‘wuss’ comment is well deserved.

Since the beginning of this year, my kids have missed more school than they have attended. I truly think the county is trying to convince us all to homeschool . . . one snow day at a time.

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Well, the 2010 Winter Olympics are underway, and that means it’s time for color commentary. As with any Olympic Games, there is just so much going on that it’s hard to keep track. There are the standard opening ceremonies, and the standard opening ceremony technical issues. The US snowboarders are wearing a uniform that looks like ripped jeans, which I personally like, and the speedskaters aren’t wearing the Colbert Nation capital “C” on their foreheads like the Sports Illustrated issue led us to believe. I think this may be due to a ruling against any kind of advertising on the uniforms. No, the advertising must stay in commercial time and places where it is sanctioned by the IOC. (That’s International Olympic Committee, for those of you not up on your mid-winter three letter acronyms (or TLAs, as we like to call them.))

Regardless, there’s still plenty to do. Anyone playing the Apolo Ohno drinking game could get hammered. Drink when they say his name, chug when they show his life story, and make everyone else chug when they warp the story for their news. Already, they have showed the interview where Apolo says that the fact that the Olympics is in Vancouver was a factor in his decision to return. Bob Costas later said it was “the reason he’s back.” Yeah, that’s not what he said. Also, they talk about how he left the sport, partied, got endorsements, won Dancing with the Stars (which I thankfully missed.) Then Good Ole Bob talks about Ohno’s continuous and unflagging devotion to his training. (Um, as a journalist(ish) shouldn’t Mr. Costas know the meaning of words like ‘continuous’ and ‘unflagging’. I’m thinking of sending him a pocket dictionary for his birthday.) None of this seems to be Ohno’s fault, including the fact that 19-year-old American JR Celski has been heartily dissed. Three times Ohno’s Silver was announced with no mention of Celski’s Bronze. I think it’s because Bob and his cronies all have their faces pulled too tight. Perhaps facelifts were one of the IOCs new rules?

But best of all, at the very beginning of this Olympics, is the Pairs Figure Skating competition. Figure Skating has been in the Olympics for just over a hundred years – get this, it started in the Summer Olympics before there even was a winter version – so I don’t think it’s going anywhere anytime soon. But we have to ask: is it even a sport? When there’s an overall tie in figure skating, the medal goes to the skater with the highest ‘artistic’ marks, and therefore lower ‘technical’ marks. Doesn’t that mean that figure skating has declared itself more an ‘art’ than a ‘sport’? And let’s be honest, even the torn-jeans-looking ski pants worn by the US snowboarders are a real uniform. Figure skaters wear ‘costumes’. Costumes are for theater, athletes wear uniforms – not that I want to go toepick to toepick with any of those figure skaters guys. I don’t want to go up against any male ballerinas either (are they ballerinos?), that doesn’t make them a sport.

Still, the commentary alone is worth watching, whether it’s a real sport or not. The performances have been less than stellar and the announcers have been scrambling to find things to say.

Given that, these great gems have come out of figure skating:
*Horrified Gasp* when a girl was nearly dropped from a lift. It came from behind in our 7-1 surround sound. Awesome!

“In the long program, the skaters can get tired, and you can see that here.”

“What separates them from greatness is their lack of elegance.” Ack!

Yes, the pairs figure skating has been fun. There have been no great performances. Even though the US Figure Skating Association deems artistic merit a major portion of the ‘sport’, there has been little to no art in this Olympics so far. Add to that, the IOC has dictated some weird things: 1) extra points for grabbing your skate. The skaters look like they are afraid the blades will fall off. 2) turns in very bizarre positions – look we are a tree! Now we are a spinning lump with arms flailing! 3) paired turns that go on so long you get bored, and should really get up and get a beer, they’ll still be turning when you get back! The IOC has also seemed to deem that the long program music is limited to bad eighties songs.

Yes, the Chinese showed up dressed as Spaniards and the Canadians came as clowns. And the medals went to the skaters who seemed to understand that they should land their jumps using their feet rather than their butts!

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When I was a toddler, parents put kids in playpens to keep them from getting into things. While the contraptions themselves have been redesigned and are now squishier and easier to assemble, they are basically the same thing. Yet, call it a ‘playpen’ and you will be subjected to rude stares and shocked ‘how-could-you?’ faces. No! We no longer ‘pen’ our children. Or we do still pen them, but we call it a ‘play-yard’ and it’s all okay.

There’s more to this parental terminology – like the famous “we don’t believe in spanking” phrase. I always wondered about this one. Do these people believe that spanking doesn’t exist? I assume they mean they don’t believe they should do it to their kids. So they put their kids in the corner. No, wait. They would never do that. They put their kids in the corner, but call it ‘time out’. Yes, that makes it good.

I’m waiting for when these kids grow up and play in professional sports. The coach calls a time out and all the pro athletes cross their arms, huff and pout about why they are being punished.

There’s more to it than just the names we assign. It’s in the way parents talk to their kids, too. For some reason, we think it means more or works better if we don’t say ‘be quiet’ but say ‘use your inside voice’. Really, it means nothing if you don’t at some time say to the kid ‘go on. Use your outside voice.’

A phrase that started up about ten years ago, and totally drives me bonkers, is “Use your words.” Whoever thought this up should sleep poorly at night – I’m coming for you! Parents will look at a whining or crying kid and just say this phrase over and over. While the idea is fine, that’s as far as it gets. Nurses everywhere know that it’s medically inappropriate to tell an agitated patient to ‘relax’ or ‘calm down’, because it actually makes them worse. Think about the last time you were upset and someone said this to you. Chances are, you yelled back “I am calm!” See? It doesn’t work. And “use your words” has the same problem. I’d have a lot of respect for a little kid if he responded to this phrase with “Okay – bite me!”

One of the newest of these bad parenting phrases is the term “Bad Choices”. Why is that man in prison? He made bad choices.

Does this really help any kid? I understand that we need to talk to kids about decision making, but does throwing a catch-phrase at them solve the problem? A good friend of mine has two kids about eight years apart. When the second arrived, they all talked to him in normal tones of voice, except for the older brother, who cooed and spoke baby yammer to the new infant. My friend pointed out that, if the baby was smart at all, he was going to wonder what was wrong with his older brother.

There’s something to be said for that point of view. Though most kids don’t have adult vocabulary, neither do a lot of adults! Why talk to them in a way that talks down? Any decently intelligent kid is going to pick up on this. You’d never talk to another grown-up this way.

Imagine this: you are at work and you have to talk to an employee about his performance. You say to him, “well, you made bad choices.” When he stares at you gape-mouthed, remind him to “use your words.” Then when he does find his words, and calls you any manner of names, just smile and say “inside voice, please.”

With the behavior we see in most kids these days, clearly this new ‘parent speak’ isn’t even close to working. Maybe we need to step it up a notch.

The other day I was in the car with my kids and a squirrel darted in front of me. Then he did that stupid squirrel thing where, halfway across the road, he switched direction and went back. I swerved. The dumb critter changed direction one more time, putting him square under my tire. I felt bad. I really tried to avoid him. But it was too late. So I decided to give his life meaning. Maybe others could learn from his mistakes. When my kids asked if we had hit the squirrel, I said “Yes. He made bad choices.”

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I’m writing this to make a plea to Americans everywhere. Give just five minutes of your time. Not for the homeless or the hungry, not for the children or for any charity. For all of us.

We all know those things our parents and teachers told us: Do it right the first time. Go the extra mile. But a lot of us don’t. And the issue is this – that extra mile, that ‘getting it right’ is often only about five extra minutes of time.

Think about the words to Kanye West’s “Stronger”. This song was immensely popular and spawned several covers. Though Kanye is often great with the words, he owes us that extra five. Did he really think it was okay to leave us with rhymes like “since OJ wore isotoners” and “Klondike”? They appear to be the only rhyming words within his reach at the time. But an extra five minutes could have resulted in so much more. Clearly he’s capable, but no, we get left with what could have been a truly great song had he put in the extra five.

While we’re on the topic of music, think about what it would have meant if Alanis Morrisette had taken an extra five minutes and made friends with a dictionary. It wouldn’t even have to be a big one. Even a small, elementary, pocket dictionary would have contained all she needed to know that not one thing in that stupid song was actually ‘Ironic’. “Isn’t it ironic?” No, Alanis, it wasn’t.

Music is really one of the best places to find examples of everyday American speech. We could look to the politicians and the sound bites we hear from them, but think back and count how many political phrases you listened to today versus how many songs. Even if you are one of the smug who did listen to the words of our leaders, rather than the words of those with pretty voices, can you quotes those words? Can you go up to a person on the street and ask him what our president said today? Will he know the answer? Chances are much better that he can quote all the lyrics to the latest Brittney Spears song. (Don’t get me started on her. When “Three” came out I was delighted to know she could count that high.) And, to top it off, far too many American-isms come from music, rather than anything intelligent that was said. *sigh*

At this point, I have to switch topics and talk about cows for a moment. Bear with me, this will make sense in a minute.

When most Americans think about cows, we think “mmm, tasty, tasty”. We think hamburgers and steaks, not ‘wow, I would love to talk to that cow.’ Even those vegetarians who defend those who can’t speak but are cute and furry, don’t go around saying their best friend is a cow or ‘did you hear what that brown cow said last week? He didn’t think the new healthcare plan was extensive enough.’ That’s just not gonna happen.

We don’t think cows are very bright, and so most of us eat them.

Do you see where this is headed?

When the aliens land, they are going to come to America first (probably New York – as we know from movies of every decade). And when they try to talk to us, what are they going to hear? “Isotoners” and “Klondike”. This is going to sound like “Moo, moooooo” to them.

If they learn the language – which I wouldn’t put past a culture that could get here from however far away they are – they are going to hear tons of misuse. Things like Alanis asking us all, ‘isn’t it ironic?’ What can the aliens possibly think about a culture that doesn’t even speak its own language correctly?

Exactly – the same thing we think about cows.

So I beg you, take the extra five minutes. Do it right. Help someone who needs it. Boycott Kanye (you might already be doing this, Thank you.) You just might save us all from becoming the base food of whatever the aliens call their McDonald’s!

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Though the rooms on board a ship aren’t what anyone would call ‘large’, they beat the hell out of the servants’ quarters. In the days of the Titanic, there was a steerage class. But that was cruise for transport rather than vacationing. These days, our rooms all have plush carpeting, made beds and towels folded into animal shapes. Every now and then you catch a glimpse into the service stairwell or such. The hallways the attendants use have no carpet, only that tread-like plastic flooring that says they want to just hose the whole place down rather than actually clean it.

There’s more to the underbelly of a cruise than just the actual service areas. Like on most ships, our attendants came from any number of different countries but almost none from the USA. We heard rumors that ships won’t hire more than fifteen percent of the staff from any one nationality, for fear that they’ll stage some kind of coup and mutiny on the guests.

What this means to the traveler is that you can’t understand your captain very well until the word ‘diarrhea’ comes over the speakers. And are they serious about that! If you are ill they will quarantine you. Apparently, they only hire germophobes to work on cruise lines. Though they smile at you, they won’t hesitate to squirt you with a near-pure-alcohol substance they refer to as ‘hand sanitizer’. Then they smile and say “Welcome” with a smile and an accent, while you discover cuts you didn’t know you had on your hands.

Though rumors abound about employee hookups and orgies among the crew, there are specific warnings in the daily events calendar. Guests are reminded not to mistake the crew’s friendliness as anything other than an enjoyment of their work. Yes, apparently putting the moves on your cabin boy will get you involuntarily debarked in Mazatlan. Too bad, so sad. No sex for you, find your own way home.

Yes, the crew cleans, takes out the trash and scrapes away the leftover food into a chute that takes it away from the eyes of the paying customers. Apparently, they are dealing with more than this. On day five our Environmental Tip said this: “Remember, do not put any items into the toilet that you could not eat.” They made an exception for the specially formulated, flushable toilet paper, but nothing else.

This was concerning. There were thirty-five of us in our group and we agreed that a pizza could therefore go down the commode. As could a turkey – if we de-boned it first. But we all agreed that what we had been putting down the toilet did NOT fall into the category of ‘items we could eat’.

Of the thirty-five of us, thirty-three have a really sick sense of humor. Still, no one took me up on my offer of a reward for the first person who took their poo (in a baggie – dog-park style) to the front desk and cited the Day Five Environmental Tip.

Sadly, I only saw glimpses into the underbelly I had all these imaginings about. I enjoyed the rumors and did my best to perpetuate them. But it seems that I am far more likely to get myself involuntarily debarked in a third-world city than I am to get the special treatment tour of the whole ship.

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Right now, I am sitting in the breakfast bar of a cruise ship. I’m looking out over the waves and not seeing the whales. The captain swears there were several spotted right off the bow just a little while ago. And science agrees – this particular place and season is both the birthing and mating spot for scores of whales. Instead the only whales I have seen are those who seem to think all common courtesy about speedos no longer applies once you have hit international waters.

We are headed back to LA after a week in the Mexican Riviera. We have seen Cabo San Lucas, Mazatlan and Puerto Vallarta. We rode Zip Lines in the canopy and ATVs on the beach. We did see actual whales on a sailboat where they plied us with margaritas and fresh guacamole. And we learned not to reply when we heard the word “Touristas”. We also learned that we might as well have a target on our backs – my good Spanish accent does not make up for the fact that many words I learned so long ago are out of my grasp now. I find myself with a reasonably well-crafted sentence that stops dead while I think “now what’s the word for ‘cheap’?”

The ship itself provides a lot of interesting things, too. It really is a floating city with a promenade, restaurants, theaters and even an ice skating rink. Yes, I have gone ice skating on the Pacific.

I have cruised before this – I’m not a virgin. This ship is a different cruise line than the last time and it’s noticeably bigger. Given this, we assured everyone that we were not going to get sea-sick. Big ships don’t roll the way little ones do, and our last cruise was rock solid. If you hadn’t seen the sea just beyond the plexiglass you wouldn’t have known you were on it.

Ahem. My friend, Lou, spent the first three days sick to her stomach – because this baby rolls! Big rocks back and forth. Maybe because, at eleven stories above sea level, we are so high up? Maybe the seas are rougher? I don’t know, but there’s an unmistakable pitch here. Being the geek that I am, I tried measuring it by sighting the horizon off my handrail on my balcony. Best I can guesstimate (sorry, didn’t bring instruments) we are rolling a good 4 degrees each way.

This means a marble would easily roll back and forth, even on the plush carpet we have. It means that the mini-golf on board is a bit of a challenge and an even playing field for all. It also means my alcohol tab (which is separate and can kill your bank account) has remained remarkably low. Who needs liquor when I stumble like a drunk just walking down the hallway? That spinning sensation when I try to go to sleep while drunk is an all-the-time occurrence. The only thing missing is the inflated sense of self-esteem. But at about ten bucks a pop for alcohol, the self esteem wasn’t going to get too high anyway.

One night, in the name of science, I did have three tequilas. Just to see if that might even out the rocking of the boat. The answer is: no, it didn’t.

Just in case the rocking wasn’t enough to make you sick, they stuff you with food every moment you are on board. There’s at least a buffet open all twenty-four hours of the day – for lunch and dinner it sports no less than three different nationalities of food choices. And for long hours there are three full meals served in courses in the formal dining room. As we don’t usually eat a full breakfast, three-course lunch and four-course dinner as a routine, we are all packing on the pounds. We can tell because the doors to the cabins are slim enough that I bet a lot of my fellow passengers didn’t fit through on day one, let alone day seven.

While there is a gym and also a spa, there are more wonderfully sedentary pursuits for our days at sea. There are shows: Movies in the theater, an Ice-skating show (no surprise), and tons of games. The “Love and Marriage” game show yielded a young couple on their honeymoon with both his and her whole families in tow. After they gave different and equally embarrassing answers to the ‘most unusual place you’ve made whoopee’ question, we were pretty certain that her father was going to leave his new son-in-law’s body in Puerto Vallarta. Going on stage with both families watching didn’t strike me as too bright. Then again, bringing them all on your honeymoon kinda says it all.

My group managed to win both “Scene It” Movie trivia and “TV Show Name That Tune” with perfect scores. In one case we won hats and in the second we got Medallions with the cruise logo. To be honest, they look like Transformer faces. We joked that we could summon Autobots at will. But as we were commenting that it was really nothing to be proud of, a cranky old man came up and told us we were watching too much TV and should be having more sex. So we told him we liked to do both at the same time and that TV theme songs turned us on.

In spite of the major pitch and roll, it’s been a lot of fun. Or maybe because of it. We can’t tell who’s been drinking and who hasn’t – everyone’s walking like a bloated idiot. People have been really nice, there are six hot tubs on board and with the rocking it’s like a hot wave pool. And, once you accept the cheesiness, the games have been fun.

I have to go now. There’s 80’s trivia right after lunch. I’m hoping to win a cruise logo bathing suit to show off my new figure.

Cruisin’ Along – the seedy underbelly

Though the rooms on board a ship aren’t what anyone would call ‘large’, they beat the hell out of the servants’ quarters. In the days of the Titanic, there was a steerage class. But that was cruise for transport rather than vacationing. These days, our rooms all have plush carpeting, made beds and towels folded into animal shapes. Every now and then you catch a glimpse into the service stairwell or such. The hallways the attendants use have no carpet, only that tread-like plastic flooring that says they want to just hose the whole place down rather than actually clean it.

There’s more to the underbelly of a cruise than just the actual service areas. Like on most ships, our attendants came from any number of different countries but almost none from the USA. We heard rumors that ships won’t hire more than fifteen percent of the staff from any one nationality, for fear that they’ll stage some kind of coup and mutiny on the guests.

What this means to the traveler is that you can’t understand your captain very well until the word ‘diarrhea’ comes over the speakers. And are they serious about that! If you are ill they will quarantine you. Apparently, they only hire germophobes to work on cruise lines. Though they smile at you, they won’t hesitate to squirt you with a near-pure-alcohol substance they refer to as ‘hand sanitizer’. Then they smile and say “Welcome” with a smile and an accent, while you discover cuts you didn’t know you had on your hands.

Though rumors abound about employee hookups and orgies among the crew, there are specific warnings in the daily events calendar. Guests are reminded not to mistake the crew’s friendliness as anything other than an enjoyment of their work. Yes, apparently putting the moves on your cabin boy will get you involuntarily debarked in Mazatlan. Too bad, so sad. No sex for you, find your own way home.

Yes, the crew cleans, takes out the trash and scrapes away the leftover food into a chute that takes it away from the eyes of the paying customers. Apparently, they are dealing with more than this. On day five our Environmental Tip said this: “Remember, do not put any items into the toilet that you could not eat.” They made an exception for the specially formulated, flushable toilet paper, but nothing else.

This was concerning. There were thirty-five of us in our group and we agreed that a pizza could therefore go down the commode. As could a turkey – if we de-boned it first. But we all agreed that what we had been putting down the toilet did NOT fall into the category of ‘items we could eat’.

Of the thirty-five of us, thirty-three have a really sick sense of humor. Still, no one took me up on my offer of a reward for the first person who took their poo (in a baggie – dog-park style) to the front desk and cited the Day Five Environmental Tip.

Sadly, I only saw glimpses into the underbelly I had all these imaginings about. I enjoyed the rumors and did my best to perpetuate them. But it seems that I am far more likely to get myself involuntarily debarked in a third-world city than I am to get the special treatment tour of the whole ship.

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Well, it’s a brand new year, and that means it’s time for the same old resolutions. Yup, most years, me and mine resolve to become healthier / lose weight / get ripped. And most years nothing comes of it except that long about March we get a niggling sensation that we forgot to do something important.

Last year, we decided that if we were really going to stick to it, it would have to be fun. And hey, if we got Wii Fit, well that would be fun, right? We could get the kids on the healthy track early and yada yada yada.

As the first household in our immediate family circle to get the Wii fit, we became the place to come to play on the balance board.

First, if you have a Wii, then you are familiar with the concept of a Mii. This is a little avatar that you get to make, and like the name suggests, most of us go all narcissistic and spend several hours trying to get these little cartoon blobs to look as much like us as possible. After coming to grips with the fact that, yes, our eyes really are spaced like that and the square chin does best match our own faces, we get freaked out by how much this little conglomeration of features does look just like us! Creepy!

So when you first get on the Wii Fit, you dial up your Mii and try to get him to work out. But the good folks at Wii realized this isn’t right! What incentive do you have to trim up if your digi-alter-ego is already you but sleek? So the first time you hop on the board you’re in for a surprise.

For starters, the Fit has an adorable little voice that says ‘oh!’ when you climb on the board that serves a joystick and scale. Then it says ‘measuring, measuring’ in that same cute little voice. It occasionally hiccups a little, and we were afraid that as our heavier folks climbed on it might just let out a horrified little ‘ouch!’ or maybe even a full protestation – ‘you’re hurting me!’ But no, what it does is really far worse.

It takes a number of measures such as balance and reaction times and assigns you a ‘physical age’ that is often in the ‘senior’ category for people we would term young and relatively fit. It’s also remarkably easy to shave years off of this age just by trying again, so I’m not sure what it’s worth. But, that isn’t the worst of it.

No, it uses data you input (height & age) to calculate your BMI. If you are in the normal range this is all fine. But the normal range seemed a bit low to us. It didn’t capture some of the people we really thought would fall into it. And the ‘mildly overweight’ level seems impossible to get into. Too many family members jumped right into the mid numbers of the ‘obese’ category. And while we all like to lie to ourselves (it’s just an extra ten pounds and I can shed it if I put my mind to it!) I really wouldn’t label anyone in my family as obese – and not just because they are going to read this. After three family members earned this unsavory title, my sister yelled at it: “Obese! We’re in America! Stupid Asian BMI!”

If the label wasn’t bad enough, the next part is! Your Mii suddenly frowns. Bad things are coming your way. Yes, your Mii bloats right before your eyes – gaining all the extra baggage your “obese” real self has. Then, just to rub it in, the little Mii grabs its big, jiggly belly and gives it a shake while looking just about depressed enough to ask you to hit the ‘delete’ button and end his sad little existence.

Though your little Mii will lose the weight right along with you – shedding it in happy bits as you weigh in – the initial phase where his digital self gets surprised by all the weight you have gained for him is a bit too much to bear.

So, no. Sad to say, the Wii Fit didn’t really get us to our goal. My Mii hasn’t been exercised in months. And when I get back on, I know he’s gonna point that out to me, with recrimination in his sad little digital voice.

This year, instead, I am resolving not to resolve anything. I want to say that this is a resolution I can keep, but I do realize that it creates a completely circular conundrum and that I have broken this resolution just by having it. Oh, well, at least my record of breaking resolutions stands intact. And this year, my Mii will race Mario Karts and keep his little opinions about my weight to himself!

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Hello Chickens!

I have an extra special treat for you this holiday week. I was recently asked to do an interview on TruckStar Radio - a show for people who drive for a living and do a lot of listening to the radio. They LOVE audiobooks and they really wanted to know all about the AudioMovie of RESONANCE.

I had a great time talking with them. Be warned, this 30 minute scheduled interview went for almost 2 and half hours, and it’s all here for you. Happy listening!

AJ

Listen to AJ's Podcast SMART CHICKENS

Because Sometimes We All Just Want to Fly the Coop!

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The Chipmunks have a new movie out and, like many chipmunk additions before, it’s often inappropriate. The last movie inspired my kids to sing “Don’t you wish your girlfriend was hot like me.” Ah, yes! The Pussycat Dolls - because singing anything in a squeaky voice makes it okay for kids.

The Chipmunks aren’t the only ones who have crossed the line. Many, many venues are feeding kids adult material in glossy kid tones. KidzBop ads feature one adult song after another and then have karaoke sing-a-long tracks to be sure your kids know the words.

It’s not just music either! For years, movies have been making unsavory stories into kid-fare, too. (I’m talkin’ to you, Disney!) The story of Pocahontas isn’t for kids – she didn’t paint with all the colors of the wind. She was likely the lover of a much older, married man. And many state that her knowledge gave the English the information they needed to wipe out the native people. So get your daughter a costume and pretend that Pocahontas helped eradicate racism!

There was an Anastasia movie as well. The only thing in its favor is that this movie was poorly executed and very few kids saw it. While there is new recent evidence suggesting that the real Anastasia died with the rest of the Romanovs, the stories about her escape were harrowing at best. The cleanest versions had her sheltered by kindly country folk in a Nazi-Germany-like culture. Others had her trading with soldiers - sex for shelter. Some say she yanked her own teeth to destroy a dental record match and most had her ending up in a mental hospital. But apparently if we give her a talking bat for a friend (or some crap like that) it’s all good for kids.

The Chipmunks may have been among the pioneers in this realm. (I don’t know, did Mickey Mouse have some molestation charges that he bought off? Is everything just peachy after he dies, because no one will remember the damning evidence and the need to pay to make the charges go away? A nice glossy movie and we are all soothed.)

I listened to the Chipmunks as a kid. My sister and I sang along to all the songs and to this day I have friends who can pipe up in squeaky voices to “You got to know when to hold’em (when to hold’em!)” (Yes, I hear some of you laughing).

I don’t think any of us would be surprised that the original version of “Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys” didn’t actually include that squeaky “chipmunks!” at the end of that line. Nor did it have that verse about liking roasted acorns and not doing homework. “On the road again” was another song that had clearly been taken over by the little nut-crunchers. And I wasn’t shocked to learn that the Gambler hadn’t actually bummed a “twinkie and offered me a bite”.

A little buff and shine isn’t that big a deal. I had a sheltered life, but not that sheltered, and neither do my kids. I am firmly in the camp that believes if we protect our children from everything, we protect them from nothing. By the same token I’m stomping on that KidzBop CD when I find my daughter with the mic in hand singing the Milkshake song.

It’s the bad stories gussied up as good that get me. If we make Disney Princesses out of real people with unsavory pasts, where do we stop? Are we headed for “Monica Lewinsky, the musical”? Do we send our daughters out for Halloween in blue collared dresses with stains? Do we send our boys out as Hitler: misunderstood underdog?

We can’t just change a few words and make it okay. The other day I was in a store and through the speaker system I heard “The Coward of the County”, another old Chipmunk classic. In my head, I sang along. (If you know this song already, you may be asking yourself “who the hell fed that to kids!?!?!”) As I wandered the store, I heard squeaky voices in my head, right along with Kenny Rogers, up until the part where the “Gatlin boys were bullies and they beat up Tommy’s best friend.”

No. I stood, gape-mouthed, in the center of the store blocking traffic as my mind absorbed the real words. The Gatlin boys didn’t beat up Tommy’s friend, they gang raped the love of his life.

Aside from having my brain blown by what horror I had been fed in a candy shell, I thought, “Who plays this song in public?” Then I realized that was a stupid question. Of course people play it in public. A whole lot of people were involved in making that Chipmunks album and playing a version for kids. Hell, my own parents bought it for me. (And they didn’t allow me to see PG-13 movies until I was 15!) Did people think we’d never find out? That we’d never hear the original and be appalled?

I’m having to resign myself to the fact that I am mostly alone in this battle. No one else seems to care. The movie makers aren’t concerned what kids might find out later, or what the real story is. And why should they be? Too many parents seem to think that if it’s shiny it’s okay.

So I – like many of you – am left playing gatekeeper by myself. Excuse me, apparently I’m going to have to go research the next Disney movie before we can go this weekend. I want to be sure the Princess’s Daddy wasn’t funding that castle with mafia dealings, and that the nasty “little scuffle” marking our heroine as “misunderstood” wasn’t over drug money.

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It seems that simply participating in the holidays isn’t enough anymore. No, now we have to be able to talk about them and understand them with each other. So, I offer a small handful of holiday terms and advice to help you get through the season!

Black Friday – an offensive term for the Friday immediately following Thanksgiving Thursday. Stores are now advertising using the term ‘Black Friday’. There are two schools of thought as to how this term came about. 1) this is the day businesses move from the red into the black. If this is the reasoning then it would be more honestly called ‘just give us your money day’.
2) stores are so crowded with shoppers that people have actually been killed in stampedes that resemble the panicked buffalo of the old west. If this is the reason for the term, then everyone who smiles at the camera and suggests that we all come out for a “Black Friday Sale!” should be lined up and shot. No wait, they should be trampled.
Protest insulting advertising while staying safe, stay home.

Thanksgiving – 1) a gluttonous American holiday that celebrates conquering a native people and taking their land. Pass the corn!
2) a gluttonous American Thursday that used to signal the start of the ‘holiday season’

Holiday Season – a term referring to a series of winter days wherein we are supposed to be thankful and joyous even though most of us are freezing our butts off. The ‘season’ used to begin with Thanksgiving and run through New Years. Though New Years still signals the end, Thanksgiving is no longer the beginning. Now, we start with Halloween.

Halloween – 1) a pagan holiday appropriated for dressing in costumes and begging for candy. This day is unusual in that it runs the entire gamut from being protested as profane, passes by apathy and humor in the middle and goes all the way through to the sacred.
2) The new beginning of the season. Starting the holidays with Thanksgiving is so . . . last season. While Thanksgiving, a purely American day, offers up much in sacrifice to the supermarket gods, it does virtually nothing for the retail sector. Thus, stores now begin decorating for and pushing merchandise for winter days starting on November 1st.
Protest stores pushing you to buy tinsel mid-November by vomiting when you see this. If you are anything like me, this won’t be difficult as you probably already have the urge!

Winter holidays – no longer referred to as the “Christmas Season”, the Winter Holidays include a wide variety of mid-season celebrations from a variety of faiths. The major versions practiced in America are “Christmas” and “Hannakah”, although Pagan days such as “Yule” are observed as are festivals like “Kwanzaa”. There are also made-up holidays from places that have no naturally occurring mid-winter holiday because, well, they don’t really have winter.

Deep Fried Turkey – a turkey cooked by a process in which you heat a large cauldron of oil, usually on a stand with a gas burner under the pot. Then, using a strong wire and sensible turkey-roping technique, you dunk the entire bird under the hot oil until it is fried. Though this is customarily done outside, it remains the number one cause of burning your house to the ground during the ‘holiday season’. Notice I said ‘you’ do these things to get a deep fried turkey, because I sure don’t. I like my house. If you hate your house, but hate the idea of going to jail for fraud, may I recommend deep-frying a turkey in your back yard? As I have pointed out other times, there’s no law against stupid.

Semi-boneless – I have no idea what this means, but you can get a ‘semi-boneless’ ham. Still, it had a big ole honkin’ bone right there in the middle, right where you would expect one in a ham. Go figure.

Turducken – a stuffed chicken, stuffed inside a duck, stuffed inside a turkey then cooked. Because all three birds are de-boned while left whole, a turducken is often the sign of an overzealous cook.

Tofurkey – tofu. That’s all it is. Just soy product. Though vegetarians will try to convince you that it tastes just like turkey, it does not. A torfurkey is often the sign of an overzealous environmentalist.

Small Turkey – Thirteen to fifteen pounds. An indicator that Butterball thinks I am unloved and low on friends. As there were only eight people at my house this year, this is far too much bird (even when accounting for the planned gluttonous leftovers). This comes out to about 1.5pounds of meat per person! (I figure this because birds fly (well, turkeys kindof do) and therefore have hollow lightweight bones. Allowing a full pound and a half for skeleton, the smallest turkey we could find still had twelve-plus pounds of meat on it!) This, along with the six pound, semi-boneless ham, should make us all fat and make the supermarket gods happy for approximately another month, when we will make another nearly identical sacrifice.

Crazy-ass – the idea that we need to eat more, buy more and pretend to be happier during this portion of the year. It’s just winter. If we are supposed to be happier, then why do we spend so much time running around like fried turkeys looking for a gift that we have been designated to get? Seriously, with this kind of attitude, you would think it was Valentine’s day – another day where Hallmark and Wal-Mart designate how you should feel and that you should feel like less if you haven’t given them a lot of your money. Okay, like many others, I am full of a lot of hot air on this one. I love getting my family gifts. I actually love when I can find just the right thing. But I am working on being better.

Giving Thanks – many of us SAY thanks, but do we really GIVE it? This holiday season, whatever you celebrate, I challenge you to truly GIVE thanks for something in your life.

I am grateful that I can pay my bills, so today I gave to an organization that helps people who can’t.
What will you do?

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