FlipSide:Starting September 3, 2001

A journal of the trials, tribulations, and triumphs in the life of a woman in the 21st century.

(ed- Here we go again. Someone's pooped, someone's hogging the computer, and someone will be back tomorrow. Unless we're schizophrenic, that's her, me, and her (though I hope to return tomorrow as well)... wait a minute - who said that last bit? (who was that masked man?) It's getting weird here (GETTING?) - AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeee <fades into distance> -- jd.)

So sorry I have been inflicting my spouse's manias upon you whenever I am absent from this space. But his hallucinogenic ramblings are preferable to nothing, now aren't they? Ahem, aren't they?

Well, school started here today. At the Dominik asylum, tradition holds that school age children are dropped off and picked up from school by the parents on the first and last days of the school year. This year, both Daddy and Mommy took her to school. Rhiannon was all excited and had her outfit picked out a week ahead of time. Jumper with matching plaid hair bow and plaid trimmed ankle-socks were the order of the day. Along with her new Reeboks, of course. (Hey, before you start with that brand name crap and the cost of Reebok shoes, I got 'em at 75% off, way better than what I would have spent at Targét Boutique for shoes that would have worn out 1/2 way through the school year!) Right now she is thrilled to be wearing her uniform. That will wear off about, oh, say, next week.

Just over Rhiannon's right shoulder is the table at which she sits in class. (The table has been cut out of the picture to preserve what remains of her father's sanity.) As boys out-number girls again this year, Rhiannon is currently the lone girl at a table full of boys. Daddy was not terribly pleased with this development. He was even more displeased when the apple of his eye squealed "Alex!" Yes, the love her life (at this moment, anyway) was sitting right across from her. Daddy was heard muttering "dead man walking" as he left the school. I keep telling him someday his daughter will have sex. "Yes, but I'll be dead then," is his stock reply.

(ed- Damned right. As will the first half-dozen little turds who try with my daughter... -- jd).

Another tradition is the "big cookie". (As the yellow and orange icing is a little hard to read in the picture, it says "Welcome to 2nd Grade.) Hey, starting school is a big deal aroun here. Jack can't wait to start next year. Of course, we have warned Rhiannon's kindergarten teacher that she may want to consider retirement or a sabbatical next year.

When school got out today, John wasn't sure what to do with his eldest offspring. What would they both enjoy? Well, John was fresh out of ideas and punted, so they headed for the nearest mall. Rhiannon got a book of short excerpts of classics (Tom Sawyer, Huckleberry Finn, The Little House series, etc.) for her 15 minute a night reading homework. Tonight she read an excerpt from Huckleberry Finn. Pretty impressive for a 7 year old, even if it took her about 45 minutes to read the 2 1/2 pages. I quizzed her after she read it and she understood what she read about.

The other major purchase was a sweatshirt they picked up for me. Eeyore, Popular Pessimist. Eeyore always was my favorite Pooh character. John says that explains so much.

Jack has continued his rather alarming semi-weekly waking nightmares. Through a reader on John's site, we have a name for these dreams, Night Terrors. Jack seems to fit all the symptoms listed on the site he sent us. He basically sleep-walks (okay, it is actually more of a trot or an all-out run) from his room, seeking me, it seems, since he responds when I call to him. Then we try to cuddle and calm him. Waking him seems to be the only way to really calm him, although some people think it makes the situation worse. John has had some success calming him by making him laugh. Then he wakes up, cuddles for a while, and is more than happy to return to his bed. He never has any memory of the dreams. In fact, he sometimes will seem bewildered as to how he got into our room. Since the dreams happen before he drops into REM sleep, it has always been before we are asleep, usually when he is overtired.

Gee, I always thought sleepwalking only happened in movies or as a trumped-up legal defense for offing your mother-in-law.

Some people are just too stupid to live. They should be summarily voted off the planet, not just a damn island. (Included in that category should be anyone who even considered going on a reality TV show.) Several cases of these scream out at me from the news lately.

CASE 1: MOMMY DEAREST
A week or so back, John mentioned in his posting the two soon to be convicted felons, who, after attending a KKK rally on the Minnesota Capitol steps (imagine the good that would have been done for the gene pool if the Earth has suddenly opened up and swallowed all eight of the idiots attending) decided to whack on a 4 year old biracial child. [Gee, fair fight there, huh? We know the kid is a towering intellect compared to those two idiots. Maybe that explains the attack, the kids used a one syllable word that those thugs didn't understand and they beat on him rather than admit their ignorance.] The really sick part is the kid was the child of one of the offender's girlfriend, so the kid probably trusted the guy. You would think that the mother of this child would, at the very least, be the EX-girlfriend of the idiot that picked a fight with her four year old. Nah. Apparently she is the forgiving sort and bailed that jackass out of jail. Excuse me? Unless she bailed him out with the express intention of cutting of his testicles and feeding them to him in a stew, I find her conduct bordering on abuse. What's the kid supposed to think? This guy beat me up and Mommy brought him home again? I really hope that child protection is checking out this woman.

CASE 2: FISH IS FISH
Much has been made in the media of the recent shark attacks in Florida and North Carolina. As horrible as an attack by a shark must be, what kind of idiot swims around and steps over sharks they see in the ocean in order to go surfing? It doesn't take a genius for the survival instinct kick in and say, "Gee, that's the third dorsal fin I've seen and I'm pretty sure it's not Flipper, so I think I'll go play some mini-golf and come back another time." If you are dodging sharks in search of that perfect wave and then get bit, don't come crying to me. I'm on the shark's side.

CASE 3: I DON'T WANT THAT UGLY UNIFORM IN FRONT OF MY HOUSE
Affairs in Belfast Northern Ireland have hit yet another all time low. (Soon to be exceeded, I'm sure. Sometimes the situation there seems like a game of oneupsmanship by a couple of playground bullies.) Now a Protestant militia is targeting Catholic school girls. A mortal threat to their well-being, I'm sure. Apparently the Protestants in this majority Catholic neighborhood have taken to demonstrating, and other more graphic behavior, in front of the local Catholic girls school, as they feel they are being harassed by Catholic militia groups in the area. They say that they will leave the children in peace as soon as the Catholics leave their homes alone. So, yelling epitaphs and hurling rocks at 4-10 year old girls school girls and their mothers is a good plan? Yeah, that will really get them to leave ya' alone. Then one of the more extreme Protestant militias decides to get involved and hurled a pipe bomb at them today, injuring a police officer. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. And it gets better. Apparently the school had a back entrance that they opened up for the girls to come in to avoid the demonstrators up front, but most of the parents elected not to use it. Hmmm . . . let's see. Expose my small daughter to taunts, insults, rocks, and bombs to show my contempt for the Protestants or keep her safe and go in the back door. Gee, you would think that was a no-brainer, wouldn't you?

CASE 4: THE CASE OF THE MISSING LAWN SIGNS
In local St. Paul politics, Jay Benanav for Mayor signs had been disappearing out of yards on the East Side of St. Paul. One home-owner had apparently had enough of this brand of late night politicking and got out his hand-dandy camcorder. And before you can say "Rodney King", a fairly well-known supporter of Benanav rival State Senator Randy Kelly was recorded for posterity stealing the yard signs. Tsk, tsk. That won't help the campaign. Kelly for Dog-Catcher, anyone?

CASE 5: I'M NOT SLEEPY AND I'LL SCREAM UNTIL YOU BELIEVE ME (or at least until I fall asleep . . .)
On the home front, my four-year-old decided that the best way to convince me that he was not tired and should be rewarded for his behavior by a slice of big cookie was to scream and stamp and generally pitch a complete conniption fit. Beeeeep. Wrong Answer. Thank you for playing. Pull your blankey over your head and say goodnight Gracie. At least he has the excuse that he is four and will (we hope) grow out of it.

In doing back to school shopping for my daughter, I have noticed a rather alarming trend. Now, perhaps I am getting old, but it really seems to me that suggestive clothing is being marketed to younger and younger girls. Girls my daughter's age. Low riding, hip hugger jeans and teeshirts that say "Hottie" or "Baby" in glitter across the chest are not my idea of grade school attire. Yet that is what I am finding in many girls' sections. Especially in JCPenney. In fact, that was almost exclusively what I found in that store when I was shopping for dress clothes for my kids to wear to their uncle's wedding a couple of weeks ago. Granted other stores also carried what I would term as "trailer trash chic" for the preteen set, none carried as much of it, or as little ordinary clothing, as JCPenney. Is this the result of the trashy look of teenage pop princesses Christina Aquilera and Britney Spears? Are we really in such a hurry to have our children grow up that we are putting little girls in teeshirts that proclaim their sexuality before they are even sure of what it means? There is a world of difference between a 16 year old wearing tight teeshirts and low-rider jeans and an 8 year old doing the same thing. I am appalled and frightened. I had to explain to my 7 year old the other day that I didn't think Britney Spears was a very good role model for her. Try answering the "why" to that one.

We recently entered the 21st century here in Burnsville with the connection of digital cable. Now, instead of 70 channels with nothing on, I have 90 channels. And still half the time I end up watching the broadcast networks anyway. Although the kids really like the Disney Channel. When I let them watch it. And I am looking forward to the Biography Channel.

Did you know that carrots that you get from the farmer's market will start to liquefy after a few days if you don't take them out of the sealed plastic bag? I didn't either. Oops. Just pitched that little bag. No need to let the smell outta that one.

Today at work we took a trip down memory lane. A little stroll though late 1970's and early 1980's pop culture. It all started with one of our VP's trying to remember the name of Mighty Mouse's girlfriend. I had never seen Mighty Mouse, except for in commercials, so I had no idea. (Her name was Pearl Pureheart, by the way.) Which brought to mind the many weekend mornings wasted away in front of the television watching cartoons. There was Underdog with his faithful girl Polly Purebread. The Super Friends, including Superman, Batman, Robin, Aqua Man, Wonder Woman, and of course, the Wonder Twins ("Wonder Twin Powers, Activate"). And Land of the Lost (do you remember the Sleestacks?). Now all those cartoons look so cheesy. But, then again, they weren't just long commercials for action figures, either.

Today the FBI announced that they had used DNA to matched a hair found in a car to Jimmy Hoffa. Said car that had been lent to a close friend of Hoffa's the day he disappeared. A friend who, of course, has been denying for more than 20 years that Hoffa was ever in the car. My first thought is gee, with friends like that . . . Now, if they could just find a body to match that hair up to, they might just have something. Apparently the FBI has a goal to prosecute the case by of 2003. So, ya think they are going to dig up Giant's Stadium?

(ed- Hush, woman, or the Vikings will volunteer to have their stadium torn down to look for the body. Of course, the Giants will no doubt use it as a reason for a new stadium down the road... -- jd)

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Copyright © 2001 Ann Dominik. All rights reserved. Complaints about the technical details of this page can be directed to the abused geek who takes care of it for me, and is grossly underpaid for what he does, he thinks. No reproduction without written permission. The opinions and content of this site are my own, and not the responsibility of this site's host, my employer, my pets, my parents or anyone else you may care to blame. Please respect my opinions and I will do the same for you. I may on occasion publish e-mail to me; if you do not wish your mail to be published, please write CONFIDENTIAL or DO NOT PUBLISH at the top of the e-mail. If you would prefer to remain anonymous, please note that as well. If you're incapable of reasoned civilized discourse but feel compelled to correspond with me, I'll be happy to filter your mail out after a few choice comments regarding your ancestors, upbringing, and the likelihood of your family tree not