A minor friendship rant.

Everyone has a crisis that requires immediate attention at one point, or several, during their lives. I'll understand if you have to cancel lunch the morning of our date if you are having a crisis of some sort, like your washing machine broke and flooded your place; your self/family/cat/dog/finch has a medical emergency; your car breaks down; etc.

My sympathy is stretched a bit thin when you're cancelling because you have a meeting from 8:30AM - 12:30PM and they're serving you lunch AND you email me that morning to tell me you have to cancel.

What am I? Second-hand to a free lunch? I find it very hard to believe that you'd find out about a half-day meeting the morning of that meeting. It would have been nice to call me the night before, at least. ::grumble::

Okay, ranting aside, fortunately I am free now for lunch today as Dana wants to take me out in appreciation for the PowerPoint work I did for her earlier this week. Her boss's boss and her boss's boss's boss were in town and I offered to help her out with their meeting. Thanks to my friend who bailed on me, I can take Dana up on her offer. We're going to Palomino's today for salad. With bleu cheese.

Rob and I picked up the hutch to his desk last night. We may work on it this weekend. Phil especially loves to put together this sort of furniture, as I have lots of it and he's had practice.

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Sometimes uncharitable thoughts slip unbidden into my mind.

Our office has adopted a family for the holidays. Their wish list hangs in the lunch room. I looked it over yesterday. Three adults, five children, ranging from 10 on down, and a brand new baby. The uncharitable thought: "Hmm. What they really need is a big box of condoms."

::sigh::

The mind is so quirky that way. Inside we think things that wouldn't say to people. I would never buy these folks a box of condoms; that's cruel and mean. But into my mind the evil thought came followed by embarassment that I'd even think of such a thing, as though anyone near could have read my mind.

To make up for my commandeering The Sims, I convinced Rob to buy Black and White so he could be a god in his own right. Black and White allows the player to choose how he will interact with the villagers, either in a good way or in a bad way. Those who know Rob have heard him make some pretty sharp comments about things. I figured that he might enjoy blasting a few villagers but he started playing the game as a "good" god, saying "Oops!" and "Sorry!" when he accidentally flung a village child into a wall. He makes comments aloud that echo the sentiments of the "bad" conscience but his actions are those lauded by the "good" one.

The other day, I finally found a sheep ornament. It was $18, but there were only three of them in the store and this was the third shop I'd visited. I brought it home and put it on Rob's desk. Yesterday, he found for me a book I've always wanted and put it on my desk for me to find when I came home.

When I first started working in the big game, I was frightened by Rob. He seemed so mean! He didn't take crap from anyone! He was so powerful! One day my bard and ranger stumbled upon him playing the game last year and enticed him to go hunting with us -- because I knew him from the past and was so pleased to have run into someone I knew from before. Wandering around together for that hour or so helped me shed some of that awe (after all, how long can one be in awe of someone who needs your help to navigate warfs?) and paved the way for the romance that started later.

I guess in the long way around, I remember how he appeared to be and how I thought he was one way and turned out I was completely wrong. The family our company adopted probably isn't what my flighty thought of them is at all; I have nothing to go on but their wish list. They asked for clothes and blankets, not a new TV or Nintendo games or a trip to Hawaii.

Perhaps if we could keep ourselves from jumping to conclusions we wouldn't strangle ourselves in the fall.

Ditto on Corey, Steph.

I'm not sure why I think somehow Corey will be even more flabbergasted to find herself "inspirational" as much as she was surprised to find herself the highlight of a prayer chain.

Just goes to show how one can never predict the impact one will have on others' lives. It's a wonderful life, indeed, how everyone is entwined with each other.

Although I am not as inspired yet as Steph...I have not been getting up to exercise as I should.

A kiss and a hug for my beloved kiltboy.

Before I use the Sheep Launcher... ::hugs:: Broos

Today's tale -- The Trip to Leavenworth, or Where Are The Sheep?

Any car trip is exciting, so long as I'm not the one driving. Rob and I, after the usual newlywed tussles, decided that our "rule" is whoever drives picks the radio station. Unfortunately, one night I was listening to a song and Rob changed the station (he was driving) and I shrieked and switched it back, thus violating our rule. Before this trip, I loaded up with some Christmas CDs and tossed in a lone country music CD and headed to the car. Rob raised his eyebrow and mentioned our rule, going on and on about how he gets to choose the station and that for the next three hours I'm at his mercy...to which I growled, "Oh, dry up."

The trip started out in lovely humor.

It's a lovely drive (once Rob relented and we put on the Christmas music), up through the Cascades. The snow on the mountains looks like a dusting of sugar done with a template, as all the peaks' snow ends at the exact same line. As we neared the pass, we were suddenly within this snowline and I fretted about the road. Rob asked if I were concerned about his driving since he's driven in snow a lot more than I have. "That's true," I said. "And you drove when the roads were snowy like this when we went to the Grand Canyon." ((which readers may recall is when a semi drove us off the road into the ditch)) "Oh, thanks for bringing that confidence builder up," snorted my husband.

Leavenworth has styled itself as a Bavarian village, with half-timbered buildings and men in liederhosen wandering the streets. Rob and I had lunch then proceeded to look into the shops, searching for the perfect ornament for our first Christmas together. Rob objected to those "Our First Christmas" ones and at one point when he didn't follow me out of a shop quickly enough, I commented that perhaps we'd be better served by one titled "Our Last Christmas."

Despite searching every store, however, we did not see a single ornament with our family icon, the sheep. One particularly well-stocked ornament shop had gorillas, lions and peacocks. Rob found a sheep-like figure and we were pleased. Then Rob flipped it over ("It's a sheep; of course I have to check its backside.") and found that it was really a polar bear. The shop clerk was no help. "Sheep aren't in style; this year, it's pigs."

In this same shop, we read the legend of the Christmas Pickle on the box of bright green glass pickles. It says that if you found the pickle on the tree, your parents would give you a special little gift. I said it was more likely that the original pickle was actually a dildo and that mom and dad were pulling the old "magic bay leaf" save that I used with my kids.

After searching through the last shop and coming out sheepless, we headed home. As we drove home, Rob commented about how he hates people who are never satisfied with anything and always complain. I patted his knee to say, "I love you even if you are that way," and he groused, "Oh, dry up."

It's always a good thing when a trip begins and ends with the same joke. :)

There's lots of shops in Seattle and I'm determined to find our ornament. So maybe we're not stylish. We're unique!

Oh! And as a footnote, I did not use that financial cheat code Rob has...everything my Sims have they earned! I didn't even resort to selling gravestones!

We had a lovely long weekend. The turkey turned out rather nicely, the gravy was perfect and the pecan pie (the kind you make with a bottle of caramel topping) was lovely!

You will note that I didn't post anything at all over the past few days. This is all Rob's fault, naturally. For you see, he hath corrupted me with a vile sickness and hath no remorse.

He let me borrow his copy of The Sims.

In between dashing to the mall on Friday for a few hours and our run out to Leavenworth (the one in the Cascades, not the one in Kansas -- and I'll go into more about this trip another day) on Saturday, I did nothing but work on those Sims. ::sigh:: And, mind you, when we weren't running or dashing, I was kerplunked before my computer, totally mesmerized by the interactions of these little people.

My first family is the Goobers, Drab and Lael. Drab caught fire cooking dinner one night while Lael was at work, causing me quite a bit of consternation as, until that point, I hadn't saved the game. At the time of his culinary disaster, I'd invested a good three hours in their family. Lael was desolated. I had no choice but to start them over again, uncooked. Rob observed that he had never burnt any of his Sims to a crisp.

Sims Part Two. Drab and Lael are doing fine but have hit a career stumbling block; they need to make friends and hardly anyone is coming to visit. I decide to play one of the premade families and encourage them to buddy up. I choose the Newbie family, Bob and Betty. Bob and Betty are pretty poor, it seems, so I send Betty to work. Bob builds a swimming pool. The Goobers don't want to come over, though, so I invite over the other Sim family, the Goths. Bella whoops it up in the kitchen. Mortimer goes swimming with Bob. Bob passes out cold on the stairs leaving the pool and Mortimer, unable to get out, drowns. I'm aghast. Rob chuckled, "Well, that never happened to me before, either." I had saved the game, fortunately, before Mortie's death, but naturally, needed to start over. Again.

Michael Bachelor seemed like a likely premade prospect. He's single; of course he'd want to be friends with Drab -- for remember, I'm doing all this so that Drab can make a friend and get promoted at work. Unfortunately, Michael takes a shine to Lael, who doesn't like him, and Drab doesn't seem to care for him, either. Michael, according to the help window, is lonesome and needs a chick or he'll be too depressed to make any friends. All the existing chicks are married. I need to make him the perfect mate.

Enter Bubbles Friendly (I can come up with cheesy names as easily as they can). Bubbles is awesome. Even I want to be her friend; she has a swimming pool! To make sure that she and Michael can meet and fall in love, I give her the same job he has -- in the military. This strategy works perfectly. They have the same schedule, so they can spend time together. I go between his house and her house, inviting them over back and forth and I realize -- his place is a dump! She's got the better home -- and that pool! Finally, late Saturday night, they were happy enough and friendly enough with each other to get hitched.

Which didn't help me much with Drab and Lael needing friends...so I invited them over. Lael, remembering what a jerk Michael was in his bachelor days, spurned their friendly advances. Drab wasn't too fond of Bubbles and Michael, either. I decided to be the Goths for a bit, so that they could make friends with the Friendlys -- who now needed friends to advance their careers and the Goobers weren't cutting it -- even though they were the ones that started this whole mess.

Anyway...as you can see, it is a tangled and convoluted web, this neighborhood of Sims. By 10:30PM last night, everyone had at least one friend, except for the Newbies. It could be that everyone still holds Mortimer's drowning against them, even though I didn't save the game at that point so he's still alive. ::sigh:: Now I feel bad for them and will likely need to be them for a bit so they too can advance their careers.

Tomorrow -- Sims-willing -- the trip to Leavenworth and the case of the Missing Sheep!

Cooking with Rob and Tracy! Always fun! Always something exciting!

Witness Rob in the kitchen, using Tracy's fake Ginsu knives. He's slicing off some Tillamook medium cheddar to make sandwiches! Unlike other cooks, Rob favors slicing directly through the plastic wrap covering the "baby loaf" and it's causing some consternation! Let's listen in...

Sound effect: braaaap! braaaaap! braaaap!
Tracy (in disgust): What on earth are you doing in there? It sounds like you're passing gas!
Rob: Well, I am cutting the cheese.

This very week, once more our cooks had to hold helplessly onto the countertops as they laughed over a culinary treat. Rob's prepping a lovely pair of rib-eyes (not luciously whiskey-sauteed like Corey's, but fried in an iron skillet) and is searching through Tracy's cooking implements for a particular tool.

Rob: Why don't you have one of those things?
Tracy: What things? Oh, you mean one of those mallets.
Rob: Yeah. I need it to tenderize the steak. Don't you tenderize the steaks first?
Tracy (offended): I don't beat my meat.

Ah, yes. Iron Chef has nothing over the Sheepville cooks who are often funny without meaning to be. Tune in later this week for a report on the First Thanksgiving, where Rob will say, "What do you use this turkey baster for?"

I love to shop. I looooooove to shop, especially for Christmas gifts. I also love shopping early, so that I can relax and enjoy the frenzy around me the rest of the season.

And no, although I did buy a sweater for myself yesterday by accident while getting my sister's gift, I do not shop for myself. Generally.

So far, I have bought Rob his birthday gift(s) and Xmas gift(s). My sister is taken care of as well (hugs!). My boys, after haggling with their father over what he's getting them, Chris will receive a CD player and Phil, his own copy of the Sims (since Rob is loathe to share his copy any more, now that he can cheat at it). For Phil's birthday, he's getting Age of Empires II...which means he won't be using his PC for too much other than games, but oh well. I bought my niece a dress, a shirt and a pair of shorts. My mom is going to get some gift certificates that she can splurge on herself with.

And that's about it. ta da! The other things I get are fillers and fluffy things, so I'm pretty much done. Most of my shopping was done online, which really makes things much easier.

I need to dig through my closets for the rest of my holiday decorations. Christmas is the only holiday that I really do any decorating for, even if I do have a Halloween vampire that sings songs when you make loud noise near it. Last year after Christmas, I happened upon these cute boxes of ornaments that were 2 for 1, at 50% off....so for $5, I got 48 ornaments. Not that I'll have a tree, probably. Not after I took out some fake pine garland from the closet and Rob and I observed Mittens gnawing on it. I think he'll eat a real tree. That might leave me, as it did with my first cat Remington, noticing a pine branch sticking out of his behind and having to chase him all over the house to grasp said branch and pull it out. It wasn't fun once and I don't think it'll be fun now.

Especially if Rob reads this and decides to feed Mittens branches on purpose so he can see this phenomenon for himself.

Saturday, I set the alarm for 2AM. Rob got out of bed first when it went off and scurried off to see if it was worth the rest of us getting out of bed. Of course, I didn't hear him say he was on a recon, so when I got up ten minutes later and he was gone, I pouted. I tossed on my raincoat and was getting ready to go outside myself when he came back and said we'd be able to see the meteor shower from our back porch, albeit not very clearly.

I woke Chris and Phil up and they staggered down the stairs with me. The four of us stood, cricking our necks upwards to scan the skies. Then whoosh! whoosh! whoosh! Meteors! Sure, we couldn't see hundreds of them sailing past, given the light pollution of the neighborhood, but we did get to see quite a few in the five minutes or so we stood out there. It was really neat! Chris was pleased to have seen a couple that looked like comets.

Sunday, our necks already bent permanently upwards, we sat in the very front row to see Harry Potter. I really liked it. I think I enjoyed it most because I hadn't read the books yet... and I love British accents :) Rob said the best thing about it was that we didn't guess "whodunit" although of course, anyone who's read the books would know the answer right off.

Rob has not been keeping up on his journal, as I'm sure many of you noticed. He has been very busy getting to level 50 in readiness for the next EverQuest expansion that comes out. And then of course, there's some cheat code he found for The Sims, so he wants to test it out...it apparently gives them unlimited wealth. My boys used it this weekend themselves and bought gobs of stuff for their Sims family. Ah, the joys of unlimited wealth!

At the grocery store last night, Rob and I bought our first turkey :) It's ten pounds, which seems awful big for just the two of us...but I ADORE turkey leftovers. I am also commissioned to make a pecan pie. The one I did last year turned out rather well; I hope this year's does too.

New and Improved Halloween photos. Well, only a couple of them. But I did promise!

On Halloween when Rob came home, I was already there, having had a half day off to pick up Mittens at the vet's and go to the doctor. He comes in and he starts chuckling. "What's so funny?" I glowered, frowning...and as I frowned I could feel that watch cap on my brow and realized I was still in costume and he hadn't seen it yet that day. :)

I'm feeling conflicted. I guess that's a new agey term for the blues :) I want to have my boys stay with me the week of Christmas, but I have no vacation days left. I emailed Dave and Laura and asked. Laura wrote back that she didn't think it was a good idea for them to be left unsupervised...basically telling me no.

Part of me is really pissed off...after all, Chris is 15 and Phil is going on 12...they're plenty old enough now to leave alone (unlike when Dave and Laura would leave the boys unattended when they were much younger...but oh! did I say that??) with some basic instructions. It's not like I'm going away for the week; I have to go to work and will be out of the house till 5:30PM. As far as I know, the boys will be unsupervised over at their own house for those days anyhow. The other teeny part of me agrees that I'd rather they not be left alone...but I know they would be whether at my home or theirs.

It's times like this that I really wish I hadn't decided that boys belong with their father. My boys really belong with their mother... I don't know how involved their dad is in their lives; their stepmom sure is, though ;)

Yesterday, I wanted to shop. At lunch, in the pouring rain, I scrambled down the street to the Bon for their weekly "one day only" sale. It's sort of a joke around here, because they have one of these sales every week but they are all promoted as one day only.

All the clearance rack stuff was an additional 40 percent off. That's like mostly half-off an already half-off item!

Yet I couldn't find anything that I liked in a price (even on clearance) that I thought was good OR I found the item but couldn't tell if it would ft. Yes, gentle readers, it is the return of the Size Issue, that I thought I had gotten over or at least gotten used to. It depressed me, so I stopped flipping through the racks and wandered aimlessly through the store, ending up buying nothing more than lunch (a low fat salad, like that's going to help now).

When I went to bed last night, both Mittens and Maggie followed me up the stairs. Mittens got under the covers and after experimenting in different spots, decided to curl up against my neck and shoulder. Maggie sprawled out somewhere on top of the covers. When Rob came upstairs, Mittens left voluntarily, knowing he was ready to be kicked out anyhow. Maggie, however, thinks it is Her Royal Right to sleep in my bed. Even through my dreamy/drowsy/asleep haze, I could hear her protesting and arguing with Rob as he assisted her out the door. Some nights, when Rob is in bed before me, he makes me toss her out. "She doesn't yell at you," he says. I think it's more because, like me, he's found that she's good at heating up the bed to just the right cozy, comfy temperature and he doesn't want to get back out once he's curled up with her beside him.

November 15th is the Great American Smokeout. ::glances at a couple of her favorite people in the whole wide world who indulge::

Can you try, at least for one day.... ?

Fall is my favorite season of the year. It's pretty much over here in Sheepville NW. The heavy rains in the past two days will wipe it out completely, pulling the yellow leaves from the big leaf maples lining Pike Street near the office.

It's nice to see so many new developments using deciduous trees. Like my Cosmic Twin now in SoCal, I grew up where there are no real seasons. To me, living in Seattle, every tree that changes is a gift, a mystery and something magical. There's more pines than hardwood trees, but there's enough for me to have the experience of seeing a hillside turn gold or red. Now with these developments trying to incorporate some colors as well, there's that trade off. A clear cut of evergreens becomes a stand of new homes with its streets lined with maples, sweet gums and cherry. One thing for another.

Of course, with the rains, all the lovely shades of fall will wash away and we'll have our dull grey and dark greens for the next few months. And then, magic! Sometime in March, pale faery green will lighten the hills and the cold wind will become kite season and Spring. I planted some bulbs last night in containers for our front porch. I'll need to mulch the tops of the pots; I'm afraid that it might be too cold overwinter outside for them but I'm going to give it a go. We should have some crocuses, daffodils, grape hyacinths and anemones, pushing out green spears followed by pinks and purples and yellows.

That's when Spring becomes my favorite season.

Okay, I've copied over the Publish files for the archives to hook up correctly. Not sure where some of the stuff went, seems I have deleted things off the old PC prematurely. Oh, well! When I get smarter, I'll know how to pull them back off the website and do them up nicely. :)

This weekend, Rob and I put together the desks. Naturally, the shop had to return one of the hutch pieces as it had some broken parts. They did not see fit to call me, so there I was in Liz's van (from which her husband thoughtfully had removed all the extra seats) and the guy walks out with two little boxes. I thought, "Hmm. Overkill!" But that was merely the first load. The van filled up nicely so I felt justified. Still, we'll have to go back later to get the hutch for Rob's desk.

He did most of the physical labor. I don't think he trusted me to get it right, so I was consigned to putting in shelves and those little plastic button things to cover up the screws. Ah, well. He did a good job and my desk looks lovely with the hutch on it. He says his is messy because he hasn't got his hutch yet. Riiiiiight.

Now of course, we're back to back so we can lean over and look at wht the other one's doing. He's playing EQ. Mittens is in my lap, looking at the screen. Maggie is on the couch. The place is quite a mess still, since Melani said she'd come by this weekend to pick up her old desk but she hasn't been and so her desk is down here, plus all the stuff that we can't stuff into our new desks (need a wall unit/bookshelf) and there you have it. At least I have a dining room table once again. I kinda missed it.

I have yet to stop and clean up my blogs. Blech. Fortunately, this is an easy process. Unfortunately, I haven't sat myself down and made time for it.

This morning, I got up early enough to use that most expensive of coat racks, the Orbitrek. I bought it last year, and have used it several times but admittedly, it serves mostly as a hook for my coat or hats. ::sigh:: Last week, however, my doctor firmly stated that if I don't intend to end up diabetic (it runs in my family), I need to exercise briskly for 20 minutes at least three times a week; more if possible.

Oh, it's possible, all right. Just not pleasant. I hate getting sweaty. Still...it's either Orbitrek or continuing to buy clothes in a larger size...and at least the Orbitrek's paid for. :-(

When Rob first moved up here, we would go for walks a couple of times a week. Once he started working, however, we stopped since our schedules were off whack. He'd come home tired and I'd have to log in to work, so we reverted to our usual lazy selves.

It's finding time to exercise that's a real chore. I've determined that the only way I'll be able to do it is to get up earlier than usual. Hitting the snooze button is something I'll have to put in my past, which is unfortunate since I seem to have my most colorful dreams after Rob's alarm goes off but before mine does.

Rob wants us to build our own entertainment center/wall unit, rather than buying the one that matches the desks we bought from Dania (which we get to pick up Friday and screw together -- the desks, naughty readers! -- on Saturday). He bought a book with ideas and a computer program so we can look at our room's dimensions and see how things will fit. After looking through the book, I suggested we might tackle something less ambitious, like a closet organizer. "That way if we screw it up, we can just shut the doors," I said. After all, we'd be stuck staring at the entertainment center, no matter how ugly it turned out. I'm not saying we're not capable of building one...I'd simply be more comfortable if we had at least one completed project that we liked under our belts.

Mittens is not a kitten any longer but he's so much smaller than Maggie, I always think of him as one. Plus, Mittens rhymes with kitten and I like that.

Last week Monday, I took him to the vet's for a declaw. He's been using the back of my couch as his personal scratching post for quite some time; the fabric beneath the slip cover is shredded. The carpet entry to my bedroom is also shredded since he's not allowed in my room overnight and sometimes, he wants to GET IN NOW. Declawing seemed a reasonable approach to keeping the house from falling apart.

He's been fine, I had him sequestered in Chris' room. Friday night, I let him join the rest of us. He was sweet-tempered and loving the whole weekend. Maggie preferred him locked up and she would hiss at him every chance she got. I noticed, however, that she only hissed when he was looking at her. If his head were turned, she'd stare…and if he were close enough, she'd sniff at him. The whole time he was gone, in fact, she'd come up to me and to Rob and yowl, as though trying to alert us that Mittens was missing. Maybe she was gloating.

Yesterday, Rob had already left for work and as is my practice, I arose at a quarter to seven to frantically dash around getting ready. I threw open the bedroom door. Maggie waltzed inside and I noticed dark spots on the hall carpet. When I turned on the light, I was aghast; the spots were obviously blood. I turned the corner and at the bottom of the bloody trail on the stairs sat Mittens, curled in a relaxed loaf-shape, sitting in a little red pond.

As I gathered him up to take to the vet's, I noticed that the living room carpet was soaked through in several places, notably the back of the couch. Mittens had stopped for a snack at some point because there was a pool in the kitchen. He'd also seen fit to traverse the dining room, once by carpet and then via the dining room table. It honestly looked as though someone had fought off a violent attack in my home. And the smell! Hoo, boy…

Mittens somehow snagged open one of his paws after Rob had left for work but before I got up. The vet bandaged it up and sent us home. By the time we got home, Mittens had already dislodged the bandage and was oozing again. I grabbed a first aid kit and bandaged him again. He shook that one off. I put on another one and went to heat up a cup of leftover coffee. Back upstairs, Mittens had shaken that bandage off as well. Finally, I decided to build my own "bell" collar to place around his neck so he'd stop chewing on his hand. With some sturdy plastic shelf liner and mailing tape, he was all set. I put him back into Chris' room and set about cleaning the house. Needless to say, I took the day off work.

Last night, Rob noticed the bell collar and thoughtfully removed it so Mittens could eat. He didn't realize that there wasn't any food or water in the room; I'd removed it after applying the bell collar, knowing that he wouldn't be able to eat. Rob went upstairs and reapplied the collar. A little while later I went upstairs to bring the kitten down so he could eat in the kitchen sans collar before being sequestered for the night.

Have you ever seen Mummenschanz? They do a routine with flexible tubes covering their whole bodies, performing skits by turning and flexing the tubes.

I opened the bedroom door and Mittens rose from the couch, his head encased in a white plastic tube, not unlike the inside of a toilet paper roll. He had to turn his entire body in order to see where I was and peered at me through this tunnel. It reminded me of the Mummenschanz skit and I laughed so hard, I could hardly carry him down the stairs for his dinner. Rob claims that this is how he found Mittens when he first went upstairs. Mmhmm.

So a horrible day ended with a laugh. Except I still have to clean the stairway and hall. ::sigh::

Congrats on the new car, Broos! How exciting!

I have to clean up October's entries and figure out where September's went since they don't appear on the index of my archives. I've installed Publish on the new PC so I should be able to tidy up the presentation some.

Later: How much blood does one kitten have anyway? But not right now...it's still too icky for me to think about.

I've been married to Rob too long. Last night, I displayed (to his glee) Republican leanings. ::sigh::

We had dinner at Applebee's (all you can eat riblets on Tuesdays and Thursdays) which is attached to the mall. After dinner, he wanted to get something at Radio Shack, so we headed into the shops. Note: HE wanted something, not me! :)

In Suncoast Videos, we browsed the shelves. Toward the back of the store, right next to the display of John Wayne Westerns, the shelves from floor-to-ceiling were filled with "Mature" videos. Mature, as in Playboy productions, videos. On the other side of this grouping were the Star Trek series' videos.

I puzzled over this. "Rob, doesn't it seem to you very odd that they'd have these videos where kids couldn't help but see them? I mean, John Wayne...then hooters!" "Oooh! Hooters! Where?"

Seeing no help in that quarter, I puzzled until we reached the register to pay for the Episode One DVD that Rob insisted I wanted. I asked the clerk about the mature video display. Rob stood off to the side, chuckling. I told him to head to Radio Shack where I'd catch up to him. "And miss this? I think not!" he gloated.

He (and the manager he called out) were kind and courteous and I even felt bad for mentioning it. Apparently, all Suncoast shops are set up in a precise pattern given to them by their home office. The clerk said they keep an eye on kids so they don't pick up those videos, but that section of the store isn't visible from the register. The manager said he didn't understand it either, as they have to mask mature DVDs with black plastic but this doesn't apply to the video tapes. He gave me their district manager's phone number and apologized. I said, "It's okay."

But is it? Is it really okay to have a shop, where I've often let my boys go into without me hovering nearby, that displays soft core porn next to icons like Jean Luc Picard and John Wayne?

It's the same thing with the anime. I like anime, but a lot of it is sexual, often bondage and rape, and lots of bare-breasted female schoolgirls. Suncoast has almost a whole wall of it, interspersed with tapes from that kids' program, Dragonball-Z. I mentioned this to the shop manager as well, since Dragonball-Z is on the top shelves while anime depicting naked sweet young things is right at a 5-year-old's eye level. "They're in alphabetical order," the manager apologized.

As we walked away, Rob commented that I was turning Republican. I said, "No, I'm a mother."

And think about it.... labels for music were the brainchild of Tipper Gore -- not as a Republican or Democrat but as a mom.