The Funny Side of Halloween

There's been a lot of drama centered around Halloween in the past week. Allow me to share...

• This year, as in all others, Americans get the opportunity to view "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown." Did anyone miss something in their childhood about a great pumpkin arriving in a pumpkin patch on Halloween? My hand is raised. Anywho, Husband gets absolutely, totally and mercilessly pissed off at this show. Yet predictably, he's glued to the special in disgust year after year. It's comedy to watch him.
  
• At the office, we were exposed to the quandry of whether or not--or how--to celebrate Halloween. With several who either consider the holiday a devil celebration or who do not celebrate any holiday for religious reasons, the risk of offending was sad and certain. After a week-long hilarious debate, we ended up with a grouping of jolly folks eating eye ball-style deviled eggs and spinach dip from a bread coffin located in an isolated room.
  
• Finally, the group of teenagers who play in a garage band a few doors down have carried their instruments to the curb. Evidently, they plan to entertain trick-or-treaters with the same song they have played over and over again every Saturday for the past three months. This should be interesting--although it strikes out my plan to sit out in the cool air and greet the kids before they ring the doorbell.

The night is young. Who knows what lies ahead...

The Great Magazine Identity Theft

A few tiny red flags go up in my house when we start receiving more than 6 new magazine subscriptions within three days...none of which we have actually subscribed to.

My brother & sis-in-law kindly get us Smithsonian, National Geographic for Kids, and Shallow Water Angler every year for Christmas, and I was warned about a month ago that the company may have screwed things up.

But a month ago can be a very long time you know, and I frankly didn't remember that whole conversation. So last night, I sat down with said influx of new magazines and began calling their subscription departments.


Q: "Um, I'm now receiving your magazine and I didn't buy this. What's going on here?"
A: "Well, the magazine was purchased in September and right after, the subscription was changed to someone else's name and address."


Of course after calling magazine office after magazine office to hear the same answer to my panicked question...and being given the name of the same bogus-sounding company that was the conduit for the subscription purchases...I began to sweat, swear and wrangle husband into the entire maddening affair.

I immediately feel the flames of danger as the Identity Theft Gods sent a feverish panic to my mind. After all, I have listened to several (not one, not two, but three) separate presentations on identity theft at work lately. According to what I'd heard, a common scenario is for people to steal your card number, buy something in your name (with your billing address) and immediately transfer the goods or service to their address. Most of the time, this all goes down before the innocent victim even knows.

I was already calculating how difficult it was going to be to clear my name and the other unknown purchases that were probably made. After a brief moment of calmness, I remembered the little conversation with sis-in-law from a month ago and left a voice mail for her with an emergency message.

Turns out, she'd purchased 14 different subscriptions from a Girl Scout mom in her office, and the benevolent company decided that my household needed all of them instead of spreading the love to the intended recipients. After realizing the error, it apparently started cancelling subscriptions to us and sending them to the right people...or at least we hope.

As she listened to me trying to talk through all this, my sis-in-law was getting really quiet--an obvious precurser to some serious rage. (Don't confront someone who's getting ready to move to Texas.) I'm pretty confident she's going to rip the company a new ass. Too bad they already have her dinero.

As for me, I've got tons of reading material and will enjoy my first and only edition of Self, Outdoor World, National Wildlife Federation, Field and Stream and the myriad of other magazines I have for the month.

Drums, Girls & Dangerous Pie

Gropius normally doesn't post book reviews, much less reviews of 6th grade Scholastic Books. But I have to tell you: get your hands on Girls, Drums & Dangerous Pie and spend one weekend day reading that puppy. If you have kids in your life, have them read it or read it to them.

Every sixth grader in Sarasota County is being equipped with it, and our staff at work was strongly encouraged to read it as well (since we are providing the funds for the giveaway).

It's about an eighth grader stuck in the midst of obsession over outward appearances, girls, social order and an annoying younger brother. When his brother is diagnosed with leukemia, everything changes. But this is not a pity party story. I laughed. I cried. I felt the pangs of injustice, the irritation of an unforeseen circumstance changing the comfort of normalcy, and most of all, I felt incredible inspiration of the "everyday hero" variety. It reminded me that sometimes we do have to completely change our lives for people we care about, and the "inconvenience" of having to make those choices is far more important than the consequences of plowing ahead, unconsious.

I'm always re-surprised to realize that us adults often need the messages we give to kids with that knowing language...even more than 6th graders need them. Go get the book and read it. Tell the book store Gropius sent you.

The Halloween "Edge"

Is it just me, or are you finding it a little harder to get in the Halloween spirit this year?

Three things out of the ordinary for our fam this year:

1. I decided to forgo one of the charming (yet dwindling) local pumpkin patches and buy a stem-rotted pumpkin from Lowes. It wasn't a move I fretted about later, either. It was easy and it got the job done.

2. I struggled finding the momentum to haul down the Halloween decorations from the attic. When they came down, I didn't pull my usual stunt of going out to buy more.

3. We didn't even discuss having our regular Halloween party. And Halloween is on a Friday night this year. A little girl from down the street (who is perpetually walking around any time of year with a candy bar or chips in her mouth) has asked me repeatedly if we're having the party. For the millionth time: "NO!"

What's the deal? I can't figure it out, but we're just not into it this year. Maybe it's because the young one isn't so young anymore...and he wants to dress up as a girl. (Something I'm cool with but Husband is a little leary of.) Or it could be the fact that we're all scared enough by the economy. We're facing enough blood-sucking ghouls for real with the headlines every day.

We did send out Halloween cards to a few folks we don't get to see very often. A gesture which Husband freaked out about. "WHAT? Christmas cards once a year are one thing...now I have to sign HALLOWEEN cards?" A comment which solicited the quick command, "Yes. Sign them!"

Although the deed was done and the cards were mailed, it still didn't get us in the spooking mood. Are you?

Fall Lettuce Is Comin' Up

Should I complain that you can't grow any tomato but an anemic tomato here in Florida? Or that the brutal heat of the summer kills any vegetable that makes an attempt to push itself out of the soil? No, I shouldn't.

Husband's newly planted Fall garden is coming up. And although it took a hell of a lot of horse poop and soil, it's organic as all get out and the fruits of his labor are coming to life. Today I took my first bite of lettuce on my FBLT (fake bacon, lettuce & tomato sandwich). It was green, good and I knew there was no trace of pesticide on it.

At a time when so few folks even know where their food comes from, I'm proud of his little plot of food-producing dirt. (Although it's funny when you see a few bean plants coming up. What the hell are we going to do with 3 beans?)

Husband tells me that we could be the only people in America eating soon, because our economy is on the brink of collapse and no one knows anything about how to actually grow food anymore. If Publix ceases to exist one day, come on over to the backyard garden. Husband may fight you off with a shovel, but I'll lobby for a carrot or two for you...if they come up this year. (Sorry, photo was taken during last year's garden. And by the way, he asked me to tell you, and I quote: "Those carrots were supposed to be small.")

Pungent Products 2

Today, for the first time in a long while, I cleaned my desk at work. I went to grab the Clorox Disinfecting Wipes and accidentally dumped out what seemed like a quart of disinfecting juice from the one-wipe-left container.

It landed right in the croch and all down the left pant leg, creating a very realistic impression of a bladder control issue. After reviving from the "pee in your pants" look, I realized that I had assumed a very pungent odor.

The fact that I was wearing an ample level of disinfectant capable of killing cold & flu viruses didn't do much for me. I'm already sick.

Thanks for nothing, Clorox. Oh well, at least the pants aren't bleached. As for my desk...now I can't find anything.

Pungent Products

I love going to Bath & Body Works every couple of months to stock up on lotions, body wash, anti-bacterial stuff and other things I don't really need. (It reminds me of a very funny commentary I read in Uncommon Blonde's blog a few weeks back.)

But next time I go to B&BW, I'm going to be a little more careful about sniffing before I buy. You see, the Cucumber Melon foaming anti-bacterial waterless hand sanitizer has gone too far. For months I've been trying to stay the course and use up the small bottle I have in my car, but that time has ended. And there's still product left in the bottle.

Every time I squirt it out after touching a gas pump, change from a drive-through or a Kleenex, it nearly knocks me out. I've had multiple riders who are repelled almost to the point of nausea at its overwhelming odor. And if I use even a dime-sized amount, rest assured I will reek of it for the rest of the day, even after multiple scalding hand washings (yes, with actual soap and water).

Frankly, if someone was coming at me I wouldn't need pepper spray. One small squirt of the Cucumber Melon would render them helpless. So beware, all would-be attackers and smelly shoppers: this product needs to get pulled from the market.

Dancing in Sarasota....

So this guy named Matt has a funny dance. He was paid by Stride gum to travel to a gazillion places around the world to do "The Dance." I'm so ready to do this in Sarasota. With or without you, Matt. It would make a great and bizarre video to incorporate The Dance in front of...

• ...U.S. 41 on prostitute alley.
• ...Hollywood 20 on a Friday night.
• ...outside of the Sarasota Opera before a performance.
• ...at any and all Fall fundraising dinners.

Who's in?

The Silver Sound Effect Alert

Driving out of town for my class yesterday, I encountered several digital signs over the highway indicating that a full "Silver Alert" was in place. I nearly had a wreck trying to read the signs, which also announced an involved vehicle: a silver car of a certain make and model with a certain license plate number, etc. That's a lot of information to read as you're going 75 mph.

Where the hell have I been? I had to phone husband to decode. A Silver Alert is evidently issued when a senior is missing.

No problem. In this part of Florida, it's like asking you to sift through 89% of the population. And the added irony of the silver car elicited a smirk.

After reaching my class, a different type of Silver Alert was enacted. An older gentlemen who is a vocal player in the class discussions showed up in full form, on cue without disappointment. Just as he's done in the past classes, he felt compelled to interrupt the presentation frequently to ask the instructor irrelevant questions about her personal career and to share 100% irrelevant stories. Now I don't mean to be harsh, but please man, spare us. A knowing glance exchanged with the gal beside me indicated that she, too, was on full Silver Alert.

Just to make the mix even more interesting, another overzealous participant provided some great sound effects. Let's just call her Sound Effect Sally. Sally literally cannot contain herself. It was as if she is having a personal conversation with the instructor.

During the three hours of our time together, she verbally called out things like: "Mmmm hmmm." "Oh, okay." "Cool!" "Oh I get it." "WOW!" "Woooaaaah!" "NO!" And when a heavy handout was passed out on two occasions, Sound Effect Sally responded with noises like: "Shhhhhkkkkkkrrrrr!" and "Mmmm. Mmmm. Mmmm." Although entertaining in ways, it was more bizarre than anything. Is there a new alert system the state of Florida can create for this type of eccentric behavior?

Really, Facebook? REALLY?

Since I've been on Facebook, I've used it a bit to put the word out when there's a new posting on Gropius. This evening, after I posted the last post (completely harmless, I might add), it flagged this innocent little blog as "malicious." I'm guessing because it had the word "gay."

I will repeat the SNL skit by saying, "Really, Facebook? REALLY?"

If you read the blog (or if you know me), you know that I really have ZERO bias for or against anyone and ZERO tolerance for those who discriminate. The post was a musing on someone's silly quirk...having no real connection to anything objectionable about "gay."

Facebook, let's get serious here. Are you a tool to promote social networking, or are you a social networking Nazi? I think I know the answer...and Gropius may be banned from Facebook forever with that last dig. But it's worth it.

Just Because You're a Single 50 Year Old Man, Doesn't Mean You're Gay

...And so what if you are gay? We still love you just the same.

This is the message we need one of our neighbors to get. He's a single man who lives alone and also happens to have a career that's usually gender-specific, leaning toward the women's side of things. And he keeps getting in our face about the fact that he's not gay. Ummm...no one ever said you were gay. And if you are, we don't care. But we are getting a little curious at this point. Just from the sheer number of times you bring it up--unsolicited.

Kind of makes me think of this scene from Lars & The Real Girl. (A highly recommended movie, by the way, about a guy who has girl issues. Very cute, clean and funny.) Do most middle aged single men feel this way? I am uncertain but would love your thoughts.

Your Dead Plants Are Just Charming, Lowes

So we did a little landscaping this weekend. Several stubborn bushes on the side of our house have been living and growing there for years, despite a disgusting black funk on their leaves. I'm sure they were just the wrong plants in the wrong place. Husband dug them out and we needed some replacements.

Now Lowes, don't get me wrong, I know the market for landscaping and home improvement isn't huge with the economy the way it is. But I was just a tad annoyed that most of your plants were non-natives, requiring huge amounts of water or fertilizer, and half of your plants were dead. The rose aisle was a trip. Most of the rose plants featured stems with no leaves and perhaps a stray browning flower. My personal favorite (which I sincerely regret not having a camera to document) was the sale rack, displaying plastic containers of 100% dead plants. The crunching sound I heard when I touched them may be the closest I get to experiencing the Fall here. But I didn't want to pay for the experience.

...And I'll add that when I picked up a pumpkin, the stem literally broke off in my hand. Rotten?

If you want to survive the slump, dear Lowes, please start stocking some living items and perhaps you could even consider a few Florida natives.

I'm the Queen of Red Lights

I feel in my deepest soul that no one on the face of the planet encounters more red lights than I do in my weekly travels. This includes my daily commute from Bradenton to Sarasota, to lunch dates during the work week, and anywhere when I am running a little late.

It’s true. The traffic engineers in Sarasota have plotted against me. If I hit one red light, I hit them all. And I always, always hit one red light, thus triggering a chain reaction of additional red lights that will add on 15 minutes (at least) to a trip that should take only 5 minutes. (Sarasota is notorious for producing traffic patterns that make short distances seem like out of town.)

I’m finding a way to trick the system though. When I leave for work each day, I’m armed with a to-do list, an editing job, or a couple of spare magazine articles I've been trying to read. When I come prepared, the little man up there in the traffic lights spares me the drama of red. You should try it.

But don’t forget to put down the reading materials when the light turns green. One Gropius reader may recall her game of roadside bumper boats caused by her attempt to complete a crossword puzzle while driving. Was it the seafoam green car or the pukey muave sedan that was wrecked? I can't recall, but it was tragic. Almost as tragic as the time her car caught on fire on the way back to college. As she called me from I-4 beside the burning wreckage, she said "This is the most beautiful fire I have ever seen."

In summary, bringing reading materials can trick the Sarasota Red Light Demons. Keeping things in perspective, a long light is always better than a burning car. And finally, friends who find their own car fires beautiful are priceless.

Three Ridiculous Things About Today

• I'll start out the list with the fact that today is Thursday, not Friday. It not only seems like today should be Friday, but I've earned it, man. Two 9 hour days, one 11 hour day, one 14 hour day, one parent teacher conference, one presentation, a drive to Tampa, a board meeting and a million meetings after Monday morning started, I'm ready for a break.


• I actually had to tell someone "no" about the same thing for the fifth time today. This person introduced himself in my office early in the week--while crossing the personal space boundary of kissing my hand without invitation and calling me "princess," I might add. After making an unreasonable request once over the phone, twice in person and once with a written note, I had to explain to him AGAIN that the answer to the same question is (and will always be) "NO." I would truly hate to be a woman on a date with this guy.
  
• There is no debate tonight. In a sick and twisted way, I've gotten quite addicted to watching two people twist words and history around (in various degrees, depending on the candidate) as they try to produce clever and "top that" oriented sound bites. For some reason, it produces a wild fighting urge in me. At once, it's maddening and exciting...and, er, a little depressing.

On the bright side, there is hope. Tomorrow is actually Friday, the probability of the no-man calling again has significantly diminished, and The Office is on tonight.

How has your week been?

I'm Getting a Little Creeped Out

If you know me, there's no doubt in your mind that I'm a big lover of reptiles (the real kind, not politicians). But when our news is filled with stories about escaped and thriving pythons, iguanas, tegus (look it up) and other scaled creatures from faraway lands...right here in Sarasota/ Bradenton...I get a little creeped out.

Of course the takeover first came to light for most of us when that debatable photo of an exploded python with alligator was released. We all learned that python pets-no-more are filling the glades, reproducing and taking names. It's pretty serious when you think about all of the native species that are being taken out. And personally, I really don't want to come across a python big enough to take a gator when I'm out trail blazing.

Now we know there are iguana invaders all over our islands and keys, gobbling up native birds, native herps and basically anything the right size. And they're really hard to catch (I mean the lizards).

According to this recent article in the Bradenton-Herald, a 10 foot python and tegu were recently captured (escaped pets) and provided to a local wildlife rescue organization for educational purposes. A quote from the article about the rescue org. representative: "Not only has he provided a home for both of them, but the snake now has a name too. We think Crosby the snake will be very happy in his new environment. "

Point #1: Yes, I'm happy Crosby is in a new environment too. Reptile owners, can you please be more responsible? With the number of iguanas running around on our islands and pythons taking over, there's a serious limit to orphanages for them, once captured--if captured.

Point #2: I'm intrigued by what this snake's name was before it was captured. I'm guessing it wasn't something like GW the snake, Fuzzy, or Henry. It must have been something really baaaad. Bradenton-Herald, please do a better job of answering the questions we want to know. Do I hear follow-up?

The Week in Review

I'm having a slight case of blogger's block but have missed out on the therapeutic benefits of near-daily interaction with the screen, getting things off my chest. Here are my observations from this week in review:

• Telling the truth is so much easier than not telling the truth. Except for a few tiny white lies that slip out every now and then to protect the innocent from unnecessary insult, I avoid lying at all costs. I can't say the same for some kids, who insist on thinking they won't get busted while looking you right in the face, popping out a ginormous bald-faced lie. The same is true of politicians. They stare right into the camera and puke out a big one. Both kids and politicians know they're going to get busted in the inevitable fact-checking stage, but somehow keep the up the game. It's a mystery. And it's a mystery that greatly complicates the world, quite unnecessarily.
  
• People who repeatedly leave voice mail messages about non-urgent matters, on work voice mail and on cell phone voice mail, over 4 times in the same day, do not increase chances of getting called back. In fact, they actually trigger the opposite response. If you're not getting a call back, it either means I am very, very busy or that you have called me 47 times already about the same thing and we're not getting anywhere.
  
• I'd rather be in Gainesville this weekend. Hearing about a friend's trip to G'ville for a wedding reminded me that it's been too long since I've seen Payne's Prairie, Devil's Millhopper, El Indio and the Florida Museum of Natural History. I'm ready for a road trip.