Book 'im, Dano
Thanks to the wise and powerful Arizona legislators, I, as well as all other public school employees (and probably a lot of other employees) am required to get fingerprinted in order to prove that I'm not a criminal (at least, I'm guessing that's the reason, though I suppose I could be wrong). So about 8 or so years ago, I submitted to this, and I remember feeling disgruntled and disrespected - which is often a feeling I have when the wise and powerful Arizona legislators stick their noses into the education business. Anyway, I got over it and figured it was a one and done deal. Little did I know that for whatever reason, the fingerprints only last for 8 years. So I found out a couple of weeks ago that I needed to go and get fingerprinted again. Now let's think about this. I mean, I thought it was pretty stupid to have to get fingerprinted in the first place, but having to get fingerprinted in the second place makes no sense whatsoever (at least to me). I assume that if I had decided to commit a crime in the past 8 years, and if I had been arrested and convicted of that crime, they would have matched up my fingerprints and said, "Hey, this guy is a criminal and a teacher. That's not a good thing." But what happens after eight years? Do my fingerprints change? I don't think so. Are they worried that I might have burned them off with acid or something (like getting them surgically altered) in order to be able to commit crimes, get arrested and be convicted without having my fingerprints reveal that I'm also a teacher? I just don't get it. But because I didn't see that I had a choice in the matter, I went ahead and signed up for a time to get my fingerprints taken, got my money order (to make this even better, it also cost me around 80 bucks to get the fingerprints that I didn't want to have done, done). And I drove all the way across town to the Sheriff's station, found the fingerprint division, and went in. I have to admit, I was kind of taken aback. I'm not sure why, but I was thinking this would be a "cop place" with a bunch of cops sitting at desks and a gruff sergeant at the desk. I imagined there would be shady looking characters sitting on wooden benches with handcuffs securing them in place, bad coffee, and some juicy "cop talk" about perps and un-subs and the like. This was nothing like that. Instead, it was like an old folks' home. The lady at the front desk - was old. The guy taking someone else's prints - was old. And the lady that called my name to take my prints - was old. And when some volunteers came in from whatever it was they'd been doing - they were old too. And the "cop talk" sounded a lot like bickering about why they were back so soon and why they didn't take the right box of whatever they were supposed to take, and stuff like that. Anyway, as the lady took my fingerprints, she made a comment about how nice my fingerprints were. Now what do you say to that? I mean, I've been told I have nice teeth, and nice eyes and even some other stuff that I won't go into here because I doubt anyone wants to hear it, but this was definitely a first, and I have to admit that I was kind of flattered. I mean, I always thought I had some pretty nice prints - sometimes I'll press my fingertip on a piece of metal and admire the resultant print - but it's nice to hear it from someone else. Especially someone who has probably seen thousands of fingerprints.
Official confirmation for Boston
As many of you are probably aware, last December I ran the race of my life and managed to qualify for the Boston marathon (with exactly 26 seconds to spare). Figuring this was a once in a lifetime opportunity (seeing as how I ran the race of my life) I went ahead and signed up several weeks ago. Now usually when I sign up for a marathon, it's a simple matter of filling out the information and paying the fee, but for this one I had to submit my time and the event so they could check and make sure I wasn't trying to scam my way in. So it took several weeks, but just the other day I received my "official confirmation" from the Boston Athletic Club, and I have to admit it gave me a little bit of a goosebumpy moment.
Balloon Boy
How stupid was that whole thing?
The U of A game is on, so I guess that's all for now. Until next time, may your fingerprints remain breathtakingly beautiful, may your aspirations remain achievable, and may your feet remain planted firmly on the ground (unless you're taking a trip and flying… or skydiving… or hang gliding… or cliff diving… or traveling in a zeppelin… or jumping for joy… or experiencing zero gravity… or, okay I think you get the idea).
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Joe D., Dissing the Cat, and the Running Roller Coaster
Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio?
The short answer is that I've been too busy/distracted/lazy/slothful/irresponsible/etc. to post any entries. Or maybe nothing has happened that seems worth writing about (though that hasn't really stopped me before - case in point, I'm currently writing about not writing, which is either a clever and insightful example of irony or a desperate attempt to fill this space, and in the end, does it really matter?). So the bottom line is that millions of readers world-wide have been desperately craving a fix of mildly amusing anecdotal entries. Can you imagine the horror of such a situation? Grim-face, empty-eyed automatons shuffling joylessly through the long and tedious hours of their days without even a ray of hope to shine a light at the end of the tunnel. It's enough to make one shudder. And I feel really bad about it. So bad, that I'm currently entering an entry in an effort to alleviate the gloom and cut through the fog. So if you're reading this, we'll assume your day just got a little bit better. And on we go.
More cat news
In my desperate search for events worth mulling over and then spewing out on these pages, I turn once again to the cat known as "She-she Squeakers Kittyface" because she's a highly interesting character whose struggles and exploits shed light on the human condition in highly metaphorical ways that require deeply thoughtful analysis. Or not. Anyway, she's a very strange cat, as all cats seem to be, but she's becoming even friendlier as time goes by. Case in point, the other night, she even allowed me to pet her while she sat next to me on the couch - and I only had to hold her a little to keep her from getting away. But she's still weird, and Carrie and I were commenting on one of the weird things she was doing the other day, when Katie happened to overhear us and got quite offended because we were making fun of "her" cat. For some reason, she decided to perceive this as a personal attack on her as a cat owner, don't ask me why. Now I've heard about certain people who get all wrapped up in their children and feel that everything their kids do is a reflection on them, and even certain people who get all wrapped up in their dogs and dress them up like people and let them sleep in their bed at night and stuff like that, but this seemed like a little bit of an over-reaction to me (and to Carrie). Anyway, to be forewarned is to be forearmed, so the next time you see Katie, make sure you only say complimentary things about the cat or she'll probably get all up in your face and slap you down - or she'll cry. And I don't know which would be worse.
The life of a runner…
At least for me these days, is filled with ups and downs and fits and starts. The good news is that I recently had the first two-week stretch of the year where nothing really hurt. No bursitis in my hip flexors, no achilles aches, just nice relaxed runs that felt good before, during and after. The bad news is that since then my calves have decided to act up - first the left and then the right, and while neither seems to be a major issue, it's enough to be frustrating and make me wonder what the heck is going on. But I'm still able to get out and about, and I've only really missed a couple of runs, and maybe it all serves as a reminder of how great it is when everything goes well, but maybe it's also a reminder of the fact that I'm not a spring chicken anymore and there are even dark moments when I wonder whether give the whole thing up and switch over to full-time cycling or something. Of course, then I read about 70-year-olds who run sub 3-hour marathons or who've run tens of thousands of days in a row without ever skipping a day and I make a wish upon a star and hope for the best. And this afternoon, I'll go for a run. And I'll enjoy the heck out of every mile.
A few more random magnetic word sentences found in my classroom at the end of the day
•We could make you poison prisoner's pie, but life always smiles.
•Blow off love for champagne.
•Santa is kissing my ferocious squirming reindeer.
Can anyone believe the Broncos are 5-0?
It's a strange and mysterious world.
There's no topping that last one, so until next time, which will hopefully be sooner than it was this time, may your deadlines be reachable, may your ups outweigh your downs, and may your favorite football team beat the Patriots in overtime (unless your favorite team happens to be the Patriots, in which case I hope you wind up in a tie).
The short answer is that I've been too busy/distracted/lazy/slothful/irresponsible/etc. to post any entries. Or maybe nothing has happened that seems worth writing about (though that hasn't really stopped me before - case in point, I'm currently writing about not writing, which is either a clever and insightful example of irony or a desperate attempt to fill this space, and in the end, does it really matter?). So the bottom line is that millions of readers world-wide have been desperately craving a fix of mildly amusing anecdotal entries. Can you imagine the horror of such a situation? Grim-face, empty-eyed automatons shuffling joylessly through the long and tedious hours of their days without even a ray of hope to shine a light at the end of the tunnel. It's enough to make one shudder. And I feel really bad about it. So bad, that I'm currently entering an entry in an effort to alleviate the gloom and cut through the fog. So if you're reading this, we'll assume your day just got a little bit better. And on we go.
More cat news
In my desperate search for events worth mulling over and then spewing out on these pages, I turn once again to the cat known as "She-she Squeakers Kittyface" because she's a highly interesting character whose struggles and exploits shed light on the human condition in highly metaphorical ways that require deeply thoughtful analysis. Or not. Anyway, she's a very strange cat, as all cats seem to be, but she's becoming even friendlier as time goes by. Case in point, the other night, she even allowed me to pet her while she sat next to me on the couch - and I only had to hold her a little to keep her from getting away. But she's still weird, and Carrie and I were commenting on one of the weird things she was doing the other day, when Katie happened to overhear us and got quite offended because we were making fun of "her" cat. For some reason, she decided to perceive this as a personal attack on her as a cat owner, don't ask me why. Now I've heard about certain people who get all wrapped up in their children and feel that everything their kids do is a reflection on them, and even certain people who get all wrapped up in their dogs and dress them up like people and let them sleep in their bed at night and stuff like that, but this seemed like a little bit of an over-reaction to me (and to Carrie). Anyway, to be forewarned is to be forearmed, so the next time you see Katie, make sure you only say complimentary things about the cat or she'll probably get all up in your face and slap you down - or she'll cry. And I don't know which would be worse.
The life of a runner…
At least for me these days, is filled with ups and downs and fits and starts. The good news is that I recently had the first two-week stretch of the year where nothing really hurt. No bursitis in my hip flexors, no achilles aches, just nice relaxed runs that felt good before, during and after. The bad news is that since then my calves have decided to act up - first the left and then the right, and while neither seems to be a major issue, it's enough to be frustrating and make me wonder what the heck is going on. But I'm still able to get out and about, and I've only really missed a couple of runs, and maybe it all serves as a reminder of how great it is when everything goes well, but maybe it's also a reminder of the fact that I'm not a spring chicken anymore and there are even dark moments when I wonder whether give the whole thing up and switch over to full-time cycling or something. Of course, then I read about 70-year-olds who run sub 3-hour marathons or who've run tens of thousands of days in a row without ever skipping a day and I make a wish upon a star and hope for the best. And this afternoon, I'll go for a run. And I'll enjoy the heck out of every mile.
A few more random magnetic word sentences found in my classroom at the end of the day
•We could make you poison prisoner's pie, but life always smiles.
•Blow off love for champagne.
•Santa is kissing my ferocious squirming reindeer.
Can anyone believe the Broncos are 5-0?
It's a strange and mysterious world.
There's no topping that last one, so until next time, which will hopefully be sooner than it was this time, may your deadlines be reachable, may your ups outweigh your downs, and may your favorite football team beat the Patriots in overtime (unless your favorite team happens to be the Patriots, in which case I hope you wind up in a tie).
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