I hate the behavior, NOT men in general

My guilty pleasure? Watching The Supernanny. Generally the family in question on the show istotally cooperative. The guys toight? Couch-potato dad absolutely refuses to participate (he traveles 50 weeks out of the year).

The dad is the most selfish idividual I've ever seen, constantly undermines the mom, doesn't believe in or support the parenting techniques, and for all intents and purposes, reminds me of my bastard-of-an-ex husband.

Not that we had children together -- no, I was too afraid of him for that. No, it is the way that he approached everything, includinnnnnnnnnnnnnng.... home repair, maintenance on the marriage, and working because he bowed to the almighty buck and not to the sanctity of the human ties that bonded us in marriage.

So this guy on Supernanny... he just pissed me off. And it made me glad that I'm not married to him, or that bastard-ex, either.

Seeing the parents take their children for granted, is especially disconcerting to me. I hate when parents have so much in life, and never think that they might be harming their children irreperably... in fact, bringing up the very peoples in society from which they are trying to protect their families.

It just makes me sick because I want to make a difference... and I'm clueless as to how I could, at this point in my life.

My Lance...

M.W. and I rode the Los Gatos Creek trail on Saturday, from Palo Alto to Los Gatos (I think). It was a pretty challenging ride up the creek, but it went really really fast, back down.

We have an incredibly competitive nature between the two of us. He is old and fast, I am young and built for comfort. Our bikes act as the "Great Equilizer" because I persist while his energy comes in spurts. The equilizer part? Wheels.

M.W. and I always try to work as a team. Whether it's cutting up fruit or going on a dinner (or donut) run, we like to keep eachother company, take some of the burden out of burdensome things, and most especially, find new ways to love, to laugh, and to see if I can make him spit soy mocha out of his nose.

As we were "racing" to where the car was parked on Saturday, I shared my water with him, doing the cool pass-off manovre that people with actual coordination and athletic ability can do. As he handed me back the bottle and then proceeded to stay at my side (instead of leaving me in the dust, a task which is allotted to him by the eighty-eleven extra gears that his shiny new K2 has) and yell to anyone who could hear: "Hey Lance... does Sheryl ride with you? Look who I've got with me?"

Had I not been going 20 mph down a board-walk clad hill, I'd have kissed him. Or wept. Or both. My reply? I yelled: "Who needs Lance Armstrong for a boyfriend when I've got my best friend in the whole wide world, right here? Eat your heart out, Sheryl."

My heart is actually bursting. What a great day!!!

Saluting Law Enforcement Officers

Going through all of my old stuff, I found the business card of the Police Officer who came to my former home and disarmed my former spouse, when he attempted to eliminate us from the planet.

After calling 9-1-1, the officers very carefully approached him, disarmed the bastard, handcuffed him, and took him for a 48-hour cooling-off period in the looney-bin.

There was more than one officer, but the one whose card I have, I just sent a thank-you note, cc-ing it to his Chief. Can you imagine that these guys and girls put themselves into the line of fire daily? Each day they are thrust into the very situation from which I called them to extract me.

Shuh! Can you believe how brave they are? Does that make them crazy too? How about our service men and women?

NO! I don't think they are crazy. I think they are young, bold, and trying to make a difference, make the world a better place.

So thanks Officer Freeman, thanks anyone else who was there, and thanks to all of the other law enforcement officers who are, for the most part, of impeccable character and certainly braver than anyone ought have the right to be.

Peace out.

Who is Tupey?

My darling sister's website -- www.rupetupe.blogspot.com -- is at least named in part for our late Aunt Ruth's dog, named Tupey. It was the most gawd-awful dog with the worst name imaginable. However, people do love their dogs.

Jayleigh's latest post includes a video of her naughty-poochie-poo named Kodiak, who looks like my old dog (may she rest in peace), Teddy.

I told M.W. the other day that I wanted a dog. Neither of us live in places where dogs are allowed. But that doesn't stop me from stomping and pouting about it. On Yahoo! News photos a couple of days ago, there was a red panda. A red panda? A red panda. Anyways, I want a red panda for a dog.

So there, M.W. (stomp)

I'm the Rodney Dangerfield of Meteorology...

In essence, I get no respect.

In reality... I get a lot of it. It's so weird how your coworkers show that they accept you by giving you hell. Mine call me everything except my name.

Why? Because they called me something not close to my name on my first day of work. I corrected them. Is that so wrong? My real name "rhymes" with Danielle. On the daily telcon, someone called me Danielle the other day. My coworkers could not believe that I refrained from throwing a hissy-fit. Now they call me Danielle. Yesterday, the nickname was "Pinky Tuscadero" of "Happy Days" fame. Why? Wore a pink polo-shirt.

Tomorrow, though, my nickname will be "hardass" unless I get some respect. I think.