karen rutherford, freelance writer

I think I’m off news again for a while. Shaken babies, absent-minded parents leaving children in cars to die, people imprisoned by their parents in trailers and basements, people eating people on busses, legislators working 30 days for $200K in retirement funds, disastrous presidential choices, Lohan Lohan Lohan.

So…..

Truly terrific, absolutely true fun ((I stole this link from Ross Matthews’ blog, but
it’s too fantastic to ever forget):

Musical memory fun: Romeo's Tune

Addictive fun: Sequence

Puppy fun:

Heartwarming fun: StoryCorps

And just for my own fun, if I were interviewed:

What was the happiest moment of your life?
I’ve had a lot of little happy moments, but picking something that stands out as the happiest? I don’t know. I’ve had proudest and most grateful, but happiest? As in joyful? Maybe eating lobster and blueberry pie with Austin at the Fisherman’s Catch? Maybe listening in Poindexter Hall? Maybe talking to UF on the phone? Maybe my 30th birthday?

What are you most proud of?
The thoughtful and responsible man my son is turning out to be.

What are the most important lessons you’ve learned in life?
Gut instinct is God. What I focus on expands. Positive thinking is faith. Mind off self is happiness. Listening is the best gift. I need people. I can’t change people. Acceptance. Forgiveness. Compassion. That it’s all just various forms of Love.

What is your earliest memory?
Painting our toenails on the tiny porch of our house on Sterling Drive, hearing the ice cream truck at the same time and my mother rushing around to find change for us.

How would you like to be remembered?
A good friend, intelligent, funny, hopeful, tried to do the right thing, independent.

The temperature gauge on my car had been heading dangerously close to the red zone for a couple of weeks. I had some upcoming travel for work scheduled, so I bucked up and called the dealer for estimates. She immediately quoted $125 for a diagnostic fee, $150 for a radiator flush service, and, guessing it could be a thermostat issue, another $260 for that work.

I decided to go to Jiffy Lube Joe the next morning to have him do the flush service at the cheaper Jiffy Lube rate (plus, I had a coupon!). At least I'd spend less money if that was all it needed.

Joe popped the hood and investigated. He didn’t think that a radiator flush service would solve my problem but had liability issues offering up an opinion (since they don’t actually do full-fledged auto repair work).

But he put some antifreeze in the radiator anyway (it was empty – who knew!) and declared, “This is the worst water pump leak I think I’ve ever seen.”

He charged me $10 for the antifreeze and sent me to Car-X after calling his friend, who is the manager, for availability and pricing.

Mike, the Car-X Manager, took my keys and asked if I could leave it with him. I said I could go spend some time in the McDonald’s down the road but that I’d have to wait because it was my only transportation. “That’s okay. I’ll push you ahead of someone. It shouldn’t be more than 90 minutes.” An hour later, it was ready, and the bill was only $176 – a full $50 less than I was originally told.

When I say this has never happened to me, in all my driving years, I mean that my experiences have always been the complete opposite. I think there may be positive interference in my magnetic field. I can’t wait for something else to go wrong with the car to test it out. Well, not exactly. :o

And I like to think of this as my paying it forward, although I really can’t claim that, because it was so unintentional. The Car-X mechanic who actually replaced the water pump got in my car to pull it into its stall and, as I walked by headed towards my Egg McMuffin, asked if my car window was broken. I said, ‘Nahh, it’s just moody.” He must have laughed for five minutes. His laughing made me start laughing and we couldn’t stop. I know, right? Not really funny at all.

But I think I made his day, and all three of these nice men made for the nicest broken car day I’ve ever had. I don’t even care that I didn’t get to use a coupon.

Come to find out, there’s a celebration (or two) every day of the year (April 30th is National Honesty Day, and I'm already planning to have an honest discussion with myself).  

But today is April 25^th and it's World Penguin Day in celebration of the beginning of the annual northward migration of the Antarctic’s Adelie penguins.

I’m a big fan of the penguin. Not just for their obvious cuteness, but for their tenacity, their loyalty and their attention to detail.

Six things you can do to increase awareness of this marvelous penguin journey:

1. Take a friend to the zoo -- or if you can’t muster the penguin perseverance to make it there, watch this video from the lazy comfort of your home: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HHJWtLhHoE0
2. Attend a penguin parade -- or if that’s too much trouble, too, watch this video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hocght2zfhA
3. Read a book about a penguin to your child. Or better yet, play a penguin game: http://www.pbs.org/wnet/nature/antarcticpenguins/quiz.swf
4. Wear black and white (tuxedos are optional).
5. Walk around your block a bazillion times in solidarity.
6. Honk.

So, today, April 25th, take a little time to wish them well.

Happy trails, Penguins!!! Take a sweater.

There is something in Indiana I call “The Indiana Man Syndrome”. I don’t know if it’s the accent (or the lack thereof), the formal enunciation, the candid emotion, but there are an extraordinary amount of married men who, frankly, seem gay. My first encounter with it was more behavioral: Two men I worked with ate their lunches (packed in little lunchboxes by their wives) together in an enclave behind closed doors every day. Men where I come from wouldn't do this.

Now, I have nothing against anything any-sexual, be it hetero-, homo-, this-ho-, that-ho-, a-, etc. But I don't enjoy people who can't just pick one and own it. Be honest with yourself and the rest of us, I say. Be proud. Don’t pretend. It’s like lying. And don’t think I don’t know. It’s insulting. And creepy.

I am sitting across from a man who is a grandfather. He gets excited (think full-on-girly-giddiness with flailing hands and bouncy feet) about the most questionable things.

Yesterday, he created a ruckus because someone asked him about his color-coded folders.

“Oh, my, yes! I JUST LO-O-O-O-V-V-V-E my folders. I don’t want to think about having to be without them.

I have blue folders for jobs I must do today. I have red folders for jobs due in a week. I have green folders for jobs that I repeat each month.

I enjoy them so much!”

(See? Now, I ask ya: Is this normal man talk?)

“That’s a great setup. Do you mind if I steal your idea?”

“Oh, my, no!!! You’ll love it! You can buy color-coded folders at Staples. They’re right down the road. And I think you could get your system up and running for less than $20.”

“I’ll go today. Thanks, Dan!”

“Call me when you get it together and I’ll stop by your office. You can show off what you created. I know you'll be soooo happy.”

I want to saw off a toe with my color-coded Bic pen. It would have to be less painful.

(I saw this posted on a blog I regularly visit and thought it was cute. The idea is to pass it on to other bloggers to learn something about each other.)

I am addicted to I Love Lucy reruns. I still watch the Real World/Road Rules Challenges. I did not enjoy the original “An Affair to Remember”. I like Joyce Meyer.

I try not to, but I still get jealous of the successes of others. I think I could stay in the house for weeks at a time. I could eat my weight in peanut M&Ms. I have never not had a perplexing neighbor. I believe greed is the deadliest of the sins.

I often feel guilty for no reason (leftover from Catholic school days). I can be too righteous for my own good. I don’t let go easily. I’m a loyal friend and a good listener. I have good instincts about people, but sometimes don’t react accordingly. I procrastinate in dangerous proportions.

I have a consuming crush on the man in the Kleenex commercials. I google people I have known. A whole lot of people baffle me. Judaism fascinates me. Volunteering disappoints me. Love eludes me. I lock my doors at certain red lights. I fear for this country, mostly because of the alarming reproductive rates of people who should not reproduce at all.

I check my horoscope every day and my numeroscope every month. I am insanely overdue for an annual physical, but the thought of making an appointment gives me hives. I don’t feel like I deserve to get professional pedicures, so I never do.

I love not being an employee. I love not knowing where I’ll be in five years. I am perpetually grateful.

Well, if I didn’t feel old before, today cinched it.

Dental hygienist, after looking at a tooth issue: “Have you gone through the change?”

“Um, not that I know of.”

“Do you take any medications?”

“Um, noooo.”

“Really? Wow, that’s really good.”

Dentist, after making sure I was mouth-healthy enough to leave, used the patronizing kiss of death: “Okay, young lady, we’ll see you in three months.”

Austin asked for a stamp. “I got bored one day in Atlanta. Do you have a stamp and can you mail my voter’s registration form?”

“Sure. I'll mail it along with my tear-stained AARP application.”

Then I filled out a survey and noticed the age group I’ll move to this year: 45-54. 54?!? Seriously?

And, last but not least, I cannot read the I-sware-it's-the-tiniest-print-I've-ever-seen directions on the bottle of fuel cleaner I bought today. I think it says something about the gas tank but can’t be sure.

All in one afternoon! I should start snoring in my chair any minute now.

It sure didn’t feel like Christmas this year. I never did put up a tree. A wreath did make it to the door and a sad little plastic waving Santa did make it to the front porch. I say sad, because, he never got plugged in and he kept falling over in the wind, so most of the time he just looked like he needed a chalk outline drawn around him. Hell, I never even watched Rudolph or Frosty this year, completely missing the meaning of Christmas this year!!

December 22nd: It took me all day to calculate that the best time for me to go to the mailbox and get Santa (who had blown into the yard this time) would be after dark. I didn’t want to get in the way of all the holiday comings and goings in the subdivision. Plus, there’s the whole hideous monster thing, best for another time.

December 23rd: I decided to actually leave the house to pick up something to eat. Driving back home, my impeccable timing put me in front of a family pulling out from a nearby church’s Sunday service. The driver – the father, all dressed in his Sunday before Christmas best - tailgated me and swerved from side to side to supposedly make his inconvenience even more visible to me. When I braked and put on my blinker to turn into my subdivision, he nearly hit me. Looking back at him in my mirror, I saw him yelling in my direction and giving me the finger.

December 24th: I went to the post office and re-routed (there was NO parking at Target) to Wal-Mart for two space heaters. I normally don’t shop on Christmas Eve day, but I really had to. The check out girl looked me in the eye, smiled and said, “Merry Christmas” when she handed me the receipt. As I left, the Salvation Army bell ringer man looked me in the eye, smiled and said, “Merry Christmas. You stay warm now. And keep that smile.” It was the most live human contact I’ve had in over a week. And it would be counted among one of my few, but precious Christmas gifts this year.

December 25th: I watched the National Cathedral Service this morning. One of the sermons was ever so Christianly called, “I want what you have”. Of course, what was meant was that the light and peace within we Christians should make others want to ask us what brings us such joy, which in turn, provides us with the opportunity to witness. Or flip birds in traffic. Or say we have four children who need donated coats when we only have one child. Or thank Jesus for “blessing” us with a new car. Or preach to our congregation in the morning, and leave our wife and kids for our mistress's house in the evening. Or ungratefully gripe about our Christmas holidays. I called Austin to wish him Merry Christmas. He got mad at me, because I couldn’t hear him above all the talking in the background. He had to go after exactly 47 seconds because his problem-child cousin showed up and started messing with his game controller. The worst Lifetime movie I have ever seen was just interrupted by a commercial for two interlocking metal sticks that can be squeezed together to build bigger breasts and purchased for only $19.95.

I realize I could and probably should have spread some Christmas cheer by going to a church service or volunteering at a downtown mission, but given my recent experiences with both of these, I know when to leave well enough alone and stay away from others. Christmas 2006 felt better. Christmas 2008 will too.

In keeping with the holiday hawking of things already done, I’m regurgitating my own greatest hits. Not the greatest - as if - but a few favorite posts out here that still strike me funny or still tick me off.

All compiled into a collection of timeless classics. Yours. Free. Now. No phone calls. No stamps. No credit cards. No shipping. No.handling. Easy and just in time for the holidays.

I carefully weeded through the past posts here - painful as that was at times to read my own writing - to select just the right ones.

When talking about the problems with the release of her Greatest Hits CD, Mariah Carey recently said, “I have so much good material; it’s really hard to pick just a few for all the fans who adore me.”

Oh, Mariah. I understand. We’re just too good for our own good. So much in common.

So, here’s my attempt at self-importance. My holiday gift from me to me.

One: Why? Because I am still obsessed with the fact that Steve Hall of Darlington, McCallie, and Orr Treks infamy is still allowed to be in the wilderness with other people’s children. I worry about the kids at Wasatch Academy, who take for granted that their leaders would do better if they knew better (just one from me).
Questioning Steve Hall

Two: Why? Because I am still obsessed with the fact that Hillary Clinton has enough support to run for President. I wrote letters to Santa about it last year that remain unanswered.
Dear Santa
Thanks a lot Santa

Three: Why? Because it’s so sweet and makes me smile.
Used Books

Four: Why? Because it’s Austin in a nutshell and I love him so.
Hmmph

Five: Why? Because I do remember boys.
Canned Tomatoes

Six: Why? Because I do remember boys.
A flutter

Seven: Why? Because it reminds me.
Unshun

Eight: Why? Because it makes me think of Miss Hazel.
Preferred Customer

Nine: Why? Because it’s Christmas.
Christmas 1970

Ten: Why? Just because.
October 17th

And that’s quite enough this year. I feel sick. Of myself.

Happy Holidays!!!

Well, I hate myself. I just cast my 5 online votes for my favorite Dancing with the Stars contestant. Can I sink any lower? Apparently so, because I don’t want to divulge my choice, just to be all mysterious about it.

I do have a semblance of a line, though, thank gawd. I saw a commercial last night for Big Brother casting. Never again will I watch that show. Even I don’t have that kind of time (or tolerance).

I need to do a TBS search for the Rudolph and Frosty and Grinch shows to come so I can work my schedule around them. Oh, a shiny holiday star amidst the gray skies of writers’ strikes.

It was Helio. I voted for Helio.