Category Archives: Idon’tknowwhattocallit Category


I was reading about what is causing our health care costs to rise and repeatedly noted that 78,000,000 (78 Million for you three-zero-comma challenged) Baby Boomers are hitting retirement age and subject to the extra medical needs that all old people need; and that these same old-farts-to-be will have at least $166,000 in out of pocket medical expenses if retiring today and living to 100.

Do you realize that if we killed off the Baby Boomers*, the U.S. could apply almost $13,000,000,000,000 to the deficit?? Of course, if you want conservative numbers since not all of these BBs will live to be 100, we could lower the estimate to $6,000,000,000,000.

13 Trillion Dollars (or a minimum of 6 trillion)!

Hey, you want to talk Death Panel? I’ve got your Death Panel right here!

*To my two sisters who are technically categorized as Baby Boomers. . .  I’ll miss you. Really.


Our rabbit, Potter, lives in a large cage – a rabbit run, if you will – and has a covered hutch inside of it that he sleeps in. Every couple of days (or once a week if you are me), the hutch needs to be cleaned out since it doubles as his outhouse.

The other day, I made an unpleasant and very odd discovery when I lifted the lid off his hutch.

On top of the straw, just inside the little doorway, was a dead baby bird.

Granted, above the cage, there is a robin’s nest, so you can easily deduce where the bird came from. For whatever reason, it had fallen out of the nest and into the rabbit’s cage. It would have easily dropped through the wire on top but was prevented from falling through to the ground by the much smaller spaced wiring used on the floor of the cage.

But that’s where it gets odd. You see, the baby bird had fallen inside of the cage. There’s no way it could have fallen into the hutch because it has a lid on it, and the cage’s lid is positioned over that. The baby bird, if it had been alive when it had fallen, also could not have crawled its way into the hutch because there’s a lip on the doorway that keeps the bedding inside the hutch. The only logical explanation for how the baby bird ended up inside the hutch is that Potter had carried it into the hutch.

I would like to believe that Potter found the distressed baby bird and some kind of instinct prompted him to take it inside his hutch to keep it safe. It’s unlikely, but heck, you never know. It wasn’t because Potter had decided to try a miniaturized version of roast duck, either, because the baby bird’s tiny body showed no outward sign of injury in the way of bites or scratches.

To me, it was a bit of a sad discovery, and really pretty irrelevant, but thought I’d share it with you anyway.


I want to like the the new show on FOX, Lie to Me. I really, really do. Tim Roth? Brilliant on the big screen, “I love you, Honey Bunny.”  Only two problems I have with him: I can’t understand most of what he says so I have to turn the close-caption option on for my TV (stupid British accents – speak English!), effectively pissing off Mr. DD; and every once in a while, Roth cocks his head in a way that reminds me of David Caruso on CSI:Miami, and frankly, I find that as annoying as hell.



(Sidenote: whenever I struggle to remember David Caruso’s name, I only have to recall the very first episode from South Park and the line: “Ike! Do your impression of David Caruso’s career!” “Aaaiieeeee!”) (OMG. That was 12 years ago!)

And then we have Kelli Williams. Remember her from The Practice? Me neither, since I never watched the show, but IMDB is useful when it comes to links.

Kelli, Kelli, Kelli. Her characther’s husband is cheating on her. She knows it. The rest of the characters know it, and I can’t help but wonder if the writers thought that they were bringing irony into their show by having an expert team of lie-sniffers ignore the fact that one of their team member’s spouse is lying to them all. On the other hand, how believable is it to write in a lying spouse in a show that sniffs out liars??

kellikellinewActually, my annoyance with Kelli is the hair. It’s 80’s awful (left pix). It makes her look older than me, and she’s only 38. In a recent episode, (right pix) after enough complaints must have been made over the crusty and poorly constructed feathered ‘do, she sported a modern, if not uninspiring style.

My husband’s happy about the change. I’m no longer screaming, “Brush out that horrid rat’s nest, you simp!” every time she steps into a scene. Unfortunately, it was a temporary change, or else the next episode is out of order, because the old hair-style is back.


This post had been sitting in my draft pile for a while and since no one out there seems to be in the mood to comment, even though I have given you the opportunity to hijack comments; or posted pictures of the adorableness that is my daughter, I thought I might as well publish this since it is completely and equally uninspiring and one less draft I need to look at.

You are welcome.


In spite of past comments here, I really do find Nebraska a lovely place to live. In the winter, it holds the stark beauty of a desert; in the spring, it’s an oasis full of countless varieties of life.

I took an hour and a half drive this weekend to the northeast area of the state. I regretted that I had not brought my camera.

I saw pastures that reminded me of topographical photographs of South American pyramids long eroded away. The terraces the farmer put in decades ago, while washed mostly away, left ridges like scars as the land is left  naturalize since it’s more profitable for the owner than to farm it and sell the crops.

I saw where homes once were, where families once were raised on the land, but there were no buildings or fences. The lanes had been long disced under, churned back into the earth. Only trees planted as windbreaks decades ago remained like massive and organic grave markers. Each spring, their leaves come back green and each fall, they fall to the ground, but children no longer play in their crisp piles.

I saw an abandoned piece of farm machinery, rusted from years of rain, snow, hail and sun. Its color that of dried blood. Outmoded and unwanted, it was left next to the property line. Many years ago, there probably was a hand-painted For Sale sign tacked to the nearby fence post.

I saw what looked to be a drift of snow in the middle of a field, strangely out of place with the warming weather. As I drove by, the drift morphed and lifted and fell again. Hundreds of Franklin’s Gulls were feeding off the fallen grain while dozens more circled overhead. If I had opened my windows, I might have felt myself transported back to the beach as their calls carried over the winds.

And I saw prairie grass, so high and so golden, it looked like an animal’s soft, furry pelt as it ruffled in the wind. I imagined the hand of God lightly stroking the tips of the grass to feel its softness and the heat of the ground emanating from below like one would when reaching for the comfort of a beloved pet.

I love driving for miles and still be able to imagine how this land must have looked 100 years ago. Even 200 years ago. The outcropping of trees and terracing give away the simple man’s dream of tending his own land. The small towns between that still remain validate that many survived on the land. But there are many more that did not as indicated by collapsed buildings, their windows black and paneless against the weathered gray of the siding. I don’t drive past the farms that are still intact and wonder about their children, about their past. Instead I think about the ghosts and wonder how could they have just disappeared without anyone caring and mostly unnoticed, except by me.


It’s a good thing I’m sending XBoy to a Catholic school or else I wouldn’t know that it was Lent. I totally blew off Ash Wednesday. Not that I would have done anything different, but you know, I like to keep on top of things around me.

My son has magnanimously decided to give up his Nintendo DS for Lent. Without any prompting whatsoever from us. As kids, Mom would make us give up chocolate with only St. Patrick’s Day giving any reprieve with the traditional gold-foiled wrapped chocolate coins. It only became a hardship when I reached my teen years and something called “PMS” would drive me to the brink.

After I left home, I didn’t partake in this particular custom surrounding Lent. Until I had XBoy, that is.

So I’ve decided that this year for Lent, I’m going to give up swearing on my blog.

I think that’s a rather impressive if you consider that out of  1,060 published posts, I’ve said “fuck” in 215 of them. That’s not taking into consideration all the other four-letter words I’ve dropped without nary a second thought.

So….what did you give up for the Lenten season?


From the MyWay news website (bold is my emphasis)

Suspect arrested for greasy imprints in Neb. town


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Nov 22, 12:15 AM (ET) 

OMAHA, Neb. (AP) – Police have arrested a man suspected of leaving greasy, graphic imprints on the windows of stores, churches and schools in a small Nebraska town. A 35-year-old man was caught in the act by police early Wednesday morning, Cherry County Attorney Eric Scott said Friday. The man hasn’t been charged yet, but authorities believe he is the vandal some townsfolk have dubbed the “Butt Bandit.”

Beginning in spring of 2007, a mystery vandal visited businesses at night, pressing his naked behind – sometimes his groin, sometimes both – on windows. The marks were made with lotion or petroleum jelly, and while police had earlier worried copycat criminals were getting involved, Scott said they now believe it’s “the act of a lone deviant.”

“This isn’t normal behavior for Valentine, Neb.,” Scott said. “It’s an embarrassment for the hardworking people who live here.”

The man was spotted by police about 3:30 a.m. Wednesday and arrested without incident, Scott said. The suspect appears to be the same man caught on a surveillance camera at the middle school last year, he said.

Valentine, a town of about 2,650 in remote north-central Nebraska, lies near the scenic Niobrara River. The city was named one of the top “wilderness” towns in the country last year by National Geographic Adventure magazine.

People from around the country send Valentine’s Day cards to the city’s post office so they can be mailed out with the word “Valentine” stamped on them.

The past two summers, the bandit struck business after business, window after window.

He stopped over the fall and winter.

During one particularly brazen session, virtually all the windows at a local hotel were imprinted.

I *heart* Nebraska.