I’m All A-Twitter

Over a low-tech lunch of chicken tenders and fries, my son Jason and I had a high-tech conversation about our web sites. We use the same platform (WordPress), but his is, of course, a hundred times more sophisticated than mine. He has newsfeeds, categories and an interface with Flickr. Mine has a title, some tabs, and a couple of pictures. When it comes to bells and whistles, I’m pretty much out of it. Jason is my link to the techno world.

So when he started talking about Twitter, I listened. For those who are in the dark, Twitter is a thing that allows you to type comments to a bunch of your friends all at once. They can receive it on their desktops, laptops, or cell phones. It’s kind of a subscription alert system. If I were subscribed to Jason’s Twitterings, I would receive his every uploaded thought, such…(Read more)

Step away from the cell phone

I saw a sad sight the other day: a 3-year-old in a stroller, clinging to her blanket and staring vacantly at the passing scenery while her mother, pushing the stroller, chatted on her cell phone.

This scene—parents talking on the phone and ignoring their children—is played out over and over again, all over the U.S. and whatever countries are adopting our sometimes twisted values.

Parents are missing so many opportunities to connect with their children. The cell-phoning mother could have been engaging with her child, pointing out all the flowers, talking about the neighborhood dogs, or asking her what she wanted for lunch.

Here comes the part where I tell you how it was in my day. Before you roll your eyes and call me sanctimonious, I will freely admit that I did my share of…(Read more)

The Case of the Vicious Raccoons

I have a live-and-let-live attitude toward wildlife. I might change my mind if, say, a mountain lion carried off Mr. Bobo. Any beast who decided to make a Scooby Snack of my kitty cat had better find a good hiding place. I’ll form a posse and we’ll hunt him down with flaming torches and a big old shotgun. (Just kidding-flaming torches would be a fire hazard.)

But I would never dream of harming a cute little woodland creature such as a raccoon. In fact, in the pantheon of animals that have been Disneyfied, the raccoon is my favorite. Maybe it’s the little mask, or the dexterous paws or the clever way they have learned to survive on garbage.

I like to collect raccoon stories. At the top of my list of favorites is the…(Read more)

Do-it-Yourself Has Limits

There are many reasons I love my husband. His ability to fix things around the house is not one of them.

While nobody beats Keeper at being kind, supportive, and amusing, nobody would ever call him handy. When something needs to be repaired around the house, I can count on him to say, “Aren’t there people we can call to take care of this?”

Well, sure. There are skilled handypersons galore. The problem is, it’s just too embarrassing to call them to do things that any reasonably intelligent adult should be able to do. Hiring someone to change a doorknob is like employing a chef to make you a grilled cheese sandwich. Unless both your arms are broken, you should just do it yourself.

Since the phrase “do it yourself” causes Keeper to start stuttering, I am always looking for help with small jobs that don’t warrant hiring skilled labor,…(Read more)

Feel Free to Point a Finger

Here’s my definition of a grown-up: a person who is in charge of his own life and doesn’t blame his parents, his boss, or society for every little thing. A grown-up also makes a difference in the world and can cook a turkey dinner for eight without setting the oven on fire or giving the guests salmonella poisoning. (For the scoop on why my sister is a grown-up and I am not, see “The Turkey Test” in my book “You May Already Be a Wiener!”)

Today, it’s okay to free your inner child. It’s Blame Someone Else Day. That’s right. Today, and today only, you can point the finger at someone else and charge them with making a mess of things, causing trouble, or generally ruining your life. However you come up short, today you have permission to abdicate all personal responsibility and accuse someone else.

This will be fun.

The fact that…(Read more)

Watch Out! Friday is the 13th

I don’t consider myself superstitious. Despite having walked under ladders, broken mirrors and spilled salt, I have had pretty good luck in my life (knock on wood).

Lots of people, maybe even you, harbor superstitions based on folklore, family beliefs, or just plain bad luck for which you have assumed a cause. Since this Friday falls on the 13th, a review of the persistent superstition surrounding this date is timely.

Fear of this date isn’t exactly rational. But couple the fact that many view 13 as an unlucky number with the fact that Friday is considered an inauspicious day to start anything, and you have double trouble. There is even a term for the fear of Friday the 13th: paraskavedekatriaphobia. (Typing this word triggered my own fear of typos).

According to a highly reliable third-hand reference on an obscure website, the number 13 has the following sinister associations:

* Lizzy Borden uttered a total…(Read more)

Honoring Men All Month Long

As retailers everywhere have been reminding us for weeks, Father’s Day is June 15.  But did you know that the entire month of June is a special time to honor men?  That’s right, June is International Men’s Month (IMM).  March was International Women’s Month, but the celebration went unnoticed, at least by me.

But, let us for a moment (or for 30 days, if you’re really into it) consider the issues in men’s lives that are important.  What are those issues? you ask. For guidance, let’s turn to Party Central for IMM: www.menstuff.org.

Menstuff® has picked one issue per day to focus their attention on.  In a quick once-over, it appears Menstuff has named all the biggies: Relationships, Health, and Work. There are a couple of unexpected ones, as well: Prison, Violence, and Isolation.  Hmmm.  These kind of go together, don’t they?

The site lists resources and provides commentary on all 30…(Read more)

Miracle Workers

 It’s so ironic. Just last week I wrote a column about how Keeper and I think of Corky, our little French Bulldog, as the child we never had together.

The column ran on Friday. On Sunday, Corky almost died.

We were at the dog park in Foster City, an open and windy spot which was full of Shih Tzus, Pomeranians, and other adorable fluffballs and their parents. Corky was her usual sociable self, but had trouble engaging any playmates in a game of tag. Instead, she hung out at the fence separating the small dog enclosure from the “real dog” enclosure (as my friends with Labs would say). On the other side was an Australian Shepherd Dog whose instinct told her to herd something. Lacking access to cows…(Read more)