Hooray for Square Root Day!!! by guest writer, Roboto

Do you know what bothers me most about flies? Not that they land on you and supposedly throw up or that they’re dirty and irritating. It’s not even that when one hovers around you it makes you all self conscious as if people are looking at you wondering, “Geez, I wonder why that guy didn’t shower today…”

Though irksome, those qualities pale in comparison with what bothers me most about flies– the randomness of their flight. There’s no pattern to what they do! Long flight, short flight, short, short, long, buzz, wing-flap, long, long, hidden somewhere, short, buzz, etc. GAHHHH!!!

It’s randomness that bothers me--when things don’t wrap themselves up into nice, neat little packages. It’s the wobbly stool or the lid that just doesn’t quite fit just right.

And then a gift such as today comes. I was reminded by two friends that today is Square Root Day. To put it plainly, 3 X 3 = 9 (today’s date: 3/3/09), or the square root of 9 is 3.

Now we’re talking perfection. Look at how perfect that is! The SAME number multiplied by ITSELF equals…well, it equals beauty, quite frankly. We’re talking division with no remainders. I mean three teams consisting of three people each. Nobody’s left out. No team resigned to say, “Fine, we’ll take the fourth person,” or opposition to say, “That’s not FAIR! Why do THEY get 4 people?!?” You couldn’t wipe the smile off my face today if you tried.

Square roots are mathematical beauty. They are the numeric equivalent of coloring inside the lines. Square roots, and conversely squared numbers, are like getting out of your car and realizing you parked perfectly…evenly spaced on both sides. Ever go to the store and get a thrill when they tell you your total is $12.00 EXACTLY, including tax? You know that little extra smile that brings you? Yeah, that’s what Square Root Day does for me.

Now, I know you might be thinking, wow, this guy really loves math. Yes, I do. I’ll own up to it. I’m an unabashed math nerd. And it’s days like today, and the other eight Square Root Days that happen every century, that make up for all the times someone leaves the radio or TV volume fixed on a prime number. *shudder*

HAPPY SQUARE ROOT DAY!!

A Dream Black and White

Once upon a time in a dream black and white,
a golden-haired puppy trembled with fright--
whether chasing or fleeing, it's hard to say,
but this pup's in a hurry, we know, either way.
His gait was gentle as he pawed through the air,
but then he was urgent to get quickly there.
He stirred from his sleep with a bark and a leap
And ran with such force, no longer asleep.

A Whistling Responsibility

Yes, that's right, I'm with the band. And now I have an added responsibility--a whistling one.

I've always dabbled in whistling, but I never expected to have an audience of 900 which is exactly what I'll have on April 23rd and 29th.

In fewer than ten measures, I am to add to the country western ambiance of "One More Angel in Heaven," in Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.

My lips are poised and my chapstick is ready.

Freedom of Smell

It's nearly spring and a lovely time to live in the south--the azaleas, flowering trees, and gentle breezes are poetic. But there's an interesting phenomenon with said trees and breezes. Sometimes, one such breeze will lift a visible cloud of pollen off a tree and hang it in the air for an impossibly long time. You may walk through the cloud if you choose, or you may walk across the street to avoid it.

But what if the tree could walk into a room and leave its cloud behind? That's what happens with the cloud of perfume, hairspray or aftershave that often lingers long after the bearer (or overbearer) has moved on.

And what if the overbearer wants to embrace? To quote a friend, "Sometimes, I hug someone and smell them on me the rest of the day. Is that fair? I didn't choose to smell that way!" Some folks like to hug trees, but I've never seen a tree offended if you choose to keep your distance.

What if that hug occurs in the morning and then you sit down with a cup of tea that ends up smelling more like Old Spice than chai spice? In approaching a gently-scented blossom, you may reach for it, take a pleasing whiff and move on without having to continue smelling blossom on your shirt, in your car, and in your dinner.

Some flowers don't actually smell so nice, but a subtle odor that stays with its blossom is preferable to a manufactured fragrance that leaves a long-lasting trail.

I am especially sensitive in vehicles since I have a propensity for carsickness. My queasiness is exacerbated by four things: sitting in the back, reading, looking back while the vehicle is in motion and strong smells (especially perfume and cigarette smoke).

The first three are easily managed:
"Anyone mind if I sit in the front?"
"No, I'm sorry, I can't look for your purse in the backseat."
"Can someone else read the directions?"

But that last one is troublesome. It's a bit harder to say, "Your aftershave makes me want to vomit" or to roll the windows down when it's 15 below. I'd rather not choose between losing my fingers to frostbite and losing my lunch.

Pretzel Rebuttal, by guest writer, Roboto

I figured I'd continue with my recent tradition of having a guest writer on Friday by posting Roboto's rebuttal to "Why Pretzels are Wack."

"Pretzel Rebuttal" by Roboto

Wow, I can't believe nobody came to my poor friend, Mr. Pretzel's defense! I'll give it the old college try.

Dry foods are amazing. It must be some sort of masochistic thing in me, but I could eat an entire loaf of bread, toasted, no butter, no jelly. Dry.

Tell me you've never started eating saltines without a glass of water, only to look down and realize that you've eaten almost the entire sleeve? And then you actually contemplate opening another sleeve because, yes, dry saltines are just that good.

The pinnacle of pretzel delight would be the Rold Gold Honey Wheat Braided Twists. MAN! Rather than air, carbohydrates and salt, somehow Frito Lay, makers of Rold Gold, have used unicorn breath and honey-laden carbohydrates, and then dusted them with angel freckles. Seriously, they're DELICIOUS!

The soft pretzel--though delicious, as you said--really can't be considered a pretzel, so let's just throw that argument out the window.

An entire bag of popcorn, nothing to drink? FANTASTICALLY dry. Toss in some pretzels to liven up the popcorn and I'm instantly brought to my childhood of watching Charlie Brown and his gang eating such an amazing snack for Thanksgiving.

If Charlie Brown is cool with it, so am I.

Obama/Biden/Pretzels - '08!!

Do the ChaCha

Ever wonder how many holes are in a Chinese Checkerboard or how many stars are in the sky? Ever find yourself at a family reunion but dying to know the current score of the big game? Or craving sushi in an unfamiliar city?

With a mobile phone, six numbers, and nimble thumbs, you can get the answers to these questions and more. Simply text your question to ChaCha (242242). In minutes, you'll receive an answer. Standard text message charges apply, but there is no additional cost.

Don't get too crazy though because you're only allowed four questions in 72 hours. And if you find yourself asking ChaCha if your socks match, it might be a good sign that it's time to put the phone down and get reacquainted with the world around you.

Do yourself a favor

and listen to "Central Park" from the King Kong soundtrack.

No More Spicy Pickles

She names her poop before flushing it down the toilet. When she grows up, she wants to be a teacher or the boss. She loves to dance, play hide and seek, and hang out with the "big girls." But three-year-old Gracie recently discovered that she's not quite ready for the pickles that feel like fire on their way in and out.

Her mother discovered it too when she walked away from Gracie's bed holding green-spotted sheets as far away from her body as possible. "No more spicy pickles."

Gracie followed a few steps behind with the green spots on her shirt and agreed, "No more spicy pickles."

I'm With the Band

Good ol' RATco is doing another musical. This time, it's about a dreamer named Joseph.

I've hardly played since I had corrective (not cosmetic) surgery on my lip a decade ago, but I couldn't resist the chance to dust off my flute and play a bit of Andrew Lloyd Weber for a high-quality production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.

That's one of the great things about RATco--you're able to try acting, singing or dancing even if you're not an expert. You get individual coaching and a personal investment from the director and producers. Along the way, you get to know new people and gain confidence.

RATco productions have always defied traditional logic by making a place for everyone, investing in everyone, and bringing it all together for a great show. By experience, I know that I'll be a part of something really special with this play.

Besides, now I get to say, "I'm with the band."

Things That Are Overrated, by William P.

Due to the overwhelming popularity of William P.'s recent posts, I thought I'd share a bit more from our sarcastic and endearing guest. I love the creative way he expresses his opinions even when I don't know what he's talking about or don't agree. Please understand that, despite recurring comments about things that make him so angry he wants to hurt things, William P. is actually a friend to the furry creatures.

"Things That Are Overrated"

Wow, I don't even know where to begin with this one. I'm not the type to complain about everything, but there are just some things in this world that I just don't get. For instance, the band Nickelback. Sure, they probably worked hard to get where they are now, but seriously, they are extremely overrated. If you ask me they sound more country than anything, nowhere near the modern rock they claim to be. The majority of the time the lead singer is just screaming at the top of his lungs. He sounds like a mix between McGruff the Crime Dog and Toby Keith.

Since I'm on the subject of music, I also think that Soulja Boy (yes, that's spelled correctly) is the most overrated thing in rap music since....since, well EVER!!! If I hear "Crank dat soulja boy" one more time, I'm going to kill a kitten. Also, the color yellow is overrated. Plain white tees, The War on Terror, Dane Cook, Carmen Electra, Mitt Romney, AC/DC, the whole year of 1999, Napoleon Dynamite (it's not that funny!!!), self-loathing, Jew and/or gay bashing (just stop, it's not funny), soda, life after high school, and emo scene/goth kids (because we all know that dressing exactly the same and listening to the exact same music makes you a non-conformist....NOT!!!). I'll just leave it at that.

To the Dogs

I couldn't let this topic go just yet. After my research into the world of luxury items for pets, this story, about a man who was apparently robbed of 300K in pet jewelry, doesn't seem quite as shocking.

Let that be a lesson to you if you really must carry around the equivalent of a mortgage in puppy bling.

The Discerning Pet

My favorite product from yesterday's post states in its description that it is "for only the most descerning of canines."

Maybe they should hire these "descerning" dogs to check their spelling. Their "moms" could probably use a little extra cash.

Just Four Paws

Have you been affected by dwindling investments or dropping home prices in today's troubled economy? Save your money from risky banks and 401K plans by putting it in the one investment that is guaranteed to bring long-lasting returns--pet jewelry.

Where bone-shaped birthday cakes and puppy brownies fall short, personalized dog jewelry shows how much you really care.

There's nothing that says "I am loved" like a glitzy pet cuff (just $55):

or a matching set of charms for you and your pup:

Appeal to your dog's sense of irony with the "Diva Collar," which accents her real fur with fake fur:

If you want only the best for your dog, turn to the designer for the stars who caters to Ricky Estefan (Gloria’s Dalmatian), Lola De La Hoya (Oscar’s Chi) and Neal Tyler (Liv's pup).

Though pet fashion has come a long way over the years, some customers, like Michelle, express consternation about a largely unpublicized size bias. Michelle describes the emotional experience of looking for a "pretty necklace for [her] pretty princess" at Glitzy Pet Jewelry, and realizing that "all of the necklaces were biased towards toy or smaller dogs."

"Surely that's not possible," you might be thinking. Think again. Determined, Michelle persisted and got a custom necklace for her "girl" Zoe. The site now carries a special collection for "plus-size" dogs.

Michelle's sense of injustice is furthered by this $1,700 bed at Bling Bling Puppy, which is only big enough for dogs up to 25 pounds. Perhaps a little sensitivity training is in order?

Until this issue is addressed, Michelle will have to get by with a regular bed fitted with custom dog steps ($150 and up) for Zoe's ease.

Other gratuitous ways to spend money on things your dog doesn't understand include diamond earrings and Gucci carrying bags. You may also wish to grind $20 bills into a fine powder to mix with her food.

Just Some Things on My Mind

A friend came to me after she read Turn Around with some things on her mind. She said, "Something's bothering me! Why does my spellchecker always try to add an apostrophe in somethings? What if I just want to talk about more than one thing?"

This is another case of a word meaning something entirely different as two words:

*something's=something has or something is:
Something's been on my mind all day.
Something's troubling me about your grammar.

some things=more than one thing:
Some things in life that just don't matter. Grammar is not among them.

Adore the Smore

Decades after it first made its messy way into my heart, I was finally reunited with the campfire smore in an unlikely place--my kitchen. That's right, after countless less-than-melty chocolate squares, un-roasted marshmallows, and mushy graham crackers, I have perfected the kitchen smore.

I'd like to share what I've learned so that you too may enjoy all the subtle nuances of the smore in the comfort of your very own home.

Many kitchen methods have proven insufficient in producing a graham-y, chocolaty and marshmallow-y treat worthy of the long-revered title of "smore."

For example, an impatient few will head straight to the microwave, where the marshmallow will balloon to unnatural proportions and the chocolate will puddle atop soggy graham cracker squares. Don't even bother.

Those with respect for the smore will try to incorporate fire in some way. This is commendable, but take heed. Gas fireplaces melt the marshmallow nicely, but may also melt your face off. Matches are less dangerous, but 137 matches, two burnt fingers, and seven hours later, you'll be more in the mood for breakfast.

Candles seem promising at first because they provide a long-lasting flame, but do not be fooled. Vanilla-scented candles do not enhance the flavor and, trust me on this, you'd much rather smell Ocean Breeze than taste it.

The trick, smore lovers, is in the toaster. No, NOT the projectile waffle kind of toaster--you wouldn't be the first to try shoving a marshmallow between the wires and you wouldn't be the first to fail.

A successful kitchen smore requires a toaster OVEN with a broil setting, marshmallow and chocolate topped graham cracker squares, and a combination of patience, skill, and tenderness.

The broil setting provides a gentle browning effect for the marshmallow, melts the chocolate without turning it to liquid, and leaves the graham cracker crisp.

Delicately rotate the marshmallow as it browns and glory in the chocolate glow. The magic of the smore is back.

Definition of Quirky

I just got back from a big night out at Sonic.

There, I watched a friend decide what she was going to order by dipping a pretend spoon in a pretend cup of pretend Oreo Blast and then pretending to taste it. She wasn't convinced yet so she then tried pretend Butterfinger Blast. She went back and forth between the two pretend cups before deciding that she was in the mood for Butterfinger.

And then she ordered an Orange Creamsicle.

Ultimud Frisbee

We had a long, Southern-style downpour yesterday and played Ultimate today. That's a muddy combination.

The game has gotten so popular that we've had to split into two games at once. Several kids from the local Children's Home joined us today, including one superstar who consistently caught impossible tosses. But even the third grader (whose dad just happened to see us playing and has brought his son every week since) left feeling like a superstar. Everyone has a chance to play and the score remains tied at all points--for the official scorekeepers anyway.

My favorite moments were the slippery ones--especially when they involved flailing arms, long skid marks and muddy clothes. But I didn't particularly enjoy being folded in half (by someone twice my size) during one such moment. Those stars sure were pretty though.

Anyone know what day of the week it is?

The Quest for a Successful Grapefruit-Eating Experience

Grapefruits are delicious, nutritious, and nearly impossible to eat. Crate and Barrel and other such stores actually sell spoons and knives dedicated specifically to making the grapefruit more accessible.


The knife just doesn't look right and I don't think spoons are meant to be dangerous. I'd like to keep my tongue, thanks.

And even if you manage to remove the delicious flesh with the spoon without getting a blinding squirt in the eyeball, you'll find sticky spots all over the counter and floors within a 10-foot radius for weeks. Of course, you could just peel it and eat it like an orange, but then you can't put the sugar on it and that's just yucky.

I've discovered the solution. Actually, my shopping soul mate (more on that later) introduced it to me and I'm a believer.
Del Monte Fruit Naturals, people.

They're fresh enough to require refrigeration and to have an expiration date. They still taste like grapefruit and don't turn into another food entirely like canned oranges, peaches and pears. They're cheaper than the real deal too.

Best of all, you can eat them without risking life and tongue.

Why Pretzels are Wack

Pretzels are wack–as in as not legit, unnecessary and lame. Wack is pronounced like whack (which is what I recommend doing to any pretzel not covered in chocolate), but the h is dropped to make it 20% shorter for texters (and primary users of the word).
Pretzels are straight air, carbohydrates and salt: they are not a legitimate food. If you're going to eat air, carbohydrates and salt, you may as well make it worthwhile. Try Dill Pickle Pringles or Cheetos–they actually have flavor.
A case has been made for pretzels filled with peanut butter. This is the most offensive kind of pretzel around. Why someone would combine the two driest food stuffs in existence is beyond me. You can get the same dry mouth and subsequent lip-smacking without going to the grocery store and exchanging money. Just go to the nearest playground or beach for a spoonful of sand.

There is one exception–soft pretzels–which are really just pretzel-shaped pieces of bread covered in various sweet or savory toppings. As such, they're delightful.

This post is for William, Joseph and Sophie who don't agree that pretzels are wack and who are wrong**.
**Proper etiquette requires me to invite rebuttal posts from pretzel lovers–misguided as they may be.

William P. On His Least Favorite Things

These two go hand in hand, so here's another post compliments of William P.

Similar to "My Favorite Things," I also have a lot of things that I hate, so this should be easy. First off, Aquaman. Seriously, why is he a superhero? All he does is talk to fish. Wow, that's amazing. Whoopdie-freaking-do!

PG-13 horror movies. I'm so sick of these unscary, piece of crap movies that are only made because teens are dumb enough to pay and see the same movie over and over again. "Oh noes, there's a ghost of a little girl that was hurt by her parents and now seeks revenge on anyone who watches a cursed movie and calls them in seven days!" FAIL!

Another thing that makes me want to stab kittens is sweet spaghetti. Dear Batman, I hate that stuff. I like spaghetti, but when it's extremely sweet, I want to punish small animals. When I see my friends eat the cafeteria's so-called spaghetti, I want to punch them in the face. I'm serious. Okay, not really, but still, that stuff is yucky.

Next up is cigarettes. The biggest waste of money in history. Even more than Nickelback's last CD. I just don't get it. It gives you bad breath, makes your clothes stink and slowly kills you over time. Well, sign me up for that! DOUBLE FAIL!

Other things I don't like include: hot weather, hypocrites, soda, losing, being told what I "need" to do and gas prices. Wow, I don't even know where to begin with gas. Gas is like 147 million dollars a gallon. OK, maybe I'm exaggerating, but dang! I can barely afford to buy enough gas to drive to a gas station to buy more gas. Hey, look on the bright side, there's always bikes, or extreme inline roller blading (oh goody!).

Speaking of extreme stuff, why is everything all of a sudden extreme? There's extreme Doritos, extreme deodorant, extreme fruit snacks. There's even extreme yogurt. Huh?! Seriously, how the heck is yogurt even remotely extreme? It's mind boggling. It's a freaking dairy product! Cows aren't extreme, so milk isn't extreme, therefore... YOGURT IS NOT EXTREME!!!!

Have you ever seen the movie "Meet the Spartans"? Don't, it sucks. Well, I haven't seen it but I'm pretty sure it sucks.

William P. on His Favorite Things

I have a very special treat for the blog followers today. Rather than a whole post talking about how I still can't lift my arms after my recent boxing match, I thought I'd share some writings from my favorite undiscovered writer. Back in my teaching days, we started class each day with a journal topic. This particular student never failed to make me laugh and has given me permission to post some of his writing. Below is his journal on "My Favorite Things."

Well, I have a lot of favorite things, so writing this shouldn't be too hard.

I love music, plain and simple. Music is like a drug to me, I've just go to have it. I listen to nearly every genre (well everything but country, except two or three songs I listen to when doing drive-bys in Grand Theft Auto San Andreas). Speaking of GTA, I also love playing video games. I've been playing ever since my brother went to college and gave me his Nintendo Entertainment System (or simply Nintendo) as an early fourth birthday gift. Since then, I've had a Sega Genesis, Sega Saturn, PlayStation, PlayStation 2, Gamecube, XBox, and an XBox 360 (my favorite).

I've never been big on watching TV, but over the past two years, I have become addicted to watching certain shows: Smallville, Lost, Heroes, Mythbusters, Dirty Jobs, Intervention, and two others that just stand out. My favorite show would have to be House MD. Gregory House is the coolest, most arrogant, prescription-drug-addicted doctor ever. The other show is Family Guy. BEST. Cartoon. Ever. "Nuff said.

More random favorite things are iguanas, movies, comic books, winning, pizza, BBQ, computers, YouTube, EBay, Digg, drawing stick figures in random, usually violent, situations, playing guitar, Michael Moore documentaries, driving and mostly anything cherry flavored.

The last thing I would like to write about only my closest friends know, but since I'm writing about my favorite things, I might as well add it to the list. I love 80s music! I know you're probably thinking, "Wow, he must really like 80s music." WRONG! I LOVE 80s MUSIC. I love it like a parent loves his kids, like Al Gore loves green stuff, like Tony Danza loves being the boss.

My favorite groups and artists include Tears for Fears (I'm listening to "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" as I write), Guns 'N Roses, A-Ha, Styx (Domo Arigoto, Mr. Freaking-Roboto), Foreigner, The Police, A Flock of Seagulls, Corey Hart (I actually own a pair of sunglasses which I sometimes wear at night), Toto, Cutting Crew, Mr. Mister, Squeeze, REO Speedwagon (just a couple of songs)...

I'm gonna stop here because this is actually a little embarrassing, seriously.

Relax, let's just talk.

Over the years, I've gained quite the reputation as a stickler on grammar. I have bolstered that reputation by using my blog to rail on such things as misplaced apostrophes, typos and commonly confused words.

Sadly, friends express self consciousness in their emails and in conversations with me--no matter how much I insist that mistakes don't bother me a bit in casual communication and that I make grammatical missteps too (seriously, I do).

I often ask for help from two people who know more grammar than me (the same two people who knew automatically that I should have said they "know more grammar than I"). And I also start sentences with and, but and because. I stubbornly leave out commas and end sentences in prepositions. And sentence fragments? I love 'em.

So relax--no need to walk on grammatical eggshells around me.

With that said, if you start writing for the Dining and Wine section of the New York Times and say that the third coarse had too much course salt or that the red potatoes were heavy on the time and didn't come out in a reasonable thyme, I will make an example out of you.

Ultimate Frisbee

Here's a picture. And yes, it's that serious.

I played ultimate twice this weekend. My big brothers would have been proud. Here's a photo with the Selma youth.

I learned that I'm better at sports now that I have glasses, that hustling is good but pacing myself is better, and that blood on my shirt is an effective intimidation tool.

Police Academy--Week One

Kelly came home from week one at Police Academy with swollen cheeks. She smiled through her busted lip as she described her first-ever boxing match. On the first solid punch her partner landed, she saw stars.

She also described what she'd been learning. The lessons on how to turn and salute were secondary to the lessons on teamwork and sacrifice. She described the oath of an officer and how it doesn't allow for selfishness and individualism. She understands.

She also smiled because she was finding out that she really does have what it takes to get through this. The moxie. The chutzpah. The stuff. Not just to get through it, as it turns out, but to lead the way as the Guide On--the one who carries the flag at the head of the group. One of her superiors told her she was chosen for a reason.

I'm not there to watch her at the academy, but I see her diligence at home. What I see is that she understands that true leadership is sacrificing self for the team.

To serve and protect while others wait to be served and protected.

Third Annual Martin Luther King Celebration

At the Third Annual Martin Luther King Celebration, the Freedom Foundation honored several Selma community members with lifetime achievement, courage and youth awards.

In preparation, I interviewed two of the recipients: Jean Martin and Annie Cooper.

Annie Cooper was a foot soldier of the Civil Rights Movement. A photo of Ms. Cooper's struggle with four officers, including Sheriff Jim Clark, ran in the New York Times on January 26th, 1965 and provoked national sympathy and support for the voting rights struggle.

Jean Martin is a true public servant. She has demonstrated a commitment to doing what she believes is right, no matter what the cost.

I had the opportunity to chat, look through family photos and reminisce with these two special women. And though my official reasons have ended, I'll continue visiting my new friends.

I was happier to hold the flowers for these two special women and to sit backstage, unable to hear much of the program, than I would have been to present an Oscar for best actor or to sit at the 50-yard line at the Super Bowl. These aren't heroes of entertainment or of physical strength—they are heroes of courage.

One young man who once said he was "too poor and too black" to go to college, gave a speech that started with, "I know what it's like not to have running water. I know what it's like to be made fun of for old, dirty clothes" and crescendoed with the proclamation that he has been accepted to Samford University. He ended with a challenge to the youth and his final words brought the audience to its feet: "Yes we can."

As one of the 40 plus choir members, I wasn't there to showcase my beautiful voice (it's not) or to be seen (I feel awkward on stage). I was there for one purpose: to sing my heart out for the award recipients and for the crowd that gathered to honor them.

Though the night was long, I left filled with energy and stayed up discussing the highlights of the evening and laughing with friends.

When I finally crawled into bed, I fell asleep with a companion I cherish—contentment.

Txt 4 dummies

If your children are anything like Greg Hardesty's daughter in California, who sent 14,528 texts in one month, you may be interested in what they're saying...and how. At that rate, each letter is important, so teens shorten words and phrases as much as possible.

Just as teens have done for generations, they've created a language that locks parents out. Perhaps that wasn't the purpose, but it's a bonus, no doubt. With the help of two brave teens, I've gathered a list of some common text shortcuts and their meanings. My contributors shall remain anonymous for their own safety and have gone into government protection for revealing this information.

O, n btw, yw 4 da info. L8r!


lol--lots of laughs/ laugh out loud
ttyl--talk to you later
nvm--never mind
b4--before
bf--boyfriend
bff--best friends forever
btw--by the way
idk--I don't know
ilu--I love you
ne--any
ppl--people
rotfl--rolling on the floor laughing
ur--your/you're
wtf--I'll let you guess this one
brb--be right back
sup/wassup--what's up
jk--just kidding
jp--just playing
gtg--gotta go
idc--I dont care
np--no problem
lmk--let me know
ty--thank you
b--be
n--in
c--see
da--the
dat--that
srry--sorry
wrry--worry
dint--did not
dnt--don't
idts-I dont think so
lirl--laugh in real life
tbh--to be honest
ftw--for the win
atm--at the moment
yw--you're welcome

Three Cups of Tea

My gut instinct about this book was absolutely right.

I finished it. I loved it. I recommend it.

Air and Simple Gifts

I am sitting in the Interpretive Center--a museum that celebrates the struggle for, and the eventual passing of, the Voting Rights Act of 1965. The museum sits about halfway between Selma and Montgomery, Alabama--on the road that paved Obama's road to office.

I sit with 150 high school students and a handful of their teachers. The room is silent except sniffles and cheers.

The handful of remaining people are the foot soldiers of the movement, volunteers from the Freedom Foundation, park rangers, reporters and producers.

Today, Barack Obama holds the attention of each of them.

Three Cups of Tea

I first heard of Three Cups of Tea through a recommendation on Amazon and was hooked by the review's first line: "Some failures lead to phenomenal successes, and this American nurse's unsuccessful attempt to climb K2, the world's second tallest mountain, is one of them."

The review describes how the nurse, Greg Mortenson, was cared for by Balti villagers, and, moved by their kindness in the midst of great poverty, promised to build them a school. It is the story of the challenges and dangers he faced as he strove to fulfill the promise and the decade-long crusade that sprang from a perceived failure.

I put the book on my BookMooch wish list for a later date (bestsellers aren't usually available on the fantastic book-swapping site for a long time). But, when I visited a friend's house the next day, I saw it on her coffee table. Intrigued by its second appearance in my life in just two days, I read the introduction to the first chapter: "Failure: When it is dark enough, you can see the stars."

I've only reluctantly put it down a few times since.

Between in Between?

Where exactly is between in between?

Since the group has contact information on its website, I sent an email and gave a fair chance to fix this particular error before posting it. Oh well.

Masterful Landing, Not So Masterful Proofreading

Wow, what an amazing story and an amazing captain too. Congrats to the pilot and passengers!

I just wish the proofreading had been as phenomenal as the landing.

Hope Against Hope

Yesterday, I posted an article and applauded the author’s hope—a hope that I have personally seen endure even the most trying circumstances.

Today, I received another rejection letter for my story—a story of hope against all odds. This time, the editor included a personal comment, so I’m going to step out there and ask for some feedback.

I hope she’ll write back. I hope I get the story published somewhere.

I hope.

When it is dark enough, you can see the stars. --Persian proverb

Cynthia Gibson, the subject of Monday's sonnet, wrote an article for Teaching Tolerance called Lies Our Students Tell Themselves.

Check it out for an example of one of my favorite qualities about Cynthia: hope.

Sonnet Form

A Shakespearean sonnet is 14 lines long and consists of three quatrains (stanzas with four lines) and one couplet (stanza with two lines) at the end. The poem follows a rhythm of iambic pentameter, which means that there are five "feet" per line. The feet are made up of two syllables with the stress on the second (da-dum). The rhyme scheme is abab, cdcd, efef, gg, which means that lines with the same letter rhyme.

This may seem like a strict formula, but the Italian and petrarchan sonnets are even stricter!

Don't let the Shakespeare label or the form stop you from giving it a shot. It's a fun challenge. Our goal yesterday was to have a little fun and celebrate a good friend. We accomplished that even though it's not in perfect iambic pentameter.

The mystery co-authors are Meredith and Kylie, who would have been mentioned it in the poem if their names were easier to put in iambic pentameter.

A Sonnet for Cynthia

She is a teacher with a heart of gold
who treats her students as her very own.
And if she'd dress her age she might seem old,
but she's so hip she lets them text her phone.

She wears her hair up in a messy do--
it's red and rich, and wild as a bee.
And though her skin is fair and her eyes blue,
"her" people aren't just those that look like she.

She knows that line is right though some wonder--
her language skillz are second to no one.
These lines filled up and went by like a blur--
with so much left to say, we're almost done.

The three of us (we'll tell you later who) just wrote a birthday poem 'cuz we love you.

Alter or Altar?

Check out the last line of this review. The album's title is actually The Altar and the Door.

Note to iTunes--don't alter album titles.

Selma Community Chorus

I'm not exactly a natural singer or hip hopper. So I was already feeling out of my element when I showed up for Selma Community Chorus on Thursday. The group will perform for the Third Annual Dr. King Celebration. I let the sign-up sheet go right past me the first time, thinking maybe I'd just slip out if it got a little too far past my comfort zone.

Then I heard that there would be choreography too. Yep, dancing AND singing. I almost knocked over the metal chairs as I stumbled for the exit. Fortunately, I remembered from previous experience with the director, Amanda, that she is much more interested in heart and attitude than in perfect pitch. That stopped me from walking out the door. That, and Kim's iron grip on my arm. Kim helped me find the notes and I finally signed my name to the sheet.

No matter what the song, Amanda stomps, jumps, sways and closes her eyes as she feels the music. She sets the example and swears that if we'll just commit to the note, the dance move, the emotion and power of the moment, we'll look right doing it (even if we're wrong). Not just right, but good actually.

I figured if I was going to be there, I may as well follow the director's direction. So I sang and stomped and closed my eyes when I felt the harmony.

And I showed up for practice again today.

Bad Boys, Bad Boys

Today, my friend Kelly was sworn in as an officer for the Selma Police Department. For months, she's endured physical and psychological tests, panel reviews, interviews and a background check. Though she's always dreamed of serving and protecting, she wasn't sure she had the discipline.

Last May, she stopped dreaming and started doing. Though there have been discouraging days, she's continued. She regularly rises at 5 am to go to the gym, she installed a pull-up bar in her closet and she watches her fair share of **Cops. When she brought her first target home from the firing range, it was riddled with holes in all the right places. Kel's got some aim, y'all!

She's even gotten a little practice with handcuffing....me. When I asked if she wanted me to struggle, she threatened to pull out her baton so I contented myself by singing, "Bad boys, bad boys. Whacha gonna do..."

**I'd issue myself a grammar citation for not underlining Cops, but this site won't let me underline.

Cornelia Wallace and Annie Cooper

I was rifling through family photos and old newspaper articles with Ms. Annie Cooper when breaking news came on in the background: Cornelia Wallace died today. Cornelia was the second wife of former Alabama governor, George Wallace. Wallace delivered his most famous line at his inauguration in 1963: "In the name of the greatest people that have ever trod this earth, I draw the line in the dust and toss the gauntlet before the feet of tyranny, and I say segregation now, segregation tomorrow, segregation forever."

To whom he was referring as "the greatest people" is left up for interpretation, but I don't believe he was referring to Ms. Annie Cooper and the other African Americans who stood in voter registration lines in 1965.

A large mounted copy of the Selma Times Journal article that describes the confrontation between Ms. Cooper and another staunch segregationist, Jim Clark, sat on the table in front of us as we visited.

Ms. Cooper paid the newscast little mind and went on pointing out her children, nieces and nephews.

Pick Me! Pick Me!

Today, I wrote an essay about why Obama should choose me as one of the ten regular folks to attend his swearing in. The only trouble was narrowing it down!

A year and a half ago, it would have been a much shorter essay (if I'd even written it in the first place)!

For more on this subject, check out my previous posts--A Historic City, A Historic Vote and Buzzwords Blog on Hope and Change.

If I am selected, you'll be seeing some very interesting material on this here site. If I'm not, you'll still see interesting material. Either way--check back often!

P.S. I'm going to let you in on one of my favorite language tricks: when you're not sure how to spell a word and you're publishing/emailing from a mobile device, find an alternative (like "swearing-in" instead of inauguration). Did I get that right?

Road Trippin'

*One "party bus" (a rockin' minivan)
*One rainstorm
*One stinkin' skunk
*One photo with a four-year-old's head on Superman's body
*One diner
*One slice of cheesecake at diner
*A missing left slipper
*A handful of photos in a pickle costume (also at diner)
*Two kids under five
*Two quick stops so the 4 year old could "make a fountain" on the side of the road
*Four adults
*Five cans/bottles/cups of soda
*Six animated movies
*Seven scoops of gelato
*Eight cups of coffee
*Nine meltdowns for the children under five (with increasing frequency towards the 27th hour)
*A handful of near meltdowns for the adults over 25
*Ten+ full stops (I lost count)
*11 major highways
*12 bags of chips, cookies, fruit snacks, and rainbow goldfish
*1,400 miles
*And 27 hours

To home.

The Teppers Building in Selma, Alabama: A Diamond in the Rough

Something special is happening on 25 Broad St. For the past year, volunteers of the Freedom Foundation have made tremendous steps forward in stabilizing, restoring and updating the Tepper’s Building, a historic landmark in Selma, Alabama. The first week of September, 2008 was labeled among volunteers as a “Tepper’s Push” because many took time off their jobs and even traveled from out of state at their own expense to join the work effort.

A.J. Page, the architect for the project, described some of the recent architectural efforts which include exposing the original structure on the first two floors and removing the non load-bearing exterior façade. In addition to this visible progress, Page also led a team in exposing load-bearing beams and columns for structural analysis.

A team of local painters worked day and night to brighten up the exterior with a fresh coat of paint. Inside the building, the gutting and cleaning continues, a tedious but necessary part of preparing the building to house the “Fresh Start Café” and the Youth Leadership Institute.

Though the Freedom Foundation has run into many obstacles along the way due to weather and extensive water and Termite damage in the building, the vision for a fresh start for the building and the community has remained strong and encouraged people to continue through difficult news and daunting tasks. Despite the many challenges, volunteers continue to show up on their evenings and weekends to pitch in.

People with little to no construction experience have put their backs and hearts into the demolition work. One notable volunteer, who is wheelchair bound, could be seen at the work site stripping copper wires for recycling. Her inspiration and smile gave other volunteers a morale boost. Perhaps this is one of the reasons why Roger Hendershot, one of the leaders on the project, was much more interested in talking about the people at Tepper’s than about the physical progress: “There is something to be said about what’s happening among the people working at Tepper’s. There is something special as we all offer our time and efforts in a spirit of charity.” That spirit shines through with Ms. Debra as she strips those wires and with many others who encourage each other, smile and laugh as they labor in a filthy and hot environment.


One day during this “Tepper’s Push,” I was busy exposing a termite-damaged beam for architectural review. I was wearily chipping away at it and wiping sweat from my eyes when Matt Skelton approached me. Skelton, who volunteers when he is not wearing blue for the Selma PD, is known for his cheerfulness and energy which shine through even difficult labor and long hours. He had come to give me a “present.” I was immediately suspicious, just as I would have been if one of my big brothers had done the same. When he handed me a lump of coal, I laughed and chucked it back at him. I moved on, but Matt was trying to tell me something.

I finished my shift and returned home for the kind of satisfying shower, meal and nap that can only come after a day of hard physical labor. Hours later, Matt showed up at my door, dirtier than when I had left him and no doubt tired and hungry, but with a bigger smile on his face too. He told me I’d forgotten something and handed me the lump of coal.

Enough pressure, time, and heat can turn something ugly into something beautiful if it stays in the process. Yes, Matt, I get what you’re saying and I believe.

The Epitome of Irony

I have yet to see anything more ironic than this story: Man Who Pushed for Program to Fight Bicycle Theft Has Bike Stolen.

Don't get me started on Alanis Morrisette's song that should be renamed "Isn't it Too Bad."

Be Yourself!

Rumor has it that being a writer or any sort of artist (artiste if you want to be pretentious) gives you license to be quirky.

You can wear your hair short and spiky, and even dye it with purple streaks (if that's your thing). You can wear old tennis shoes with an otherwise hip outfit, including a trench coat and funky glasses. You can wear black socks with short pants and you can have LOTR marathons (extended edition, of course).

But hey, I say be yourself whether you're an artiste or an accountant. Even if that means wearing Spider Man undies under your three-piece suit.

Procrastination

It's 9:24 pm and I have a deadline tomorrow.

So I'm blogging.

I'm also watching Action Jackson and Flashy Ferrari do dog tricks on Oprah. And then there's Maggie the Jack Russell Terrier who can add, subtract, multiply and divide. Seriously.

Reminds me of college. My apartment was never cleaner than when I had an essay due.

Buzzwords Blog on Change and Hope

The word change is all around us—on bumper stickers, t-shirts and in stirring speeches. But for Freedom Foundation volunteers, it is more than just something we say—it is something we make. We’ve created change every day for the last two years in Selma, Alabama—the same Selma where Civil Rights workers and foot soldiers created a new future by marching for the right to vote. Though legislative changes are clear and powerful; opportunity, prosperity, and unity still elude this rural city in the Deep South. It is hard to imagine that a town with such a rich history could still have a segregated country club and segregated schools and churches. But in Selma, it is a reality. Neo-confederate hate groups are deeply rooted in the community. Over half of the families in Selma’s Dallas County made less than $30,000 in 2006 and the county has the second highest teenage pregnancy rate in the state. Change is still needed in Selma, Alabama.

Hope drove marchers to face a sea of men in blue uniforms on Bloody Sunday. And they changed the future forever. Change is happening in Selma through hope, one life at a time. Hope isn’t just a word that we use carelessly. It is what drives volunteers to serve the community. Freedom Foundation volunteers have painted local classrooms, playground equipment and churches. They’ve volunteered countless hours to labor in the Tepper’s building, working in hope at a future youth institute and community center. The hours are long and the labor is hard.

But ask the young people who have been changed by their involvement in the youth activities with the Freedom Foundation if the work has been in vain. Ask the local high school senior who recently received his acceptance letter to Samford University, when just over a year ago he said he was “too poor and too black” to go to college.

Hope is that still small voice that rises above cynicism and tells you that change is possible, that we CAN make a difference. Yes, we can. And at the Freedom Foundation, we do. Hope is what inspires our volunteers to give, serve, love and sacrifice. And, as Obama said, “There is nothing false about hope.”

Commonly Confused Words: Clever versus Cleaver

That's one clever meat murder suspect.

"Nuff said.

Freedom Foundation Paints Selma One Wall at a Time

With Christmas tunes on their lips and paintbrushes in their hands, Freedom Foundation volunteers recently took on their sixth painting project for the Selma community.

Painters included amateurs from Keith and Selma High, and Terry Armstrong, a veteran painter who has painted more homes, classrooms, and churches than she can count.

Volunteers of all ages and singing abilities sang Christmas tunes and harmonized on Bob Marley as they stood on desks, chairs and the occasional ladder to reach the tops of the walls. Some cut in around the edges and some refilled paint trays and water bottles to keep the operation running smoothly. “It was good to see all the volunteers working together" Armstrong said.

Armstrong added, "It does my heart good to know that the Freedom Foundation is doing these kinds of projects for the kids. Most of the schools are in dire conditions from a visual standpoint." In a time of cutbacks in education budgets, aesthetic projects like these often go overlooked even though studies show a link between a positive school environment and better test scores.

Whether their scores go up or not, Armstrong is "excited the students will come back from Christmas break to the smell of fresh paint.”

Mark Duke, president of the Foundation, said, “People talk a lot about the condition of the schools. It’s important to get out there and improve them when the opportunity comes up.”

Cool Cause, Bad Grammar

This site seeks to "make the world a better place, one gift at a time." (changingthepresent.org) What a fantastic cause!

I'd feel bad using such a cool site as a bad example if I didn't think its presence here might also gain some positive attention for its cause.

The mistake involves a troublesome apostrophe: "a holistic package addressing all the barriers that girls' face to ensure educational success." The apostrophe after girls is unnecessary because it's simply referring to more than one girl. We all learned our basic plural rules in elementary school, and this one is about as basic as they come. Say it with me now...if there's more than one of something you add an s! And that's it. It's not, "add an s and then throw an apostrophe in there somewhere."

While we're on the subject, let's discuss a common misconception about those Christmas cards you've been folding, sealing and addressing. No apostrophe necessary in the recipient's name. More than one Gibson (for example) at the home? Cool--add an s. Don't add an arbitrary apostrophe and leave the recipients wondering what should follow. The Gibson's what? The Gibson's house? The Gibson's cat??

We've covered a lot of grammar ground here. Now go make the world a better place, one charitable gift and one appropriately-used plural rule at a time.

An Everyday Error

A recent email to Obama-Biden supporters demonstrates an everyday error. We've discussed this before, so refer back to November 11th for another example.

Do you see the problem here? Everyday is an adjective (and therefore modifies a noun). Every day, on the other hand, is a description of frequency.

Therefore, the highlighted word in the email here should be two words.

Need a handy trick? As a former English teacher, it just so happens that I have one.
*If you can substitute each day then it should be two words.
--I find grammatical errors every day.
*If it modifies a noun, it should be one word.
--Finding grammatical errors is an everyday activity.