Like most parents these days, I worry that my kids won’t want to read much at all, or won’t want to ready anything but garbage.

Imagine my surprise when my daughter asked to read our copy of “To Kill a Mockingbird” and has been having lengthy discussions about racism and the civil rights movement with Irish Woman.

Add to that the fact that she wants to get a copy of “The Diary of Anne Frank” and Little Bear wants to read it when she’s done.

And knock me over with a feather when Little Bear asked for my copy of “Schindler’s List” this morning when he told me about reading “The Devil’s Arithmetic” in school.

I’m not sure if I can take credit for this, but I’m happy with the situation.  Girlie Bear has already read both “Monster Hunter International” novels, and she’s chomping at the bit to read “The Grimnoir Chronicles” with me.   I think for their birthday this year they might be getting some Heinlein.

Be Sure of Your Target and What is Beyond It

The manager of a cookie factory in Wisconsin decided to clear out some of the birds from his factory with a shotgun.  At least one pellet of bird shot missed its target and struck one of his employees.

Where do I begin?  First, using a shotgun inside of a structure to kill nuisance animals is the wrong answer.  You’re more likely cause harm to the structure and its contents, living or otherwise, than you are to scare off the critters.

Next, he obviously didn’t make sure his employees weren’t down range.  It’s only by sheer dumb luck that the employee only dug one piece of lead out of his head, and wasn’t hurt more seriously.  Don’t start with the “bird shot won’t kill” argument.  My son’s Red Ryder BB gun will kill if it hits the right part of the body at the right angle.

Then of course there’s the fact that there are bleeding birds flying around in the rafters of a food factory.  We will occasionally have a bird get into our house through the basement door, and once we flush it out of the house or the cats catch it, there’s always a mess to clean up.  I can’t imagine the mess that a number of birds living in a building will create, but I can sure imagine where it will land.   How this situation got past the local health department is beyond me.

I sincerely hope that the employee who was shot has no long-term problems, the blunt skull who peppered him with bird shot is punished, and that the cookie company calls a real exterminator.   Moron gun owners like this give the rest of us a bad reputation.

Now y’all excuse me while I go downstairs to check which brands of cookies are in our stockpile.

From Tam, of View From the Porch fame:

At least you don’t have to shovel cold.

We’re supposed to have a warm sunny spell next week here in Louisville.  Hopefully Irish Woman will recharge her solar cells.

H/T to Carteach on this one.  Spread the word.  These are very popular brands of .45 ACP.

Posted by Carteach0 at 4:46 PM 

Senator James Webb (D) of Virginia has decided to not seek a second term.  Senator Webb has been serving our country in one form or another for a good chunk of my lifetime, and I believe that the Senate will be diminished by his absence.

Webb is a combat veteran from Vietnam, and has worked hard at championing the causes of veterans and service members.  He is an old style gentleman, who even if I disagree with some of his views, can still show respect and be respected.

Look for the fight over his seat to be extremely contentious as the two dominant parties gouge, kick, and bite over control of the Senate in 2012.

A group of people in Florida helped a 3 foot long squid which had washed up on shore get back to deep water.  They all seemed very concerned for the delicious animal’s well being, even quipping:

“He’ll probably get eaten by a shark,” Gorman said. “But I’d rather have (the squid) die in the ocean where it’s supposed to.”

 Mr. Gorman and his companions have obviously never had fried calamari as an appetizer, or fettuccini tossed with sauted squid, garlic, and white wine.  How we as a species stay at the top of the food chain sometimes escapes me.

These are the same kind of people who get upset that a dog gets into a park and takes out some of the flying vermin, and will try to chase the geese out of the canine avenger’s path.  The people I hang out with get upset because the geese can’t be cleaned, plucked, marinated, and roasted after Rover chews on them.

Personally, I would have used that cooler to ice the son of a gun down and get him home quickly so that he could be used as an organic meat supplement for the family dinner.  But that’s just me.

From my wonderfully humorous Brother in Law, who advised me to not let Irish Woman see this one.  Caution – Salty Language ahead!

Before you ask, yes, that is what my home area in North Dakota looks like in January and February. And that is my definition of winter beauty.

If your doctor says that you shouldn’t eat 12 hours before surgery, then don’t eat or drink anything during the 12 hours preceding your scheduled surgery time.

Corollary:

If your child’s doctor, even if said child is 14 years old, tells you not to let him eat for 12 hours prior to surgery, don’t leave him alone with a box of donuts the morning of surgery.

While getting braces put on his teeth, Little Bear’s dentist noticed that he had an impacted molar that was coming in sideways behind his other molars.  Basically, his jaw isn’t big enough for all of his adult teeth.  A surgeon was consulted, who scheduled Little Bear for surgery to remove it.

Since he would be going under general anesthesia, we were advised that he could have no food or drink for 12 hours prior to his surgery appointment.

This morning, we all showed up at the hospital at 6:30 to get Little Bear registered and into the surgical ward.  Little Bear and his mother were driven by his grandmother, who we will call Medusa, because apparently having your ex-husband drive you and your son to the hospital makes too much sense.  But hey, why rob Medusa and me of a chance to sit across a room from one another and think hateful thoughts at each other?

Anyhoo, registration went quickly and we were escorted back to a small room where surgical prep began.  Little Bear changed into the normal gown, an IV was started, and we began the wait.  After the nurse, the anesthesiologist, the nurse anesthetist, surgeon, another nurse, another anesthesiologist, the janitor, the local representative of the forces of evil, his counterpart in the forces of good, two guys who were lost and looking for the shortest route to Las Vegas that didn’t go through bat country, and the doctor again all came through the area, asking us questions and having us fill out paperwork, we found out that we would be delayed an hour or so due to an emergency surgery that had bumped us.

Mind you, each of these people asked us if he had had anything to eat or drink since last evening, and Little Bear and his mother avowed that he had indeed fasted the prerequisite 12 hours.

Medusa and I stayed in our neutral corners.  I chatted with Little Bear, read several articles from a magazine with him, and did some web surfing on my phone.  Medusa came and went as she needed to find coffee, somewhere to smoke, a restroom, another smoke, more coffee, and another trip to the restroom.  Maybe somewhere in there she went off to terrorize a village or something.  Personally, I was hoping that someone would drop a house on her, but I digress.

After a couple of hours of waiting, the nurse anesthesiologist came in and administered the pre-surgery medications, including a good healthy dose of Versed.  Within a minute or two, Little Bear was quite relaxed and happy.  I can now say I know what signs to look for if he should ever try narcotics.  After another half hour or so of waiting, the charge nurse came in and did final prep for surgery.  As she was unhooking Little Bear from all of the room monitors and getting his IV and such ready for transport to the operating room, she went though all of the initial questions one more time:

What’s your name?
What are you here for today?
Do you have any allergies?
Have you had anything to eat or drink in the last 12 hours?

To the last question, Little Bear, still being stoned out of his gourd, replied “Nothing last night, but I had a piece of a donut this morning before we came to the hospital.”.

Needless to say, the surgery is being rescheduled.  A patient under general anesthesia has to be competely empty because if he were to vomit, he might asperate, causing pneumonia or death.

To say that I was irritated with my ex is an understatement.  Yes, he’s 14, and he should know better, but why even have donuts on the kitchen table when your son can’t eat?

Once Little Bear sobers up, I’m going to have a long talk with him about peronsal responsibility and why he shouldn’t do what he’s told not to.  I’m just glad that we were delayed long enough for the Versed to turn into a truth serum with him and that he fessed up before they put him under.

As for Medusa, I’m sorry to say that the sun wasn’t out today, so she didn’t melt into a pool of icor when she stepped outside.  Better luck next time, I guess.

There are few worse ways to start the day than to spend a few hours in a hospital waiting room with your ex-wife and ex-mother-in-law.

– Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Looks like I picked the wrong time to lose my taste for chocolate.

Hershey’s, purveyors of such lovely edibles as the eponymous Hershey Bar and Hershey Kisses, has released a study which shows that chocolate powder and dark chocolate have more anti-oxidants than some of the “super fruits” such as acai or cranberry.

The total flavanol content of dark chocolate was significantly greater than cocoa beverage on a per-serving basis and both dark chocolate and cocoa beverage had significantly greater total flavanol content than hot cocoa mix, acai, blueberry, cranberry and pomegranate juice, the study says.

Over the last year or so, I’ve lost my sweet tooth.  I can probably count on two hands the number of pieces of chocolate that I’ve eaten since last fall.  For a lifetime chocoholic, especially for dark chocolate, this is a catastrophe.  I still love the way chocolate smells, so there’s still hope.  Maybe if I convince myself that a piece of  dark chocolate before bedtime is good for me, I’ll get back into it.