And I never learned how to READ! Or use proper punctuation.

It all started on Friday morning when I was waiting in line at the fabulous new Starbuck's drive-thru near my house. I love Starbuck's and I love drive-thru, so it's a perfect combination, really. So what if I sat in line perhaps 30% longer than I would have waited if I had gone inside. The point is, I don't HAVE to go inside. I can get my grande peppermint soy mocha while cocooned in my car listening to Crowded House. And reading people's bumper stickers.

On this particular day, there was this truck in front of me in line, and so I was forced to read his bumper stickers. He had the requisite hunting and fishing stickers, and then there was one that said "Guns don't cause violence any more than flies cause garbage." At least that's what it SHOULD have said. What it did in fact say was "Guns don't cause violence -- anymore, than flys cause garbage." What? WHAT? The punctuation, oh dear god, the punctuation. Read it out loud and see how stupid you sound. I had to tell someone who would understand this monumental proofreading situtation (and yet not make fun of me, which excluded most if not all of my friends), and so I called my Scrabble archrival -- my dad. Unfortunately, he didn't answer so I left a message.

The thing is, one of my biggest pet peeves revolves around spelling. It drives me nuts when something is full of typos and misspellings, especially when it is represented as something professional. This bumper sticker was not written in crayon and taped to the bumper -- no, no -- a business had actually paid for it to be printed. I had a textbook in college once that had so many errors that I couldn't read it because I was so distracted by the horrible editing. When we receive proposals at work requesting upwards of $250,000, I would think that people would proofread it well, and especially make sure that the name of the school the proposal is coming from is spelled correctly. They do not. There is no excuse these days for misspelling -- EVERYONE has spellcheck and there are about eight billion online dictionaries. In my opinion, spelling errors in professional papers/memos/books/letters/etc., completely shoot down your credibility and make you look ignorant. Especially if you put on your resume that you are detail oriented and spell it "detial." Heh. That really happened. Not to me though. Not that I'm perfect, but I do attempt to properly edit my work.

Anyway, let me carefully step down from my soapbox, all the while shaking my fist in the air and bemoaning the sad state of the English language today. Bad spelling, bad grammar, bad punctuation. Just bad.

A story about two things I love -- my friends...and Jordano.

On the spur of the moment, we decided to go to Cafe Jordano for dinner last night. Now, in case you haven't a) read Kendra's blog extolling the fabulousness that is Jordano, or b) *gasp* never been there, let me tell you about it. It is a little place in the strip mall by Safeway, sandwiched in between a bread store and a Chinese restaurant that was closed (twice) because they don't believe in paying rent, apparently.

Anyway, I was introduced to the wonder that is Jordano by Sally and Joe, and it is one of my favorite places. It serves Italian food, which admittedly, I don't generally like. However, it is NORTHERN Italian food, which means it's not all about marinara or alfredo sauce. Don't get me wrong, you can have things with marinara or alfredo, but it's not on everything. They have a fairly extensive menu of things ranging from seafood to buffalo, but I really can't remember the last time I looked at a menu. Why? Because I will always get Mark's Favorite. It is thin pieces of chicken breast in a white wine and butter sauce with artichoke hearts and mushrooms. Kendra always gets Barb's Favorite (also known as Pasta Barbaresca, which is how she always orders it now ever since a near tragic debacle before the Prince concert last year when I ordered takeout and the person taking the order must have thought I had a Jersey accent and gave me BOB's favorite and not BARB's favorite -- she no longer takes chances with Barb) and Karen always gets Eggplant Parmesan. As does Becki, if she's in town. Fascinating, isn't it? Karen keeps pretending she's going to order something new, even last night when she's like "I think I'll get something diff-- I'm getting the eggplant." She gets points for trying, anyway.

What's great about Jordano is that if you go there enough, just like anywhere, they know you. Our waiter is often Aaron, who we went to high school with and who Sally refers to as "that cute boy Aaron" and he usually comments if he hasn't seen me for a couple of weeks. Yes, weeks. I go there a lot. Kendra refers to me as "the 'Norm' of Cafe Jordano." There's another waitress there who knows Sally and Joe really well and one time I was there with Dan and I wanted to get wine and I couldn't remember the name of it. So I asked her what wine I always get and she told me. I love that.

Anyway, the reason we went was because Karen and I had to settle up on a bet we made with Kendra (I would be a sore loser, but I got to eat too, so who cares, really) and I love doing stuff with my girls. We don't get to as much as I wish we did, and it was fun. And then Kendra and I finished the evening by going to Walgreens and dropping about $50 apiece on various beauty products and the Oprah magazine. Ah... Jordano and Walgreens. Happy.

Maybe I shouldn't laugh. But I am anyway.

Ok, so under the heading of "I shouldn't laugh, but I am, hysterically" comes this story from News of the Weird. It's an old story, but every time I read it I get this mental picture that is so funny that I just can't not laugh. I'm sorry if it offends you, but seriously, the mental picture...

"A 90-year-old woman was fatally crushed when a clumsy, 485-pound circus bear performing at a retirement home tripped over her wheelchair and fell on her."

Can you just imagine? This big ol' bear, perhaps wearing a tiny red shriner's hat, lumbering around in a dancing sort of way when all of the sudden, he trips and falls on this little old lady. Embarrassed, he gets up quickly and starts to dance around again, hoping no one noticed. And then he is confused by all of the ensuing panic because how is he supposed to know he killed that lady. I'm sorry, but I'm totally laughing right now. I can't help it. The dancing bear in my head looks like these Disney bears from a looooong time ago that dance through the forest picking up trash and bonking their butts together. If you've seen it, maybe you are also laughing. If not, well, you should. Dancing bears are good fun. Unless you're that lady, of course.

This post brought to you by a week of trying to get a 10-page paper written for school and a $2 million proposal written for work. I'm pretty tired. But oh, the dancing bear...

I'm the best that's ever been

So no, I did not watch the Super Bowl yesterday. As I may or may not have stated before, I care less about sports than I do about, oh, maybe the Michael Jackson trial. I have my opinions on both (sports: boring. Michael Jackson: crazy and a perv) and so why should I waste time watching either of those things on t.v.? Plus, Linda and Alayna were visiting, and since Alayna is only 4, I didn’t feel that it was necessary to cut in on her cartoon time just to watch the commercials that may or may not be funny. Plus, we decided to go to Super Target. And can I just say that in my world, Super Target – super. Super Bowl – not so much.

I did, however, catch part of the pre-game show. I was just about to turn the channel away from the shrieking that was Gretchen Wilson, when I discerned some very important words coming out of her mouth: “Ladies and Gentlemen, Mr. Charlie Daniels!” Whoa! Put the clicker down! Because you know what it means when someone yells that? It means “THE DEVIL WENT DOWN TO GEORGIA!!!”

So here comes Charlie Daniels and so I sat right back in my chair right there and let him show me how it’s done. He’s not a young guy, but holy hell can he play that fiddle. I wanted to call all of the girls and simply yell “THE DEVIL WENT DOWN TO GEORGIA!!!” (And then run at top speed in a circle around them and back onto the dance floor where I would dance enthusiastically all by myself while wearing Berndt's tie. And it would be fun. Because it’s a rare occasion when that song is played at a wedding, and you shouldn’t dilly-dally if you want to get in some good dancing. I’m just saying.)

Anyway, back to the pre-game show. Charlie Daniels rocked and it totally makes me want to learn how to play just so I can play that song. And so I can yell “I done told you once you sonofabitch, I’m the best that’s ever been.” Sigh. That’s good fun for the whole family right there.

The hugging is just cute

Last but not least, here are the kids hugging. They LOOOOOOVE each other. And while I am a lot of things, I am not that girl who poses her cats for pictures. I swear, I saw them like this and managed to catch it on film.

Do not be deceived by the sweetness of that face...

This is the Baby Kitty as, well, a baby. She was about 2 months old here. This was before all of the rampant destruction of my curtains and plants and pretty much anything else she can get her paws on, but she is still pretty cute. And I would do something to discipline her, however, she could care less about the word "no" and being squirted with water is like a game. Hopefully I don't give up as easily when disciplining human kids. I actually thought she was deaf when I first got her, but it turns out she was just ignoring me. She also has a name, but suffice it to say, she only answers to "Baby." When she deigns to answer, that is.

Jungle Boogie

This is my boy The Inspector. That's his fancy name, however, he only answers to "Booger" or "Boogie." He was a scrawny little sick gross boogery thing when I got him, so I just called him Booger and he got used to it. He comes when I call him, I might add. People say he looks freaky, (what with the pure black coloring and the big yellow eyes) but he is the coolest cat ever. Not freaky at all, unless you count the overzealous affection he lavishes on me in the form of licking my face and hugging my neck and wanting to be as close to me as possible. Not so much freaky as sometimes annoying. His personality is hilarious -- he thinks he's a dog. Or a person. Whatever, he's sure he's not a cat. Unless perhaps he's a PANTHER. STALKING you from atop the kitchen CABINETS.

New! Pretty! Bed!

Look! It's the New! Bed! Note the eyelet lace skirt and the gorgeous Harold Feinstein tulip print over the New! Bed! AND my leafy iron lamp. Sigh. How I love my room.

I Like Pelicans.

I took this pic in the Florida Everglades last year. Apparently the brown pelicans are pretty rare, but look! Two!