Mars Will Appear as Large as the Moon...and Pigs Will Fly

I'm always amazed at the wealth of BS that circulates across the channels of e-mails. Aside from desperate appeals from Nigeria, it's increasingly difficult to decipher what's real and what isn't. Too bad Dali isn't still around--he would love the digital age and would be a texting maniac.

We were talking today at a breakfast about the celestial gift of the month, that Mars will make a once-in-our-lifetime appearance close to earth.  I heard about this a few weeks ago and thought, man, that's so cool!  There was absolutely no reason not to believe it.

And then something triggered in my memory--didn't this already happen a few years ago?  I seem to remember hearing about this event of the century very recently.  Am I already 134 years old?

Then I started hearing variations of the story--that Mars would be so close it would actually look like we had two moons!  What? Absolutely amazing. [Were there two moons in Planet of the Apes?  I could be completely wrong about it, but sounds like it would be a good fit.]

Get ready with your fishin' pole, Hubbie! The tides will be high and the catchin' good.

I'm a big fan of Snopes.com. I love being able to shoot on over there and find out if something is a total crock of doodoo, a partial deception, or actually (and more rarely) true. Here's what Snopes.com has to say about this hoax:

"Some things never go out of style, and the 'Mars Spectacular' is one of them."  

To paraphrase the whole thing, Mars did come very close to Earth in 2003, but it happens every 15-17 years. And during that time, Mars did appear as large as the moon--if you were using a telescope with a 75 power magnification.   Nice one.

So when in doubt, check it out.  I always learn something interesting and then take a moment to peak at the top 25 urban legends to arm myself for the next forwarded e-mail.

P.S. In Planet of the Apes, there is no moon. I looked it up. But I didn't find that one on Snopes. Or on NASA's website. Man, they've got to get it togethaaa.

The Emergency

Life on this planet nearly came to a grinding halt this morning when the cable appeared to be down at 94-year-old-Grandfather's house in North Carolina. In mere seconds, the sinking feeling of an impending disaster was given life by the possibility of missed episodes of Jerry Springer, Maury Povich and Tyra Banks.

Moments after she dialed a panicked phone call to Parents in Florida, the caretaker realized that hitting the "input" button on the remote provided the anecdote.

The near-tragedy was as real and in-your-face as the shows themselves. But in seconds, like magic, that pit of terror was replaced with relief. Aaaah, there is goodness in this world.

The remote is the giver and taker of life...and the herald of all emergencies and emergency operators.

H's are so overrated

...And the letter "r" is one hot momma. How did I manage to commit not one but two spelling atrocities in a simple sign commemorating husband's 36th trip around the sun?

"Happy Birtday Larrry!" Love, your idiot wife.

And...We're Off!

That's right folks, the wife beater tank top festival has officially begun at the Gropius household. Every year, husband hosts a 6 hour July 4 "event." Neighbors and others basically move in to our front yard, bearing food, a tent to protect the food from summer insects, plastic chairs, and things that shall remained unnamed...not because they're illegal, but because I try not to notice too much.

The night ends with a truly dramatic display of fireworks that husband has amassed throughout the year and carefully assembled for professional execution. We just pray that fingers and eyes remain intact...and that the neighbors who do not care for the noise, smoke and screaming can restrain themselves from calling the police.

Please. Don't feel bad if you didn't get an invite. I try to hide this from all of my friends, as the entire thing is a little "not my taste," shall we say. If I could stop being such a snob for a minute, I would say that some of the nicest people around are here. And the fireworks are awesome.

In closing, my "no wife beater tank top" proclamation is a no go once again this year. And a co-worker is coming, so I will be outed about this for sure. Be sure to tune in tomorrow for a pictorial story of the damage. And have a happy & safe July 4!

Dear Rays, You Rock.

Never in my 33 years have I been excited enough about men in uniforms playing a game to talk about it...(just between you and me, or to even really enjoy watching it).

Here are the sports stars I know: Michael Jordon, ... Yeah. Michael Jordon is one.

But all that has changed. It began last year with my first trip to see the Rays. It's such a young, likable team. At the end of the regular season, I surprised everyone by staying up later than even husband on the playoff nights to see them win. My Rays interest was even strong enough to bridge into another season, and yesterday we had a great time at Tropicana Field with PLRH and her family watching them take down The Twins. I can say, with pride, that I can actually correctly recite the names of most players with accuracy. Another Gropius first.

I must admit that one of the only drawbacks to being there live (and up on the 3rd deck) was that the distance did not allow us to watch pitcher Balfour talking to himself. Major upset.

We wanted to share a bit of our baseball experience with you, like some interesting Longoria poses for all you ladies out there.

And how about answering a few questions if you know the answers. What's the deal with people still wearing the stickers on their new hats? I thought that died. I am incredibly curious about the butt slapping. It's a long lived tradition, but what--or who--started that? BJ Upton carries out the task with more excitement than running the bases.

My favorite player? Of course it's Pena. Adorable, charitable and always kind enough to sign an autograph.

War of the Oral Egos

For Pete's sake, can you just get the GD tooth out?

After he was put under the knife twice yesterday, neither my husband nor I was in the mood for excuses, blame or ginormous egos. But hey, an unexpected $550 covers the cost of a good show involving a head the size of Montana.

After the promise of a simple triple wisdom tooth extraction at the dentist, fully paid for by insurance, Larry was supposed to be on his merry way home. But a little complication occurred. After yanking on that third sucker and breaking it all off but the stubborn roots, the dentist informed us that a little excursion to the oral surgeon was in order. "A 2 pm appointment is available, and everything should be covered," they told us.

Ha! After a few hours of lounging around the waiting room listening to enough Kenny G to kill you (0.5 seconds actually accomplishes that goal), we were escorted into the room to meet a gum smacking hot shot with gold bracelets and a smart ass demeanor. After the oral surgeon berated the lowly dentist for being half the man he was, we got to the business of the $550 payment. The details are too boring and painful to share.

Oh wait! I forgot to tell you, Doc Hot Shot spend a good 10 minutes of our dwindling afternoon reporting how he valiently saved the life of an elderly woman whose heart stopped beating in the chair. When the paramedics finally arrived, they were in utter amazement at his skill and heroism. My God. I can't believe he didn't remove the tooth with his mind.

I will share the best part. Coming back in the room with Larry after he slowly came out of his drug induced coma, I enjoyed the tail end of his conversation with the nurse. He had invited her to dinner and was asking for some moisture to be added to his lips. From a sheer moral perspective, I couldn't possibly report some additional conversation that transpired during his half conscious return to the world...

Of one thing I am sure, dentists and oral surgeons are not in danger of going down in this economy.

"They made me feel like myself again."

I was very moved by Circus Sarasota's Laughter Unlimited luncheon today. If you aren't familiar with the program, here's the scoop: they provide professional clowns, circus entertainers and trained volunteers to visit nursing homes, assisted living facilities, day care centers, hospitals and other institutions bringing joy and laughter to those who could reaaally use it.

I know what you're thinking...you're a little "iffy" on the whole clown thing, right? I understand. And that's how John Overton, CEO of the Pines of Sarasota and today's speaker, began his talk about the Circus Sarasota/ Pines partnership. What started as a childhood fear of clowns (I guess it's a LOT more common than I thought) has developed into great love for them. He has seen how laughter penetrates the hearts of people who are sick, near death and without family, or otherwise unreachable.

Some of the anecdotes he shared of residents talking for the first time in ages, squeezing clowns' hands with joy, and getting in one final laugh before departing from this life were incredibly touching. One resident said, "They made me feel like myself again." Need I say more?

I've been thinking more than usual about the moment we leave this earth. We don't ever know when that might be. Many of us are lucky enough to reach ripe old ages. Some of us have family with us. Others may feel utterly alone, hopeless and closer to Jupiter than a laugh. Look at what these folks do! The people they provide relief and laughter for people who are our mothers, fathers, grandmothers, brothers.... Feel like helping them continue with this work? Good karma will come back. Here's where you can learn more & give: http://www.circussarasota.org/. Do it.

Figure Skating & The Big Mistake

Husband would tell me the only mistake about figure skating is having it on the tube in the first place, but hey, I like it. Here's the only thing: it makes me nervous as hell.

Yesterday I discovered the national figure skating championships on the idiot box and seized the remote while husband was getting his kayak ready for "the big trip."

I felt very proud and alert watching these ladies take the ice, after years of committed practicing and with the knowledge that their entire futures hinged on five minutes of intense pressure.

When one of the skaters prepares for a big jump, I literally feel myself hunkering down. "Will she make it?" I think. And sure as the planet is blue and green, the second I conjure this thought in my mind, there's a splat on the ice. I couldn't feel worse if I did it myself...granted, I would splat even attempting to stand in a pair of skates.

The spectacle reminds me of my football fan mocking--those nut cases who insist that the kind of sub they're eating, the jersey they're wearing, or whether or not they watch the play can affect the outcome of the game. See husband, we're not so different after all. At least when your peeps fall during the Superbowl next week, they won't be so...on the spot. They'll soon be covered up by seven or eight 300 pounders who are piling on top of each other.

The Big Spill

I'll say it loud and proud. I am the biggest klutz in the Universe. And last night while attempting to walk with the dog in the dark, I took a nice, big spill.

It was the kind of event that groups of loitering kids dream of in terms of comedy. If anyone had been around to see it, I'm sure the fall would have garnered some quiet laughter from those who wondered if I was still capable of moving and some wild and roaring laughter from those who didn't care.

Resting on my left leg is a bruise the size of Alaska starting to peek through and a large cherry shaped and bloody scrape that my knee hasn't seen since the days of learning to ride a bike. I find it pretty ironic indeed that this was one of many evening walks and the first time I heeded family warnings and took a flashlight with me. (Admittedly, it wasn't on.)

But I'm sticking with the facts. Take a flashlight: fall down in a violent twist of uncoordination. Don't bring a flashlight: you make the trek with no problemos. I wouldn't dare blame this on the fact that I am incapable of walking even one step on a balance beam.

Celebrating the Writing Goddess

It looked like something was on fire as the sun was trying to get up this morning. Clouds were racing across the sky, wind blowing all around, signaling a change coming. Child pulled me out the door to have a look at a fleeting double rainbow making a brief appearance in the light orange north. There must be something special about this day.

I know! It's December 11, the day the Sarasota Writing Goddess was born. This local writer's byline can be seen in Style each month. She can make anyone come alive in print, touching on the most subtle and deeply interesting parts of their being in a way that makes you want to read and read and read. You'll always enjoy a thoughtful perspective, meshed with unexpected metaphors and clever comparisons, when you barge in her office for a chat. And she's a great friend. Happy Birthday, Ruth Lando.

Dear Sales Associate:

I am so sorry for the load of merchandise I left in a random location of Kohl's after catching a glimpse of the 60+ person line.

For some reason, I dedicated the greater part of today--the day after Thanksgiving--to shopping. Yes, I chose to join hoards of crazy people raping the racks of moderately discounted stuff for the bargains of the century.

There's a fine balance between finding something your loved ones REALLY want and just buying because they would probably like it and it's on sale. I clearly don't have enough patience for this. That's why I'm doing a little more peaceful, well considered shopping online and sparing myself the insane traffic and war-zone parking lots. ...But that's after the fact.

I also chose to finally treat my Honda to its long-awaited oil change today, which took only slightly over an hour (a vast improvement from previous two hour visits--that's with an appointment). We spent this time doing grammar lessons in the waiting room while annoyed grown-ups sighed and cast nasty glances conveying the obvious message: "I hate grammar! Shut uuuup! Spare the child!"

We're back at home, and a pizza is sounding really good right now. By the way, Alternative Gifts International is an awesome place to shop. (I know, I just mentioned it in yesterday's post, but really, you should visit it.) How did you spend your day?

I Had to Do It

I've debated and debated about this. But despite my best efforts to keep Gropius politics-neutral, this is after all my blog and I am afforded the opportunity to say what I want. (Just as you readers are afforded the opportunity to comment...)

So hear it is: I can't remember a time when I felt as hopeful, inspired, excited and frankly down right proud of my country as I was last night.

When I heard Barak Obama, our new leader speaking for the first time as president-elect, I could not keep a spot on my cheeks dry. The words, though reflective and carefully chosen, were secondary to the meaning behind our country's choice. And for once, I felt that the man was secondary to the message. It's the first time I can recall feeling the authenticity of a leader who is more about the voice of the people than himself.

In the eyes of the young voters, the old voters, the black voters and the white voters that the camera spanned, there wasn't a single cocky look of conquest. Instead there was a look of sincere gratitude, hope, eagerness and willingness to continue in being part of the change that needs to happen. You see, that is who Barak is for me. Not someone who will be that change, but who will help all of us be the change. From a campaign that thrived on small donations from many and from being the voice of people who have had enough of not being heard, real action rose out of what had become apathy. And it's just the beginning.

I will add that John McCain's concession speech was remarkably eloquent and beautiful. He and Obama complimented each other in presenting the need for unity bridging our differences, whether they are differences of party, color or religious beliefs.


There's hope if you're a McCain-lover...My Gropius message for you is three-fold:

1. Echoing Obama, who said in his acceptance speech that he will be your President too, I'm still your blogging friend. I hope you will still be mine.
2. A blogosphere is a terrible thing to waste: start your own and share.
3. You're always welcome to comment here.

And finally, if you're a fellow Obama fan, please be liberal in sharing your post-election thoughts on Gropius!

Local Campaign Humor

I've seen enough throw-away flyers, intersection lobbyists and yard signs to last me 10 centuries. When this flow of serious, hard core campaigning finally ends on Tuesday, it will not be too soon for me. But as with all important matters, if humor and jest don't fit in somewhere, no one is being serviced.

I'll be able to laugh at will when the Presidential candidate of my choice clearly wins on the 4th, but until then, enjoy this photo from a local contractor who kindly thinks of Gropius readers while cruising between site visits.

According to a small plot of land near the Waffle House on US 41 in Sarasota, the butler from the 80's sitcom Benson is running for a seat on the Florida House. Great stuff.

The other fave that I've come across is two warring households a couple of blocks away. One home has at least 10 McCain/Palin signs and the home beside it has just as many Obama/Biden signs. The most entertaining part is this: several signs were erected by both families directly against the property line, so that the McCain and Obama endorsements are facing each other, not the street. I'm hoping to get up enough nerve to knock on their doors and ask, "Hey, are you and your neighbor on speaking terms?"

Whatever your views, my friends, don't forget to vote.

Local Comedy 101

Today in Gropius, we're going to be covering Local Comedy 101.


It's called getting your hands on a copy of Longboat Key News and checking out the "On Patrol" section, where stories filed by Longboat Key police officers are reprinted in their own words.

In the sleepy, affluent and extremely anal retentive community of Longboat Key, where merely looking at someone in an "offensive" manner could get the cops called on you, I am alarmed at the proliferation of disturbing crimes being investigated by the police force. Take this one, for instance, an excerpt from the September 5 edition of the Longboat Key News:

Aug. 27
Stolen money, purse
10:28 a.m. - I spoke with the complaintant in reference to a larceny from his motor vehicle...There was a $100 bill located in the middle of the purse and six individual $100 bills located in a side pocket of the purse. The complaintant said that the vehicle was unlocked due to a malfunctioning keyless entry remote....A white plastic filter, belonging in a pop-up sprinkler head, was found in the back floorboard of the vehicle where the purse was located. Complaintant stated that the plastic filter did not belong to him or his wife."

There are sooo many comments I could make about this one. How about this?

Aug. 26
Mysterious noises

11:07 p.m.- I responded to Dream Island Road regarding noises coming from the outside of the residence....The residence was open and there was an inground pool that was also open to the rest of the residence. The residence is a safety issue due to it and the pool being unsecured. It also could be used as a hang out. I will forward a copy to code enforcement.

And then there's this one:

Aug. 31
Object in road

We received a report of a motorist who told police he had struck something in the road. The object turned out to be a rock, approximately 12 inches by 12 inches. Unevenly shaped piece of "rip rap."

Other newsworthy reports include that of an unleashed dog with his owner on the beach, a boat without a lock that was discovered and a 911 hang up. What is this world coming to? The crime on Longboat Key!

I swear I'm not making this up. Check it out yourself here.

I was fascinated to see that the newspaper staff altered the police reports "for privacy and grammar." Why hinder the comedy?