What did we do before YouTube?

1 seemingly normal house cat + 1 strange soundtrack + induced cat weirdness = ~85% of YouTube's videos worth watching. Al Gore's Internet brings you ... Trololo Cat.

Finally, the epic showdown

Elite 8? Final 4? No idea when it comes to college basketball. But when I saw this, I realized I have much stronger feelings about dessert than nearly anything else. Except the gospel. And "Lost."

You may need to click on the image to en-bigger it.

Long time, no see

Sorry for the prolonged absence. I just haven't felt great between some persistent insomnia and the normal gamut of migraines. I had quite a restful weekend, though, and will have a short week at work this week, so hopefully I've turned the corner on some of this.

It was strange -- last night, after about two weeks of feeling not great, it was like someone flipped a switch. I started doing laundry, running the dishwasher, rearranging furniture. Crazy.

In any case, I hope not to have such long absences in the future.

In other news, today was Daisy's 15th birthday. We celebrated with a few of her favorite things: a nap on the couch, prolonged ear scratching and some French fries (no salt, though).

For Shu

My street in bloom.



Spring has sprung.

Enormous cutlery

I have, shall we say, a somewhat quirky home decorating aesthetic. I've paired some inherited 150ish-year-old antiques with plush ferret toys perched on their chair cushions. Up my stairs are what seem to be at a distance two very formal looking watercolor portraits, but up close you see that the portraits are of dogs, wearing formal robes and ruffled collars. I also have my initials hanging on the wall in my den, not because I'm a narcissist but because I watched The Mary Tyler Moore Show growing up, and she had an M on the wall of her apartment. I always wanted to be her when I grew up, and the initials are as close as I can get.

So, you get the idea. I'm weird. And anything too serious or formal needs some sillying up.

So imagine the squeal of delight I squealed when last night, at Pier 1, I spied this:


Yes, it's a fork. But it's a giant fork! In real life it's just about four feet tall. And shiny. And fantastic. And, and -- there was also a spoon!


I have long been wanting to do something to my dining room to make it a bit less stiff. I have an old French poster featuring a picture of a grumpy black cat on one wall (can't imagine why that would resonate...), but it still needed something. And that something, I now realize, was a giant fork and spoon mounted on the wall.

Behold:

Prayers for Miss Daisy

She was pretty barfy yesterday, and then in the middle of the night, she had a seizure in her sleep.

We went to the emergency vet where she was rehydrated and given some meds just in case she's back on her way to a case of pancreatitis. The fluids alone seemed to really perk her up. She hasn't barfed since early last evening, so I hope a day of sleeping on the couch with me in front of a roaring fire will do the trick.

She'll be 15 on March 29 (which the ER vet couldn't believe -- even shivery with a little fever, she jumped up and down to smell his face and lick his nose), so every little hiccup in her health is taken seriously. I hope this doesn't sound silly, but I hope you'll keep her in your thoughts and prayers.

ETA: Someone is feeling much better. Here she is watching DVRed "Meet the Press." Apparently health care reform is fascinating to her.

Miscellany

• It's Day 2 of Operation: No Nuts and so far, so good. I did wake up headachey this morning, but once the rain started (and the medicine kicked in), it moved from the "oh dang" category to "not so bad."
• Please behold Daisy from the couch this morning. In the time she sat with me while I waited on the rain and drugs, she managed not only to snag all of the woobie from me, but also to cocoon herself in it.

• The new job is going really well, I think. I really like the people I work with and the team aspect of how things get staffed here. And it's so lovely to walk into a committee room or onto the Senate Floor and be greeted by familiar faces and welcomes. It's nice to be next door to Sean and David, too.
• I have a New Favorite Thing, which I shall write about soon. A pillow that I read raves about online both on a makeup/clothes message board as well as a migraine one. And it's fantastic.

A moment of clarity

I've been trying to puzzle through, to the extent I can, the various things that trigger migraines for me. Some are pretty clear cut, if weird (like the smell of asphalt or tires, flashing lights, changes in barometric pressure that come before rain, and chocolate), but others have been elusive. In particular, I've been stumped as to why so many mornings I wake up feeling fine, good even, but within an hour or so am in pain.

Until today. Maybe.

This morning I puttered around, getting my stuff ready for church, and felt great. Made breakfast (peanut butter toast -- try not to be too jealous of my glamorous life) and sipped coffee. I'd gotten through about half the toast when Daisy decided to freak out at a neighbor's lawnmower. At 7:30 a.m., but that's another post. Anyway, so I put down the toast, wrestled her back into the family room and played some fetch to soothe her. After about 10 minutes of this, I became sort of dimly aware that my head was starting to hurt. So I headed to the kitchen to get some medicine and on my way past the breakfast bar, grabbed a half-eaten piece of peanut butter toast -- and a light went on for me.

To experiment, I didn't eat any more. Just took a couple of Advil and drank more coffee to see what would happen. And sure enough, the headache got a little worse but finally sort of leveled off and then dissipated. I decided to push further -- and ate the rest of the (cold) toast. And wham! Another headache. Worse this time.

The rest of my little experiment isn't terribly interesting to anyone but me, but I really think I've stumbled onto something. It would explain why adding Benadryl to whatever other medicine I take usually makes the headache resolve sooner. And it would also explain why I can eat a small (couple of Kisses' worth) of chocolate without risking pain, but even the smallest amount of Nutella brings me to tears.

I really hope my nonscientific experiments are right and I'm on to something. I really do.

The week that was

The first week at the new job was mostly a blur, I have to say.

Even after so many years in the Legislature, taking on a new role is tiring. Learning to fit in with established routines and patterns, starting to figure out how my strengths can be brought to bear, fighting the forces of technology (the BlackBerry is still sort of at half mast) and new-hire paperwork -- and then there were hearings and floor sessions and meetings to fit in, too. I woke up today just worn out from it, but in a good way.

I'm thrilled at the amount of responsibility I'm being given, the warmth which which I have been welcomed, and just the amount of good work that is getting done. With people who kind and open minded and gracious. I'm still not sure how many bills I'll wind up carrying. So far, I have one, but will be staffing the senator for Education and Appropriations committees as well as the floor, so those assignments should be enough to keep me off the streets.

All this, and I was still able to see Cora this week, visit Sean and David (immediately next door!) for coffee and a cookie and screen saver pictures, participate in a limited "Lost" caucus and manage to eat lunch every day. Not a bad start.

Going home

I am so thrilled to report that Monday (pending Rules Committee approval), I will be joining the staff of State Senator Elaine Alquist (D-Santa Clara).

Not entirely sure yet what policy areas or legislation I'll be staffing, but that will unfold in the next week or so.

Whew. And yay!

Various

In no particular order...

• I chopped off my hair Saturday. I needed the normal trim/color thing that happens every six weeks (oh, being 44 is fun fun fun sometimes) and just decided to go short. Sweet Colette is, I think, the only person to see it so far as I've been housebound with headaches and some sort of a gross stomach thing, but yes. Hair. Chopped.
• Christina cannot send her crazy-if-obedient husband to my office to take paparazzi pictures of the new cut, though, because I lost my job. A week ago today, I was let go. And that's all I want to say about that.
• I had a couple of interviews that went, I think, well in the past week. Such a blessing in a down economy and when unemployment figures are a trailing indicator of economic recovery. I'm blessed with great friends. And a great God.
  
• I just hate Facebook anymore. Am I alone here? The format changes coupled with the distinct sense I have that my data is being mined have made me just sort of "meh" about the whole thing. I never log in anymore, so if you've sent me a Facebook message and I haven't responded, I'm sorry. I'm not sure how much longer I am going to go through the charade of maintaining an account there.
  
• When Sweet Colette came over Saturday, she brought (among other things) sweet-potato-based dog treats for Daisy. Knowing that Daisy has a weird sixth sense for potato detection and begs shamelessly for potato-based foods. Daisy loved the treats, doing her prancey dance in anticipation of them and chewing so seriously that she adopted a widened stance and sort of unfocused her eyes. Once I manage to charge my camera sufficiently, I will record her prancey dance for all to see.
• Yes, I changed the blog template again. I have a short attention span.
  

Late breaking update

All three of the aforementioned lost items have come home to roost:

• The glasses were in the guest bedroom. I haven't been in that room that I can remember for at least a month.
• The remote control was under my bed. Of course.
• And the mailbox key had somehow found its way into my garbage disposal.

Because I know y'all were dying to know. I really have lost it, or there's a boggart in my house. One of the two.

Losing it

In the past 24 hours, I've managed to lose a pair of glasses, the remote control for my bedroom TV, and my mailbox key.

The maddening aspect of this is that I know for a fact these items are somewhere in my house. I mean, I don't exactly take the TV remote out to run errands or anything. I haven't worn the pair of glasses I've misplaced outside the house for at least three months. I do take the mail key outside since that's where the box is, but it's a pretty short walk and for nearly nine years now, I've checked the mail and then, once I'm back inside, hung the key on this specific hook. And yet, somehow, it too is not where it should be.

I share all this because it's sort of a metaphor for how I'm feeling these days. Out of sorts. A little lost. Like the pieces of the the puzzle of my life don't quite fit together as cleanly as they used to or as they seem to for other people.

I haven't talked much about this, aside from a few oblique references, because I don't know that my battle against migraines is terribly interesting. It boils down, on some level, to an equation of Head Hurts + Medicine - Brain Power + Discomfort. But a dear brother in Christ urged me yesterday to talk about this part of things, that it's part of my life just as the pets or the job or the YouTube kitten videos are.

The preventative medication I'm taking nowadays is an anticonvulsant -- not as intellectually stunting as the Topamax was, but I'm still pretty much dumber than a bag of hammers (a very sleepy, yawning bag of hammers). It definitely blunts my creativity: finding the right word is a challenge, and my problem solving and capacity to synthesize data or concepts are limited, too -- and, to some measure along with them, my me-ness. Since I can't really engage as quickly or fully in conversation as I once could, I tend to hang back more. Coupling that with how sleepy the drugs make me -- I am drinking a whole lot of coffee and Red Bull in the afternoon these days -- I'm not exactly a social butterfly.

And that's become my real struggle -- at what point is the medication the problem versus the pain? How much of myself am I willing to shut down or drug away as part of the pain management process? My doctor and various Internet message boards assure me that the side effects will abate in time, so for now I'm willing to wait it out. Every day I weigh this, and so far, even with the dopiness and limited intellectual capacity, the medication wins: the pain is less, I think, overall, and I can still more or less function. But I'm definitely nearing the tipping point.

Please give

In the week and a half following the earthquake in Haiti, I have been glued to CNN.

Port-au-Prince lies in ruin -- its people unsheltered, its children parentless, its wounded untreated. An estimated 1 million Haitians have been displaced.

It's staggering to watch the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere struggle to right itself in the wake of a catastrophe the likes of which would gravely test the emergency readiness and response of even the richest of nations. But for a country already impoverished, where even before the quake 80 percent of its citizens lived on less than $2 a day, it's almost unimaginable how this people will rise from the ashes.

Officials there have conservatively estimated some 150,000* Haitians have been laid to rest in the last 10 days alone. How many more have yet to be unearthed? And given the lack of emergent medical care, antibiotics and the ability to conduct even relatively routine surgeries, how many more will survive the initial quake only to die in the days and weeks to come?

Inevitably it's the children's faces that are the last to leave me as I fall asleep at night -- safe and warm in my bed, a seismically-sound roof over my head and uncontaminated food and water at the ready. No want, no need.

With no skills that I can put to use there binding up the injured or sheltering the homeless or feeding the hungry, I'm left to pray. And to open my wallet.

Red Cross

AmeriCares

CARE

International Medical Corps

International Rescue Committee

Doctors Without Borders

Mercy Corps

Oxfam America

Samaritan's Purse

Save the Children

Shelterbox

UNICEF

World Food Programme

World Health Organization

* The original 70,000 figure was updated by Haitian governmental officials on 1/25/10.

On having cut my hair short

Interaction with Anthony, the homeless guy on the corner with whom I chat every workday morning.

Me: Good morning!

Anthony: Good morning. Did you cut your hair short because you were mad at someone?

Me: Er, no. Just ready for a change is all.

Anthony: Oh, good. I've had two women do that. I had to leave.

Hook 'em

New favorite thing: stainless steel straws

I love straws. Love, love, love them. I love them so much, in fact, that I typically use two at a time in my drinks (I don't know why. I've always done this. Must be an only-child thing) and even have an old-school, jadeite pull-up straw dispenser on my kitchen counter at home. Love them.

So, when I saw these, I sort of shrieked a little bit. They're simply great -- reusable (so I don't get enviro guilt about using two non-renewable straws at a time and go off and buy a carbon credit someplace), cool looking (I mean, aren't they?), and just plain unique.

A box of 50 plastic straws costs like $1 or something, so it's not like I'm saving money with these, but they're sure a pleasure to use. The only down side? Since they're pre-bent, they don't fit in my cool straw dispenser.

Happy New Year

Hope y'all have a safe, healthy start to 2010.

New favorite thing: Olay Definity Color Recapture

I wear makeup nearly every day. I think between being raised as a good Southern girl and having terrible under eye circles and various other things that need to be covered up, leaving the house barefaced is just not me.

On the weekends I don't want to go through all the hullabaloo of a full face of makeup, but I still feel naked without something on my face. Given all this I am sort of constantly on the hunt for a tinted moisturizer in particular that looks natural, doesn't get all weird by midday, provides some coverage but isn't too foundation-y, doesn't make the oiliness of my skin worse AND matches my fair, sort-of warm-colored complexion. It's a tall order, and since I've been wearing one form of foundation or other since I was I think about 12, I've tried what seems like everything out there. And it takes a lot for me to really embrace a product.

One of the skincare/makeup message boards I frequent was full of raves for Olay Definity Color Recapture, but I was skeptical. Most Olay products I've tried have been a disappointment, even since they've reformulated and made themselves all fancy, and at almost $24, this was pricey for a drugstore product. Too, my local Target and drugstores didn't carry it and, even if they had, Internet postings indicated that there were no testers available at brick-and-mortar stores to check for color matches. But the online raves were compelling and consistent, so when I was making a drugstore.com order, I threw in a bottle in the fair/light shade.

And I have to say -- I'm impressed. The tube of product is pretty large, and a little goes a long way, so while the price is definitely higher than that of other drugstore options, it also seems like you're getting more for your money. The color is forgiving, so the handful of available shade ranges should work for most people. It provides a little coverage, just enough to hide some redness and make me feel presentable, and after it dries the finish is really nice. And, best of all, it didn't exacerbate my oiliness or wear off oddly in the oily parts of my face. This stuff definitely competes with department-store tinted moisturizers I've tried in the past, and I have to say I really, really like the end result. Several people at church yesterday told me I looked great, which I attribute to this stuff.

I'll still keep more traditional foundations on hand for work and dress-up occasions, but the Color Recapture has earned its place in my makeup rotation.

Song of the day

I'm not sure how many people know of the late singer Eva Cassidy. She reinterpreted many folk, rock and jazz standards, performing them largely for Washington, DC audiences. She released a couple of albums prior to her death from melanoma in 1996 at the age of 33. A BBC broadcast of her version of "Over the Rainbow" several years after her death (an amazing interpretation of a great song) brought posthumous attention to her work and her album "Songbird."

One of my favorite songs ever is Cyndi Lauper's "Time After Time." It's been covered by artists ranging from Ronan Keating to Matchbox 20. But Eva Cassidy's version remains my favorite. Her clear, haunting voice just stays with me.

Merry Christmas

In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered. This was the first registration when Quirinius was governor of Syria. And all went to be registered, each to his own town. And Joseph also went up from Galilee, from the town of Nazareth, to Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and lineage of David, to be registered with Mary, his betrothed, who was with child. And while they were there, the time came for her to give birth. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.

And in the same region there were shepherds out in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And an angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were filled with fear. And the angel said to them, “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying,

“Glory to God in the highest,

and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!”

When the angels went away from them into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go over to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has made known to us.” And they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby lying in a manger. And when they saw it, they made known the saying that had been told them concerning this child. And all who heard it wondered at what the shepherds told them. But Mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart. And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.

And at the end of eight days, when he was circumcised, he was called Jesus, the name given by the angel before he was conceived in the womb.

--Luke 2:1-21

'O Holy Night' as sung by Cartman

I love "O Holy Night" -- it's definitely my favorite Christmas carol and probably up there in terms of my all-time favorite hymns.

After Sharon posted the lyrics to the song in both French and English, I felt compelled to poke around on YouTube to see if I could find a nice version to post here for the holidays. And -- well, this just made me laugh. I think it's the way most people sing and know the song.

An old dog learns a new trick

Life can be hard when you're a nearly-15-year-old dog. Winters are tough, even relatively mild California ones, and just getting around like you used to is a bit more challenging. Even at her advanced age, though, Daisy has remained remarkably sprightly and springy. Until about a month ago, that is, when she was trying to jump up onto the couch -- and missed. She fell, hard, and both of us sat on the floor afterward, shivering and crying a little.

So I have finally and officially entered the realm of Crazy Pet Owner with the purchase of this thing -- a pet ramp/step contraption. Yes, I realize that I am now actively enabling (with furniture, no less) one of the very behaviors I've spent most of the time I've had her trying to make her stop. But that spill she took was really nasty, and since she spends most of her time when I'm away at work sleeping on the couch, whether I want her to or not, it seemed like an almost reasonable purchase to keep her safe. Almost.

Of course, not unlike her owner, Daisy resists change. So the ramp/step contraption has spent the last two or so weeks here in the family room totally unused. I've tried to pick Daisy up and put her on it, lure her to it with baby talk and by crawling on it myself (shut up), but no dice -- she's eyed it warily and acted like it's some satanic device from outer space to be shunned and feared. No amount of coaxing on my part could change her very small mind.

Until I had a stroke of genius -- cheese! Or, more accurately, "cheese" since she's only ever eaten Velveeta. It's her third favorite thing in the world (her favorite being a tie between French fries and her SnuggleSafe fresh from the microwave), and food is one of the few things that can motivate her stubborn little self.

Here is the clearly menacing contraption with cheese on its three steps, just waiting to lure Daisy into its evil clutches.


And here's Daisy, almost literally as far as she can get away from it and still have me in her field of vision. I think she worried that I was so close to the wicked thing, but not so concerned as to jeopardize her own safety.

Eventually, she nervously, carefully crept toward the couch, the Velveeta's siren song working its magic.


And then, finally, she commits, snatching the cheese morsel off the bottom step.

Almost before I knew it, she was more than halfway up the steps, snarfing "cheese" as she went.


And then -- victory! On the couch, having used the steps to get there, Daisy was quite pleased with herself.


Of course, she immediately jumped down, waiting for me to produce more "cheese" to reward her again for her fearlessness.

Now, after this episode, she goes up and down the steps without a second thought. Like it's her J-O-B. Which, in a way, it sort of is.

And here's a picture of Boo. He didn't use the steps, but then again he never does anything he doesn't want to do.

Not sure what I think about this

Lynnie asked today if I'd seen this video yet, and I had not. It is compelling and a clear gospel call. From the Catholics.



Thoughts?

Pap schmear?

A coworker said he'd seen this public service announcement last night on CBS, and sure enough, lookee here. Once again, I don't have words. The perfect Christmas gift is, apparently, a Pap smear:



Or Hanukkah gift, even:



Yikes.

Appalled. Disgusted. Aghast.

I am rarely at a loss for words, but after reading Seattle Times columnist Danny Westneat's recent piece about a single mother of two children earning less than $19,000 a year who was audited by the IRS, I am. Not only was she audited, but after her parents (with whom she and her two little boys lived) hired an accountant to help her with the back-taxes fiasco, the IRS audited them, too.

Here's the whole column. I have no words.

Rachel Porcaro knows she's hardly rich. When you're a single mom making 10 bucks an hour, you don't need government experts to tell you how broke you are.

But that's what happened. The government not only told Porcaro she was poor. They said she was too poor to make it in Seattle.

It all started a year ago, when Porcaro, a 32-year-old mom with two boys, was summoned to the Seattle office of the Internal Revenue Service (IRS). She had been flagged for an audit.

She couldn't believe it. She made $18,992 the previous year cutting hair at Supercuts. A few hundred of that she spent to have her taxes prepared by H&R Block.

"I asked the IRS lady straight upfront — 'I don't have anything, why are you auditing me?' " Porcaro recalled. "I said, 'Why me, when I don't own a home, a business, a car?' "

The answer stunned both Porcaro and the private tax specialist her dad had gotten to help her.

"They showed us a spreadsheet of incomes in the Seattle area," says Dante Driver, an accountant at Seattle's G.A. Michael and Co. "The auditor said, 'You made eighteen thousand, and our data show a family of three needs at least thirty-six thousand to get by in Seattle."

"They thought she must have unreported income. That she was hiding something. Basically they were auditing her for not making enough money."

Seriously? An estimated 60,000 people in Seattle live below the poverty line — meaning they make $11,000 or less for an individual or $22,000 for a family of four. Does the IRS red-flag them for scrutiny, simply because they're poor?

I asked the local office of the IRS. They said they couldn't comment for privacy reasons.

"We can't give you any kind of broad interview because your request is associated with the case of an individual taxpayer," IRS Media Relations said in a statement.

So I'll just tell you Rachel's story.

She had a yearlong odyssey into the maw of the IRS. After being told she couldn't survive in Seattle on so little, she was notified her returns for both 2006 and 2007 had been found "deficient." She owed the government more than $16,000 — almost an entire year's pay.

She couldn't pay it. Her dad, Rob, has run a local painting business, Porcaro Power Painting, for 30 years. He asked his accountant, Driver, for help.

Rachel's returns weren't all that complicated. At issue, though, was that she and her two sons, ages 10 and 8, were all living at her parents' house in Rainier Beach (she pays $400 a month rent). So the IRS concluded she wasn't providing for her children and therefore couldn't claim them as dependents.

She stood to lose what is called earned income tax credit, a refund targeted to help low-income workers. You qualify only if you're working, as Rachel has been.

Driver quickly determined the IRS was wrong in how it was interpreting the tax laws. He sent in the necessary code citations and hoped that would be the end of it.

Instead, the IRS responded by launching an audit of Rachel's parents.

"I was floored," says Rob Porcaro, 59. "I get audited now and then in my business, so I've been through it before. But to have them go after me because of my daughter, well, I've never heard of anything like it."

Rob and his wife, Patty, had to send in house blueprints, bank statements, old utility bills. Rachel was asked to prove her children were hers, as well as document the money she'd spent on her children's clothes, health care and so on.

They racked up $10,000 in accountant bills — $8,000 of which Driver is trying to recover from the IRS.

In the end, the parents were cleared. The IRS also backed off trying to reclaim Rachel's earned income tax credit.

But the agency insisted Rachel couldn't prove she was supporting her children — she didn't have enough receipts — so she had to stop claiming them as dependents. A few weeks ago she paid back $1,438 (plus penalties and interest!) on that issue.

Way to go, IRS. You did an investigation likely costing tens of thousands of dollars (counting both sides). To squeeze a grand out of a single mom who did nothing wrong.

Legally, Rachel's kids now are in tax limbo. I met them at the Porcaros' house and they seemed real enough, jostling and pleading to play video games. But as far as the IRS is concerned, they don't exist. Neither Rachel nor her parents can claim them as dependents.

"I tell you, we don't buy a roll of toiler paper anymore without keeping the receipt," Rob said.

Why did this happen? The IRS won't say, but Congress has been fighting for years about the earned income tax credit for the working poor.

Republicans have called the credits "backdoor welfare" and tried to cancel them. When they controlled Congress, they ordered the IRS to ramp up audits of people who claim the credit.

In 2006, credit recipients such as Rachel were more than twice as likely to get audited as the rest of the 140 million individual tax filers.

The Porcaros say they get that the IRS can't just audit the wealthy. Poor people commit fraud, too. But the intensity and duration of the IRS' "obsession," as Rob called it, as well as that it appears the agency was trolling for the working poor, remains a sore point.

It's why they agreed to talk about their finances in the newspaper.

"I feel they're persecuting the people who are down in the mud making the bricks," Rob says. "I'm sure there are tons who don't have the resources to lawyer up. What a way to go, to have your own government take you down because you're too poor."

Driver, the tax specialist, says it's well-known that the system targets the weak — people with sloppy returns, for example, who don't tend to be well off.

"It's the way a wolf goes after the weakest sheep."

Rachel says an irony of her year in tax hell is that the IRS is right about one thing — you can't get by in Seattle on what she makes. That's why she's living with her parents. To try to make a life in our shimmering city without relying on welfare, food stamps or other public assistance.

"We're an Italian family," she said. "We're surviving as a tribe. It seems like we got punished for that."

OK, maybe I have a couple of words.

If it wasn't possible for her to provide for her children on so little money, according to the federal tax people, why was the IRS reviewers' response to that finding to audit her for missing income? If that theory were true, shouldn't social services have been notified of a case of potential neglect? I guess not. Or -- how about focusing the audit to be sure she took all deductions available to her? No, apparently not.

Um, what?

So I was minding my own business this morning, reading online weather reports because the snow level is supposed to drop low enough today for Sacramento to get snow and I was worrying about the morning's commute. Like Sacramento drivers need a reason to crash into each other.

ANYWAY, so I was checking the weather. And this ad was on the weather.com ad page for my suburb. You may need to click on the image to en-bigger it:


The "homeowners fail to take advantage" ad is what caught my eye. Does a bearded, bare chested man with long straggly hair have something to do with refinancing? Is it a play on the Geico caveman ads? I am at a loss here.

Comic of the day

Modern day Three Little Bears. Click on image to en-bigger it.

Kitten jazz hands

Yes, I know -- YouTube is like a library of cute baby/kitten videos (mixed with equal parts of footage showing people extracting their own tonsil stones and/or demonstrating how to use a flat iron).

But this kitten video is, even in that great repository of kitten videos, a stand out. So cute.

A month of laundry

What happens when you have a migraine headache for more than a month, off and on, more or less? Well, a few things, but one thing is, if you're me, that you don't do laundry. At all. Not a sock, not a pillowcase, not a dishtowel.

Until the day you run out of underwear, that is, and mercifully, that day happens to fall on a day you're pain free.


I have done I think 10 loads of laundry all told yesterday, including sheets and towels. Ten loads. For one person. That's a lot of laundry.


And here the majority of it sits, more or less folded or draped on the dining room table and chairs, waiting for the next wave of ambition and domesticity to hit me so I can put it all away.

A song about acne

I love this guy! Via Schmutzie.

Whom do you follow on Twitter?

Twitter is a strange, wonderful thing.

By reducing people's thoughts and comments effectively to haikus with its 140-character limitation, strange, funny, beautiful phrases and observations come often from people you'd least expect. Too, it's a little like the great equalizer -- so many famous people tweet under the own names or obvious handles (like Ashton Kutcher, who tweets under aplusk) that non-celebrities can get a small window into their lives and minds.

So -- who's following whom on Twitter? I follow many friends and colleagues, obviously, and lots of publications, but here's a list of other folks who amuse or inform me with their little blurbs.

• WilliamShatner: Need I say more?
• HalfPintIngalls: Yep, Laura Ingalls Wilder from Little House on the Prairie is a hilarious, anachronistic poster.
• MarkFinan: Local weather guy. Hugely helpful to have weather forecasts tweeted to my phone a few times a day now that rain's on the menu.
• NotRickWarren: He gets it, even if Pastor Warren doesn't.
• FakeJohnPiper: Screamingly funny at times. Actually makes me laugh out loud.
• FakeAPStylebook: Does anal retentive have a hyphen?
• HowardKurtz: Writer for the Washington Post and CNN media commentator.
• Sh*tMyDadSays: Generally profane, mostly amusing posts of a 29-year-old man who lives with his dad and tweets the little gems of wisdom his dad spouts throughout the day.
• Dooce: Mom of two kids in Salt Lake City who blogs and tweets about her life and raising a precocious five-year-old and baby, living with dogs (one of whom is crazy) and a funny husband.
• Wonkette: Caustic, potty-mouthed political commentary from the left.
• ShoeBlogger: Very, very funny man who blogs and tweets in an homage to Manolo Blahnik about shoes and society.
• PostSecret: The postcard art project I love so much in a Twitter version.
• LigonDuncan: Mississippi pastor I admire (and have a small crush on) provides bits of doctrine and God's Word.
• Hodgman: The humorist and embodiment of the PC in Apple commercials is a regular and frequent poster. His brain is a strange and funny place to be.
• ESVDaily: A daily Bible verse from my preferred version of the Bible.

What are yours? Share in the comments, please.

Happy Thanksgiving, y'all

This time last year I was in New York with Eric and Shu! and their beloveds, surrounded by real cold weather and hustle and bustle and about 8.3 million other people and the start of the holiday season. It was an amazing, amazing holiday.

This year I'm in California, looking forward to food and fellowship (and fun!) with my church family. The pecan pie is in the oven, the black bean corn salsa is macerating in the frig, and Daisy and Boo are both snoring on the couch while "Modern Family" blares from the DVR. This, too, is amazing.

I'm so, so blessed.

Genius

Jimmy Fallon does Neil Young doing Will Smith's "Fresh Prince of Bel-Air." Sorry about the dumb ad that may or may not be at the beginning of the video. But it's worth sitting through.



There are no words.

Ha!

President Obama in remarks to some Washington, DC school children on Monday:

"As president, I believe that robotics can inspire young people to pursue science and engineering. And I also want to keep an eye on those robots in case they try anything."

I'm so with him on the robots.

16 golden retrievers + the atom = science!

Via BoingBoing, a bunch of (incredibly well trained) golden retrievers show us the basic mechanics and construction of atoms. If Daisy were somehow part of this atomic demonstration, she'd be making a quark or an isotope or something.



I love science. And golden retrievers.

Um, what?

Those crazy French. I have to say -- this is not an experience I've ever wanted to have myself.

From Reuters:

French hotel offers guests a night as a hamster
Tue Nov 17, 2009 8:15am EST

NANTES - It's a unique concept according to its creators, a hotel in the French town of Nantes is offering the chance for people to become a hamster.

For 99 euros ($148.10) a night, you can eat hamster grain, run in a giant wheel and sleep in hay stacks in what is called the "Hamster Villa."

It's a unique experience and, the guests say, just something
different.

The owners, Frederic Tabary and Yann Falquerho, run a company which rents out unusual and bizarre places.

"The Hamster in the world of children is that little cuddly animal. Often, the adults who come here have wanted or did have hamsters when they were small," Falquerho said, dressed as a hamster.

However, the price is soon to go up as today's hamsters need, according to the owners, Wifi and a giant TV screen. (Editing by Paul
Casciato)

So, so proud

So two of my sisters in Christ, Lynnie and Doria, are running a marathon today. I mean, running it on purpose, because they want to -- not because someone with an axe is chasing them, which is I think what it would take for me to run 26 miles.

I've watched them over the months leading up to this race, and their example has just been amazing. They've been committed to their training regime -- consistent with a schedule of running and time in the gym, mixing up running outside together and pacing themselves alone in the gym on a treadmill to get their distances up and their times down. It's been convicting and inspiring, their ability to see a far-away goal and deliberately, one day at a time, take the necessary steps to meet it. Challenging steps that pushed them physically and mentally. Uncomfortable steps that they worked through time and again.

On top of this, they are are also beautiful and smart and kind and generous and godly and funny and all-around great women.

I am so proud of them -- and I am a better person for counting them as friends and sisters in Christ.

What's wrong with this picture?

I wore two different colored shoes to work today.

And I didn't even notice until a coworker pointed it out.

Remembering veterans today

“As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them.”
-- John F. Kennedy

Two great things that go great together

I love the Beastie Boys -- this is not news. And I love "Star Wars" -- the original trilogy, anyway.

Apparently there are other Star Wars geeks out there who love the Beastie Boys, too.

Day, night, day, night, day?

Scenes from a long couple of days in the building...

Poor Piglet, scapegoated again

More swine flu humor at Piglet's expense. From Lindsay. Who I miss and think should go to a community college here in Sac for a couple of years instead of going away to school.