"In constant pursuit of albino squirrel rights"

Yes, this is the mission statement of the Albino Squirrel Preservation Society.
I'm considering the notion of founding a chapter of this organization right here in Cincinnati. Why, you may ask? Is it because I've had a natural affinity for squirrels since childhood when my grandpa lovingly referred to all squirrels as "Bushy"? (And as a consequence, I thought all squirrels were actually just one squirrel called "Bushy" who followed us even to Hilton Head on vacation. (I was not a smart child.)) Is it because I was called "The Flying Squirrel" for many years at Coney by the fact that my diving style was of the spread-arm, spread-leg, belly-flop variety? Or, am I just feeling guilty for those many times I fearfully avoided that wretched, tail-less, loon of a squirrel that threatened to attack me during a run through Oakwood at UD? It's true that squirrels and I go way back. But, today, just today, I spotted an albino squirrel for the very first time in Pleasant Ridge. It was playing with its fellow normal squirrels, probably not even realizing that it could never truly be accepted as an equal. My empathy for this poor little white animal could very well lead me to make the lifetime pledge of the ASPS: "To foster compassion and goodwill towards albino squirrels, and to dedicate myself to the protection of all squirrels, especially those that are albino."

Garbage. And Lots of It.

Last night, as I sat curled up on the couch reading, I was disrupted at intervals by a banging and a clattering. Even a few rumblings shook the house. At first I just assumed it was Ada throwing her 5 pounds around the house like a gorilla. (She's proven the theory of momentum over and over and over again.) But, just as I settled back into my book, I caught sight of the little furball laying on the floor, innocently licking her paws. No, it wasn't Ada rattling my house this time - it was the damn neighbors. The weird ones to the north. Five children. Five LARGE children. Pale and beady-eyed. Five children and two adults crammed into a tiny home. I've lived beside them for over a year and not one of them has spoken a word to me. I try to look friendly. I smile. I wave. I say hello. I even let them skateboard in my driveway (not that they've asked for my permission.) Still, nothing. No acknowledgement beyond blank stares and slow lumbering to escape my car as I pull into the drive.

This morning, I rolled my trash can to the curb. As I turned to head back to the house, I noticed the trash my neighbors had left for the garbageman. Heaps of dark green Glad bags stuffed full of God knows what tossed onto the lawn at random. Mixed in with the bags were other odd items - pieces of bright plastic, an old tennis ball, what appeared to be a metal pipe. This was the chaos that shook my house last night - the collection of garbage. I glanced down the quiet street, which was by this time lined with tidy green trash cans and red recycling bins. I shook my head. Thankfully, what I can only assume to be the bedlam next door is contained within that house each night. Each night but trash night, I guess.

Exclamations of a Diabolical Three-Year-Old

On Saturday morning, Dezzie politely asked me if she could show me how she plays robots. I agreed and with that she squealed in evil impish delight:

"Daddy is good Optimus Prime. And Theo is bad Optimus Prime. And I am MEGATRON, the most evil of all ROBOTS!!"

Dad's 60th Birthday at the Zoo with His Girls

Me versus the 2 oz genius

My very last birthday present (only a month late) came from my sister this weekend. She gave me a beautiful shirt and this odd little device called 20 Questions. You hold it in the palm of your hand, think of a noun, and answer its questions until it guesses the noun in your head. And, I swear to you, it guesses the right answer almost every time. I believe this little computer is actually possessed by the Devil . The Devil who must be reading my thoughts even now as I type.

Tonight's noun was MACARONI. (yes, this is how I amuse myself)

Q1: Animal? Vegetable? Mineral? Other? Unknown?
A1: OTHER

Q2: Do you hold it when you use it?
A2: NO

Q3: Does it make sound?
A3: NO

Q4: Was it used over 100 years ago?
A4: I wasn't alive a 100 years ago, but I'm guessing NO

Q5: Does it use electricity?
A5: It does in my house, but officially NO

I KNOW EVERYTHING! (It taunts me)

Q6: Do you use it in your home?
A6: YES

Q7: Does it have writing on it?
A7: NO

Q8: Is it hard?
A8: This is a trick question...sometimes hard, sometimes soft, but I'm going to say NO

Q9: Do you use it at work?
A9: Only as leftovers, so NO

Q10: Is it smaller than a loaf of bread?
A10: YES

Q11: Do you use it in public?
A11: It wouldn't be wrong if I did, but NO

Q12: Is it made of synthetic material?
A12: Are preservatives synthetic? I'm gonna say NO

Q13: Is it something you can purchase?
A13: YES

Q14: Would you use it daily?
A14: If I had to, I could do it. But, NO

Q15: Can you eat it?
A15: Absolutely, so YES

I'M GONNA WIN (It taunts me repeatedly)

Q16: Does it get really hot?
A16: YES

Q17: Can it fit in an envelope?
A17: Now, this is a trick question. Yes macaroni can fit into an envelope, but not the whole box, and why would you even do that anyway. So, reluctantly, I say NO.

Q 18: Does it come from something larger?
A18: UNKNOWN (Don't we all come from something larger than ourselves?)

Q19: Is it brown?
A19: NO

Q20: Does it come in a pack
A20: SOMETIMES, but I never purchase it that way.

YOU WERE TRICKY- IT'S SPAGHETTI??

Now that's pretty damn close. I may have to call this one a tie.

I'm not sure what I have learned from this experience, except that after a brief question/answer session I find myself on equal terms with a piece of plastic wired with AA batteries. I choose to draw no conclusions.

A Prairie Home Letdown

On those unfortuitous occasions when I find myself at work on a Saturday, plugging away well past Morning Edition on NPR, I'm often greeted next by A Prairie Home Companion. You know, that quirky old-time radio show broadcast live from St. Paul, Minnesota. I can't say with any honesty that I actually enjoy the radio show. I listen for awhile with a strange, maybe strained, curiosity before I inevitably turn off the radio and plug in my iPod. However, recently while taking in another movie, I caught the trailer for the A Prairie Home Companion movie - a movie jam-packed with not just stars, but even a few legends...Meryl Streep, Tommy Lee Jones, Lily Tomlin, Kevin Kline, Woody Harrelson, and Lindsay Lohan (??). And let's not forget the insanely talented and seemingly-invisible-but-in-every-movie-if-you-look-close-enough John C. Reily. Despite the abundance of talent and the swinging country folk music played up in the trailer, the movie itself fell short. Within the first few minutes, I knew I was in trouble. The movie teemed with dialogue but was devoid of any decipherable plot. Not even the crazy antics of Woody Harrelson and John C. Reily as Lefty and Dusty, the irreverant singing cowboys, could pull this movie out of the dumps. I was disappointed, but I should have known.

It was almost worth the nine bucks, however, to catch the previews for the upcoming releases. The first was Marie Antoinette, directed by Sophia Coppola (the woman who wrote and directed one of my very favorite movies Lost in Translation...and who, as Dan recently stated, nearly single-handedly ruined Godfather Part III with her horrible acting skills). This movie is a fresh, hip and apparently intimate take on the youth of Marie Antoinette as she grew up at Versailles. The cast includes Kirsten Dunst (she's come a long way from Bring It On) and Jason Schwartzman (I Heart Huckabees). Coppola's a talented chick, so I'm sure the story plus soundtrack will live up to the trailer, but I'm most looking forward to watching the beauty of Versailles transformed from the museum it is today to the living, breathing estate it once was. Can't wait.

The second movie, and the movie of the summer I am most eagerly awaiting, is Little Miss Sunshine. Greg Kinear, Steve Carell and Toni Collette. I love movies about journeys, literal and figurative. This movie has them both, along with what appears to be many laughs, family dramas, and magical moments of poignancy. Watch the trailer. I can say no more.

A Dead Language...Says Who?

How many of you out there, like myself, were forced to take Latin in high school by your parents? By parents who were only looking out for your very best interests in the hopes of lifting your SAT scores? I'd be kidding myself if I didn't accept the fact that I'm in the minority here. Yes, latin class with Brother Willy was a learning experience that far outreached the topic at hand. Brother Willy (who has since left the brotherhood and married some wealthy chick from Indian Hill (which proves the statement that there is someone for everyone)) had to be the only teacher in my entire educational career (with the possible exception of that cooking instructor at Live Oaks...god help me, I can't chop vegetables) who actually hated me. He made every effort to thwart my straight-A status. He even wrote on my report card, "Katie is very disruptive in class." Yet somehow, despite my alleged misbehavior (misbehavior that has never been proven and which I will continue to deny), I managed to get summa cum laude on the National Latin Exam for three years straight. After all that schooling, I've gotta say, I still couldn't tell you one useful latin word. We translated stories of pillaging and plundering, puers and puellas fetching aqua from the nearby stream before they were accosted by approaching militia. It was ridiculous, really. Until now. I just happened upon this site. The site that all latin scholars can appreciate. The site of "Handy Latin Phrases."

Here are some of my favorites:

Estne volumen in toga, an solum tibi libet me videre?
Is that a scroll in your toga, or are you just happy to see me?

Non calor sed umor est qui nobis incommodat.
It's not the heat, it's the humidity.

Labra lege.
Read my lips.