Saturday, November 27, 2010

Tofurkey, Sweet Lolita and Pumpkin Pie


Aahhh, the holidays.  Taking time from our hectic schedules to come together for the autumnal feast.  Loved ones from near and far hearken the call to gather and rekindle the familial flame.  It is truly a time of warm feelings and fond memories.  Course, it’s also a time to sit back and watch Aunt Cora take her teeth out at the dinner table after 5 or 6 Brandy Alexanders.  Yes, this is the stuff holiday memories are made of.  Take, for instance, your Grandmother’s prized pumpkin pie recipe that was shared only with her favorite sister-in-law .  Try as you might, this pie never turns out quite right when you make it, due solely to the fact that the miserable  wretch purposely left out one or two of the key ingredients when she passed the recipe down to you.  No matter.  There are still so many things to be thankful for and so many wonderful relatives to share this special day with.  Take, for instance, your older sister.  O.K., it’s true that at every family get-together she takes the opportunity to explain to everyone, individually and in great detail, how they will be spiritually uplifted by following the holy word of our Savior.  And, every year you pray for the love of sweet Jesus or for any other Savior to bolt down from the heavens and rescue you from the hell of this proselytism.  But, she’s a great gal and it wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without her…right?  Besides, we all have our little quirks and being together as a family is what it’s all about.  What better time to catch-up with those we so seldom see in our hectic lives and laze in the re-telling of fun-filled days gone by.  Admittedly, some memories are better than others and I think we could all agree that recalling the time Aunt DeeDee had to pick up Uncle Wes in Mexico at a place called Sweet Lolita’s Pleasure Place, is probably a bad idea.  Oh, but who hasn’t had a little misstep here and there?  Nothing so trivial will dim the warm and comforting glow of this lovely Thanksgiving day.  The house is filled with the intoxicating aroma of all imaginable comfort foods, the table is set with all the glitter and glam befitting this special occasion.  The seating assignments are marked and everyone anxiously awaits the call to indulge.  And, whoever drew the shortest straw last year anxiously awaits the shock and awe experience of sitting next to one of the…gulp… teenagers.  O.K., holiday or not, I’m just gonna go ahead and say what everyone is thinking…at least one of the teenagers in this group is guaranteed 100%  to be a full-fledged wing-nut!  A behavior modification experiment gone horribly wrong! A spawn so evil that it sends the hackles up on the old family dog!  And you can set your watch to the inevitable moment during dinner when this little messenger of Satan will announce their hatred for their parents then french-kiss (yes, at the table) the equally disturbing dinner guest they brought along and then punctuate the moment with a “What the hell is your problem?!?  Pass the freaking potatoes!!”   Ahhh, family.  Nothing quite like it.  All together for the holiday.  Sharing the love.  If you venture out to the back porch you can also share in some of Uncle Zen and Aunt Moon’s Tofurkey.  Yep, vegetarians.  Don’t laugh.  If you live long enough, it’s bound to happen at your family celebrations, too.  The weird couple who refuses to enter the house during the flesh eating portion of the evening, sits out on the back porch in their ill-fitting clothes, plates on laps, pretending to enjoy the vegan casserole they brought as a contribution.  Did I mention that the vegetarians are also smokers?  That’s right.  Turfurkey and Marlboros on the back porch.  Beautiful.  But, they’re family and we love ‘em, right?  And, of course the holidays just wouldn’t be the same without the ever popular political debate.  This is always a tough one for anyone with a brain because you know you should resist any temptation to participate.  But…aaarrgg..there it is!!  He actually said Sarah Palin is brilliant and now you have Uncle Kip in a headlock right there in the living room.  Good Lord.  Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.   

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Put Down The Knives...Step Away From The Corkscrew

E. Boyer

Things happen in small towns.  The community has a recognized need that’s appreciated by the residents as worthy, funds are raised and things happen.  Inspiring. Or, sometimes…not.  A handy example of the not-so-inspriing…the portables at Havens.  C’mon, don’t pretend like you’ve forgotten.  Good God in heaven. To hear the fan club of that bungle-fest tell it, if we didn’t act immediately, the children in attendance at the time of the imminent catastrophic earthquake would die a slow and painful death ‘neath the rubble of the collapsed one-story, wood framed building as it came down in apocalyptic fury!   Even though the fan group for this project was small, they were extremely vocal and the project was steamrollered into fruition.  I suppose this bullying tactic could be seen as effective.  Or, it could be seen as an obnoxiously pushy group behaving badly to promote their own agenda despite the fact that it cost a fortune and served only a small part of the community. But, it still happened, all the while having you believe that the reason it happened was because the community was behind it.  Right about now, many of you are thinking “Hey, wait a minute.  I wasn’t behind that.”  Exactly.  And neither were so many others.  But, here’s the thing…if you oppose projects or measures that these VGs (vocal groups) promote, you know, instinctively, that you’ll be tarred and feathered!  It isn’t your imagination.  You know first-hand or have at least heard the stories of those poor, unsuspecting souls who made the mistake of speaking out against their agenda.  That’s right..make that mistake and you are out! O.U.T! Persona non grata! Good bye, baby, that train left the station! Kiss all future invitations goodbye!   And, yes, that goes for your kids, too!  Holy Mother.  Scary, and more than a little intimidating.  Sadly, our little town suffers from what I call “Loud-Mouth at the Podium” syndrome.  This is where the big-shot du jour comes onto the scene and takes over, imposing his/her will upon anyone in shouting distance with a weaker constitution.  They impress their followers with quick witticisms, drop important names, throw fancy parties and make no mistake, they will slash your jugular vein with the nearest corkscrew if you go against their ideas!  Don’t let the pressed khakis and pinpoint oxford shirts fool you…this is a tough town! Thought you were entitled to independent thoughts?  Not if you hope to be included in the next block party.  Here’s the thing: I’m in favor of most projects in Piedmont...new schools, new fields, new pavement, new traffic signals, new turf, new giant vase, new pools, new retrofit at the schools, new undergrounding, blah, blah, blah.  I see it all as progress, for the most part and for the remaining “part,” if I’m not thrilled about it, I know I can express it with my vote.  When someone says “Hey, we need a new building for Havens so let’s hastily and without adequate evidence of necessity bring in a bunch of portables for a few years that will cost a bloody fortune and in the future be deemed a fiasco by the entire community” instead of going with my first instinct, which is to nail their tongue to their forehead so that they can never speak again, I take a deep breath, consider that they are entitled to their opinion and accept that there may be more to their idea than I am aware.  In other words, I’m polite.   But, be aware that not everyone is.  Why, is change in our community good when suggested by one VG, but disregarded when suggested by anyone outside that VG?  Why is it reasonable to ask for millions of dollars to build new facilities, but blasphemous to ask how our children may be better served in the classrooms?  Why is it expected that bond measures and tax increases be welcomed with open arms but, pausing to consider if this is the most intelligent and effective approach is met with fierce and brutal criticism?  No sir, don’t confuse me with the facts… let’s burn these bridges fast so there’s no going back!  In fact, the minute any concern is raised openly about our PUSD, the knives come out of the drawer!  The mere mention of a problem with our schools can get you blacklisted in this town…and that’s not polite, nor is it at all productive.  It’s disappointing to see adults in our community behave like spoiled children.  No one should feel frightened to express their support or objection to a project or an idea.  Good ideas don’t come exclusively from the loud-mouth at the podium.  Sometimes they come from less flashy folks who have thoughtfully, carefully and quietly done their research without the pomp of Piedmont’s legendary cocktail party fundraisers.  So, the next time someone offers an opinion that may be different from your own, put away the knives, put down the corkscrew and for Pete’s sake if you can’t keep quiet then at least try to be polite…pretty please??

Nude! Totally Nude!!

Just kidding...but they are uncensored.  Since The Post is a family newspaper and all, the editor doesn't always let me say exactly what I want.  So, wouldn't you know, the crazy youngsters in my life said "Hey, what about a blog?!"  So, here it is.  All the nonsense in one place.  Live and uncensored! Oh, c'mon...that's funny....              

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

A Less Aggressive

A Less Aggressive Blue
E. Boyer
Buy local.  Support your local farmers.  That’s the latest message.  It’s a good message and I’ve really been trying to follow this sound advice.  So, several months ago, I set out on my new crusade, bound and determined to support my local farmer and his/her brethren.  With a sense of pride and commitment, I marched to my local farmers market. Well, it wasn’t exactly marching, per se, it was more like driving but with purpose and very good intentions.  Upon finding the farmer’s market and more importantly, finding a parking spot, I was filled with enthusiasm and the sense that I was part of  something big…a movement…a cause.  I also felt a little worn-out after having walked the 13 blocks from my parking spot to the market!  Turns out these things bring in quite the crowd but don’t necessarily give much thought to parking situation.  No matter.  With list in hand, I began my pilgrimage to support my local farmers.  Spinach, red onion, bacon, eggs, blue cheese.  The anticipation of my evening meal was overwhelming.  First up… Spinach!  Organically grown and hand-picked in the Sacramento Valley!   Sacramento… is that local enough?  Geez, I dunno.  With just a titch of anxiety creeping in at the thought of not buying local enough, I throw caution to the wind and rationalize that it  wouldn’t be at my local farmer’s market if it wasn’t local enough.  Two big bunches of Sacramento Valley-organically grown-hand-picked spinach, please!  Done.  Next up, eggs!  Feeling triumphant with my spinach purchase I amble over to the dairy section, encouraged to find that our local Dairy farmers and Hen houses are represented and that cheese and eggs are also available here.  Only for a second do I pause to question if I’m mistaken or did I actually just spend $9 on two bunches of spinach.  Naw, must be a mistake.  Onward to the eggs!  Cage-free, vegetarian diet, OICA certified organic.  Choose from brown, fertile brown, or Omega 3-fatty acid enhanced eggs.  Good lord.  I had no idea.  Seein’ as how I clearly didn’t do enough research before my egg purchase, I decide it prudent to read a few of the pamphlets.  As it turns out, these hens have better living conditions than many inner-city families and it occurred to me that the Oakland or SF housing authorities could learn a thing or two…water, air and housing standards so that the hens can live happy, cage-free lives, free from stress and anxiety.  Impressive!  I decide on “Fertile Brown” and move on to cheese.  Cheese, glorious cheese!  For me, life without cheese would be barely worth living.  Oh sure, friends and family are nice, but...reeeeally tough to compare to cheese.  A spinach salad practically begs for a nice Blue and there before me, like a beacon of hope for all that is good tasty, stands a little booth filled to capacity with cheese of every variety.  So, after spending about 40 minutes learning all about the virtues of artisan cheesemaking from one who I can only assume is an…artisan cheesemaker, I decide on one described as “not as aggressive as other Blues.  Heaven forbid I go home with an aggressive Blue!  I leave the cheese booth feeling strong and confident with my 0.62 ounces of Organic Artisan Blue, knowing that it was made with care by worthy Artisan Cheesemakers in the rolling hills…somewhere near here.  I’ll admit to fighting back the teeny, tiniest little squeal when I heard “That’ll be $22.37, please.”  Hey, far be it from me to question the price of perfection…I had, in my hand, 0.62 ounces of non-aggressive, organic, artisan Blue and how can you really even put a price on that?  Looking over my list, I remembered that I had a red onion in the larder which brought to my final item…bacon.  Yes, apparently, if raised with love and kindness, thought and consideration and with plenty of space to roam and a vegetarian grain-based diet, it’s still considered politically correct or, at least o.k., to raise pigs so that one day they can be showcased in my spinach salad. Feeling a little overwhelmed with terms like CCOF, traceable & verified, sustainably ranched and so on, I gravitated toward something that at least sounded familiar…Hardwood Smoked Uncured and Organic…obviously.  One half pound, please!  After all, one can never have too much bacon in their spinach salad.  A seasoned Farmer’s Market shopper at this point, I brace myself for a grand bacon total of $80 and am pleasantly surprised that it only came to $12.38.  Where in the world the day went, I’ll never know but, I realized that my friends were due for dinner in about an hour so, I made the 20 mile trek back to my car (just kidding, but it really did feel like that!) and headed home with my cornucopia of  local Farmer’s Market treasures.  The spinach salad was declared a triumph and in truth…it really did taste better than those I’d made with inferior ingredients.  But, more importantly, it inspired a lively and meaningful conversation about the importance of supporting our local farmers.  So, give it a try, if you haven’t already…and it’s in the budget.  If quality is important to you, you’re only alternative is to dig up your yard, hire a handyman to build an elaborate system of raised planting beds which you’ll have to plant and tend year round.   You’ll also have to fence off a portion of your postage stamp-size yard for your hens and other livestock.  Yep…kind of a hassle.  And, besides…your neighbors are really gonna give you a hard time about the livestock.  Really.  They will.                                                     

Tarzan and O.J.

Tarzan and O.J.
E. Boyer
What is going on in Piedmont?!?  At this stage of my life there are few things that I can still enjoy with full gusto and local sports is one of them.  Imagine my dismay reading the last few issues of The Post and learning that some of our star athletes are leaving!! Say it aint so!  Do you have any idea the joy that springs to an old gals heart seeing all those exciting football shots in the Post of Piedmont’s Quarterback, taking her back to the days of Joe Nameth,  and the Runningback, taking her back to the days of O.J Simpson….aww, c’mom!  The glove didn’t fit!!  And then there are the kids we saw every week during water polo season in less than 3 inches of fabric making Tarzan look like second fiddle and making the sport look like the best thing in the world.  The two co-captains of that team are gone!  Gone!  Why?!?  To those of us who live vicariously through the glorious moves and glorious physiques of our local talent, the recent news of all these exceptional athletes going elsewhere is troubling.  Never mind my loss.  Why are they leaving and what does it mean for Piedmont?  In addition to what might be a really boring Sports Section in The Post, it might also mean that our district is coming up short.  Oh, sure.  Let me guess.  Boo, Grrr, Hiss.   But, before you jump on your pro-PUSD bandwagon, maybe you should ask yourselves if your naive and predictable support of the PUSD is really helping.  There is more to a good and competitive school district than the obnoxiously vocal fan club that insist it’s perfect.   If it’s perfect, students wouldn’t leave.  So, to those of you who cry “Traitor!” to anyone who challenges the status quo, how ‘bout if you surprise us for a change and take an objective look at why any student decides to leave and see if maybe there is something we could do to improve.  Tough love, cupcakes!  Piedmont is a great, little town.  But, what do we have if we don’t have our schools?  Oh sure, we have Mulberrys and we like Laura and the new gal in the Deli, and we have the new Havens and we like it’s fancy organic turf.  But, it’s not enough to make a town.  We need our schools and we need them to be great. If students are leaving, athletes or not, it means something isn’t quite right.  So, instead of just the same ‘ole boring lip service, why not try something a little more innovative..like acknowledging that the reason students are leaving is because there might be a problem and then setting out to fix it.  And yes, I know that there are tremendous athletes who still compete for Piedmont but that doesn’t make right the reasons that others are choosing to leave.  I don’t know about you but, I’m gonna miss seeing Jungle-Boy dominate the pool and god know what I’ll do if the football program goes away!                                                                       
                                              


Tomato Sandwiches

You Can Bring The Tomato Sandwiches on the Canoe

Whatever happened to the lazy days of summer that consisted so simply of canoe rides on the nearest lake, your best friend’s delightful disclosure of little secrets held onto since Fall and tomato sandwiches on the porch?  And what became of children spending the entire afternoon scouring neighborhood lawns in search of all manner of insect, mason jar with holes in the lid in tow?  Those days, it seems, have made way for a higher-brow sort of summer.  I hear all about the trips and experiences of a lifetime but being the sort who is captive to familiar things, I’m not one to give up on a good canoe ride…tried and true.  And so, with summer here it makes me wonder.  Must I really spend six weeks “summering” in the Hamptons or scaling the North Face to feel like I measure up on the Worthy Summer Scale?  Honestly, is it really necessary that I sit, interested for 5 minutes and then bored to the point of suicide for the next 90, hearing about my neighbors excursion to some remote Basque Country location to herd and shear sheep, spin the wool into yarn and then knit 4,000 sweaters for the needy children in nearby villages?   Real nice and all but it makes my tomato sandwich excursion come up a little short.  It doesn’t help matters that they’ll end the trip with a private audience with the Dalai Lama himself which, incidentally, earns your kid a semesters worth of college credit.  You can imagine that my  Jerry Garcia look-alike sighting in Golden Gate Park during a free concert just isn’t as impressive. What became of the hypnotic afternoons of well-worn quilts spread about the lawn and strewn with the latest trashy magazines and Tupperware containers filled with strawberries soaked in sugary syrup?  No more.  Now we’re compelled to head to exotic corners of the world for Tantric Yoga Inner Balancing Retreats.  Our heirloom quilts are trumped by 5,000 thread count organic Egyptian cotton spa sheets and our beloved strawberries, now thought too sugary, have been replaced with cucumber infused mineral water.  Ohh, sigh, lament, sigh, lament….Is the call of the Great Wall of China that much more commanding  than that of the latest from Dan Brown or J.K. Rowlings?  Must I endure 17 hours of germ infested strangers on a means of travel fraught with the potential for disaster?  The friendly skies seeming less and less friendly.  How about the pilgrimage to the hammock in my backyard which holds so little potential for a tragic demise?  I suppose with the current thinking my parents would have been considered irresponsible for allowing us to ride our bikes downhill, onto the dock and straight into the lake…no helmets, no life jackets.  Our shoes came off the last day of school and didn’t go back on until it resumed in the Fall.  Pure, unadulterated reckless abandon.  The elixir of life…ours to savor every long and lazy day of summer.  Now, not so much.  I think the latest hysteria is that you’ll get a terrible, life threatening disease from running around barefoot and if word got out now-a-days that kids are having too much fun some nibby-nosed parent would have it shut down in a matter of minutes.  Far better the precious free time of our over-booked youth be packed to capacity with exorbitantly priced camps whose mission to profoundly and permanently enhance the quality of the campers life is proclaimed throughout the land, or at least Piedmont, by all the parents who have deposited their little lovelies there for the last several years.  Sigh, lament, sigh, lament again…I suppose old quilts and trashy magazines could lead to lounging, lounging could lead to day-dreaming, daydreaming could lead to creative thought and geez, who knows what the heck that could lead to. So, fare thee well you Piedmont summer folk!  Off you go!  Adults, to a
Sustainable Organic Farming Camp with a Corporate Teambuilding Component and kids….take your pick!   Future Quantum Physicists of America Camp, Andre Agassi Tennis Camp, David Beckham Soccer Camp, Trek the Himalayas Camp, African Safari Camp (Yes, in Africa, duh..), Civil War Re-enactment Camp (Yes, you’ll actually shoot people and contract syphilis…c’mon, it’s all part of the experience!), George Lucas Film Production Camp, Stalk and Kill Your Own Bear Camp (the insurance on this one can be a little pricey), Sociological Exploration Camp, Extreme Jet Powered Kite Surfing Camp, Climb Mt. Kilimanjaro Camp (Yes, you actually climb it). Go on! Live the life!  Dream the dream! Upon your return I’ll flag down the ice cream truck.  I think the prices have gone up but for about $2 we can get a handful of Otter-Pops.  We’ll enjoy them in sun…on my blanket.  It’ll be fun.  Seriously.      
                                                                                                                             

College Bound

College Bound
E. Boyer
 I’ve been thinking about the pressure our kids today have to endure due to the rumblings that say they’ll never get into college without a 56.8 GPA, a 4- year history of participation at the White House and are direct descendants of Albert Einstein.  I went to a presentation for an SAT prep course at the end of which, I felt like someone should lock me up for “cruelty to children” for even thinking about putting my child through this insanity.  They recommended that the kids study a book, which was the size of a Smart Car!  (Not kidding. I could barley lift it), study for 10 months prior, take AP classes, summer college classes, start putting together their resume, volunteer every week starting in 9th grade, be the president of something and of course, be an accomplished athlete.  Question. If they can do all that, couldn’t they just skip college all together and go straight to being Superheros?  My daughter thought that being a superhero sounded like a fun career path and called one of the UC’s and asked if they offered a Superhero program.  They said “no, but that if she actually was a superhero they would very seriously consider her for admission.”  Curses!  Now we’re back to square one with the prep course.  So what does this mean for our children?  Well, it means that they have a few choices.

 1) They can do as their parents suggest and meet with a college counselor twice a week…every week beginning in 9th grade, meet with all 8 of their tutors at least once per week…every week beginning in 9th  and continuing through to 12th, take AP Spanish during the summer of their freshman year, AP Algebra the summer of their sophomore year,  AP honors Chem and AP honors physics  the summer of their junior year (all at Cal…duh!?), complete the 12 week SAT prep courses with Ivy West, Kaplan, Study Smarter and a private coach (Yale grad…double duh!?) for a total of 48 weeks of prep, and of course go to Mexico for a week to build houses with their bare hands for poor people once a year…every year…9th through 12th.   Of course, they played varsity sports all 4 years.  So, that’s their first choice and, believe it or not, a very popular choice!

2) They could have their parents committed to an insane asylum for which they would easily meet the requirements, tell the school district that their parents are “unavailable” whenever they try to reach them, raise themselves with the cash they’re able to withdraw from their parents Schwab account because they’re brilliant and have known how to access all the accounts since they were twelve and didn’t simply because all of their needs were being met.

3) They could fall into a deep, dark depression because there is no way in hell any one but the Spawn of Chucky would inflict such grotesque horror on a child and they would buckle under the realization that this is actually their reality.  After their melt-down they would be carted off to a soft and fluffy place where they would one day, with prayer and medication, regain their strength and courage (but never their original luster), notify the “evil spawn parentals” that they will never again be subjected to such atrocities and raise goats on the parcel in the Tibetan countryside that they bought with the royalties from the book they wrote about their experience.

4)They could have a chat with their parents(preferable in a public place) about the ridiculousness of their anxiety and assure them that they will go to and graduate from college, get a job, make mistakes, enjoy success, endure failure, fall in love, suffer rejection, bounce back and basically have a totally awesome time on the planet because that’s sort of the natural course of things.  They could explain to them that even without all of their obsession regarding their academics, deep down all kids want to succeed in high school, college and later in life and while they appreciate the concern, what they really want is just a helping hand along the way instead of an International Harvester plowing them through the process.  They could tell them that even though Mom and Grandpa went to Stanford and both became giants in the world of finance, what they really enjoy is reading the classics and were thinking about a cozy spot at Whittier and a future in literature and education and p.s. their younger sibling is a talented musician and majoring in music is not the same as majoring in monkey business!  For the love of God, do Leonard Bernstein and Myles Davis mean nothing to you!?  Is Julliard merely a vocational school?!

 I think I saw a parent hyperventilating in front of the post office.  She was concerned that her daughter’s 16th application was not getting in on time for “early decision.” That’s right.  16 applications.  Is this not starting to seem a little strange to anyone but me??  Just the same, you may want to review  #2 …this may be a good time to switch banks. 

Thursday, November 4, 2010

Put Down the Knives...Step Away From The Corkscrew



Put Down the Knife, Step Away From the Corkscrew
E. Boyer
Things happen in small towns.  The community has a recognized need that’s appreciated by the residents as worthy, funds are raised and things happen.  Inspiring. Or, sometimes…not.  A handy example of the not-so-inspriing…the portables at Havens.  C’mon, don’t pretend like you’ve forgotten.  Good God in heaven. To hear the fan club of that bungle-fest tell it, if we didn’t act immediately, the children in attendance at the time of the imminent catastrophic earthquake would die a slow and painful death ‘neath the rubble of the collapsed one-story, wood framed building as it came down in apocalyptic fury!   Even though the fan group for this project was small, they were extremely vocal and the project was steamrollered into fruition.  I suppose this bullying tactic could be seen as effective.  Or, it could be seen as an obnoxiously pushy group behaving badly to promote their own agenda despite the fact that it cost a fortune and served only a small part of the community. But, it still happened, all the while having you believe that the reason it happened was because the community was behind it.  Right about now, many of you are thinking “Hey, wait a minute.  I wasn’t behind that.”  Exactly.  And neither were so many others.  But, here’s the thing…if you oppose projects or measures that these VGs (vocal groups) promote, you know, instinctively, that you’ll be tarred and feathered!  It isn’t your imagination.  You know first-hand or have at least heard the stories of those poor, unsuspecting souls who made the mistake of speaking out against their agenda.  That’s right..make that mistake and you are out! O.U.T! Persona non grata! Good bye, baby, that train left the station! Kiss all future invitations goodbye!   And, yes, that goes for your kids, too!  Holy Mother.  Scary, and more than a little intimidating.  Sadly, our little town suffers from what I call “Loud-Mouth at the Podium” syndrome.  This is where the big-shot du jour comes onto the scene and takes over, imposing his/her will upon anyone in shouting distance with a weaker constitution.  They impress their followers with quick witticisms, drop important names, throw fancy parties and make no mistake, they will slash your jugular vein with the nearest corkscrew if you go against their ideas!  Don’t let the pressed khakis and pinpoint oxford shirts fool you…this is a tough town! Thought you were entitled to independent thoughts?  Not if you hope to be included in the next block party.  Here’s the thing: I’m in favor of most projects in Piedmont...new schools, new fields, new pavement, new traffic signals, new turf, new giant vase, new pools, new retrofit at the schools, new undergrounding, blah, blah, blah.  I see it all as progress, for the most part and for the remaining “part,” if I’m not thrilled about it, I know I can express it with my vote.  When someone says “Hey, we need a new building for Havens so let’s hastily and without adequate evidence of necessity bring in a bunch of portables for a few years that will cost a bloody fortune and in the future be deemed a fiasco by the entire community” instead of going with my first instinct, which is to nail their tongue to their forehead so that they can never speak again, I take a deep breath, consider that they are entitled to their opinion and accept that there may be more to their idea than I am aware.  In other words, I’m polite.   But, be aware that not everyone is.  Why, is change in our community good when suggested by one VG, but disregarded when suggested by anyone outside that VG?  Why is it reasonable to ask for millions of dollars to build new facilities, but blasphemous to ask how our children may be better served in the classrooms?  Why is it expected that bond measures and tax increases be welcomed with open arms but, pausing to consider if this is the most intelligent and effective approach is met with fierce and brutal criticism?  No sir, don’t confuse me with the facts… let’s burn these bridges fast so there’s no going back!  In fact, the minute any concern is raised openly about our PUSD, the knives come out of the drawer!  The mere mention of a problem with our schools can get you blacklisted in this town…and that’s not polite, nor is it at all productive.  It’s disappointing to see adults in our community behave like spoiled children.  No one should feel frightened to express their support or objection to a project or an idea.  Good ideas don’t come exclusively from the loud-mouth at the podium.  Sometimes they come from less flashy folks who have thoughtfully, carefully and quietly done their research without the pomp of Piedmont’s legendary cocktail party fundraisers.  So, the next time someone offers an opinion that may be different from your own, put away the knives, put down the corkscrew and for Pete’s sake if you can’t keep quiet then at least try to be polite…pretty please??



Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Yes, You Did

Yes, You Did
E. Boyer

I read somewhere that today’s teenagers are making better decisions.  I’m not sure what that means but if it’s true why do we constantly hover over them?  It seems like parents today are infinitely more involved than parents of my generation were.  But, if kids are making better decisions why are we hovering?  After all, they’re doing a lot less dangerous stuff than we did.  Admit it, you rarely wore a seatbelt or helmet, you had unprotected sex and you partied like a Viking.  You drove a vehicle at least once while intoxicated and you knew parents who actually hosted the keg party for your 10th grade class.  It’s true that we didn’t have the dark and scary social network sites or even computers and HIV wasn’t a concern back then.  But, why weren’t our parents hovering?  Face it, we all knew someone who was dating their history teacher or sleeping with somebody’s mom.  “My word!” you say.  “This is absurd!!”  Please, spare me the time consuming task of digging out all those old photos, which undoubtedly have you, Mr. & Mrs. Not-Me, back in the day at one of the Kimmers parties demonstrating your genuine talent and affection for beer-bong hits.  There were a good many other talents you demonstrated which the editor of the paper felt weren’t appropriate for print.  Let’s just say you had more than one tender moment in the back seat of the station wagon.  The point is, we did that stuff.  No matter how removed we may feel while cloaked in the safety of our conservative Banana Republic chinos, tastefully decorated homes and environmentally hip vehicles. We did it.  So, why do we bring in the team of professionals when our children display the same curiosity? I sometimes feel like we’ve lost our perspective.  Do I want my child to wear a dark hooded cape, sit in the corner and smoke pot?  No.  Do I want them to have un-protected sex or date someone named Johnny Death?  No. Do I think that at some point they may experiment? Yes.  And it scares me.  But, why do we so seldom hear any of the good stuff about today’s teens?  Is it just the plague of parents that we get so caught up in trying to control everything and worrying about the latest horrifying statistic?  Is it the local plaid-skirt gossip about our teens that hurls us into a tail-spin of horror? Isn’t an unusually long time in the bathroom for a teenage boy more likely to mean he’s popping zits or masturbating rather than smoking crack or cleaning his semi-automatic weapon…isn’t it?  I hope so.  And isn’t a girl locked in her bedroom for six hours more likely trying on her new push-up bra and figuring out what to wear to this weekend’s party rather than instant messaging with a middle-aged creepy guy from Vegas?  I hope so.   Still, the thought comes to mind…and that leads to hovering. But, along with all their trials and tribulations, today’s kids seem bright, funny, talented, hard-working, graduating from college and making lots of un-noticed good decisions.    And…they seem better behaved than we ever were.  No?  Well, I guess I’ll have to drag out those old photos.   


Bring in The Debs!

Fiddle-dee-dee
Bring In The Debs!
E. Boyer

They arrived.  In the mailboxes of young women around the East Bay, the Hill Branch invitations to the Debutante (a.k.a. Winter) Ball arrived.  For some, an invitation was expected.  Their sisters, mothers and possibly Grandmothers were invited and not receiving an invitation would be horrifically devastating to the entire family lineage, forever altering it’s place in the annals of history.  The Debutante Ball is a charitable event.  It benefits children’s Hospital and has raised over 4 million dollars over the years.  What began as the presenting of a family’s marriage-ready daughters, has become a valuable means of drawing attention to a very worthy cause.  My hat is off and I’m humbled by the effort and dedication put forth by those who carry on the tradition.  Having said that, I must also say that, it all seems…well…ridiculous.  When I hear the words “Debutante Ball” what comes to mind is Scarlet O’Hara having her corset tightened to the point of asphyxiation, wondering what the fiddle-de-de all the fuss is about.  I understand the significance of tradition but, couldn’t we update this event…just a little?  Let’s start with the men’s attire.  Is it me, or is there something silly and just a titch sad about seeing a grown man in white gloves and tails?  It has a way of ripping the testosterone right off of a guy.  Let’s face it, unless you’re James Bond, it’s impossible to pull-off this look.  In fact, James Bond knew better than anyone the value of the classic black tux…sometimes, less really is more.  And then there are the evening gowns.  I feel silly just saying “evening gown.” But, this phrase at least takes us off the plantation at Tara and in to the lobby of the Bolshoi Ballet.  Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire also come to mind. Only, the guidelines state “no strapless and no sparkles.”  No sparkles?!?  I have to believe that even the stuffiest of ballet goers would appreciate the value of properly placed “sparkle” on an evening gown.  Ginger would undoubtedly find this guideline unacceptable.  For heaven’s sake, after forking over $4,000 for the privilege of attending, you’d think a girl would be allowed a little sparkle!  Naturally, we couldn’t come this far without mentioning the curtsey.  It’s not just any ‘ole curtsey.  In my house we’ve given this curtsey the name “Double Supported Wedding Cake Ornament Curtsey.”  Seriously, look at the photos and it’ll all make sense to you.  But, the most puzzling part of it all is the parading around of our nubile, young daughters in what I call the “Circle of Virgins.”  (Again, please refer to photos.) This is the part of the evening where all the Debs stand in an outward-facing circle for all to admire.  Good Lord.  Why not just hang a sign around their lovely, little necks that says “Peak of Fertility.  All Wealthy, Male Land Owners Please Apply.” Bring in the auctioneer and let the bidding begin!  Have we no shame?  We’ve spent the last 18 years preaching independence and self-sufficiency, blah, blah, blah, and now we throw them into a “Who’s the Fairest Of Them All” spectacle.  Is this really necessary?  Why has this event not been updated?  Fiddle-dee-dee, where is Gloria Steinhem when we need her?        

A Brave New Group

A Brave New Group
E. Boyer
There it is.  In last week’s Post.  A tiny, little blurb that should give us the clue to brace ourselves.  It said “We have a gap of $1.2 million.  I think we can close the gap.”  That’s Piedmont School  District speak for  “get ready to take it in the rear-end because we’re preparing  to  cry poverty and will expect all the devoted citizens of Piedmont to pony-up.”   Grrr, Booo, Hiss…that’s the sound of all the unconditional PUSD supporters knashing their  teeth and bearing their claws.  Lighten-up kids…you aren’t really supposed to take me seriously, it says so at the end of every column!  But, seriously, sometimes I think of the PUSD as a spoiled child.  It demands funds and then sits back and waits for it’s ever hopeful parents to meet the demand.   No questions.  No expectations for improvement.  Just hand over the cash and no one gets hurt.  I think we all know how things turn out with the spoiled child…they grow up and blow their trust fund on a motorcycle gang member and then move back home at age 31 with no job, no prospects and in their Zen lifestyle “phase.”   Beautiful.   I know it’s horrifically unpopular to question the stupendousness of the PUSD but does this blind faith really benefit the kids?  Does this unconditional praise of the system really put our children first? Or, could it be crippling our district?  Taking away their incentive to improve?  Has anyone besides me ever thought, “Hey, rather than hand over truck loads of cash without expectation of improvements that would benefit the students and improve the quality of their education , maybe we should take a closer look at whether or not the system is genuinely working for the students and if the teachers and administrators are really the best the industry has to offer.”  More Grrrs , Boos and Hissing.  We spend tons of time and money conducting Environmental Impact reports, feasibility studies, turf vs. grass studies_______________ why not really find out how are students are holding up?  Is the quality of their lives as good as it can be?  Are they happy?  Are they getting an education in the classroom or is most of that taking place at their kitchen tables at 2 a.m.?  We already know they test well…their parents have invested small fortunes to make sure of that.  But how are they really?  What is their quality of their education…in the classroom?  I know, it’s probably just me but I’d kinda like some real evidence that things are perfect rather than just a highly educated and intimidating group of PUSD cheerleaders insisting that it’s so.  I realize that cocktails and hob-nobbing at all the big fundraisers are way sexier than taking a close look at the inner workings of the PUSD.  It’s like a new kitchen vs. repairing the foundation.   Some things are just more appealing.  More fun.  Here’s the thing…articles like this are hugely unpopular in this town and it’s out of the question to submit them if you still have children in the school system.  Why?  Because everyone is afraid that they’ll be tarred and feathered…and they’re probably right!  That’s a shame.  It’s as though everyone is hiding behind the secret thought that maybe the education their child is getting here doesn’t quite measure up to the 3 million they paid for their house. Or, If their child doesn’t stay at the top of their class they won’t be Cal or Ivy bound and that would be embarrassing.  So, as parents who want only the best for our children, we forge ahead with tutors, ridiculous late night hours and far too much stress and anxiety, all the while wondering, secretly, privately…why isn’t my child getting what they need in the classroom?  If the system is so good, why is my child so miserable or exhausted?  I think a lot of parents have these thoughts.  But, they dare not speak them out loud because that would be unpopular.  So, with our children’s best interests in mind, when the next round of fundraising comes along, perhaps an extremely brave, conscientious and yes, unpopular group will form whose message will be “Yes, we’d like to support our schools and yes, we’ll write checks, but we’d first like to make the necessary adjustments in the system to ensure that our children’s educational needs are being met and preferably exceeded.”  After all, it is the education and well being of the children that’s important.  New facilities are certainly lovely but a genuine education and real learning can occur under the shade of a tree assuming competent instruction.  As much as I love the new Havens structure, and I do, I also think it would have been wonderful to see a few million go into programs that would enhance the actual education part of the educational system.  And in doing so, maybe lessen the need for students staying up until 2 a.m. ,anti-depressants, tutors, etc.  Hey, who knows, maybe they could even enjoy being kids for awhile.

Boots, Bikes and Stretchy Pants

Boots, Bikes and Stretchy Pants
E. Boyer
 What in the high heavens is with the outfit?  It seems like there is a special outfit for every activity.  We take an interest in something and immediately assume the identity.  Yesterday, we were just good ‘ole regular people.  Today, we’re hikers. It’s obvious we’re now professional hikers by the $3,000 we spent at REI on hiking boots, clip on water bottle, Gortex fanny pack, Camelback in case water bottle comes un-hooked, Swiss Army knife…Ultra model with ice pick, bear repellant, telescope, GPS and international cell phone.  Yes, indeedy, we’re all set to hike.  Of course, after about 45 minutes of a steady incline and a blister the size of a walnut from our new boots, we realize that never again in life will we do this satan-inspired activity and  we retire our gear to the garage.  Next up, Yoga!  Couple of things: 1) No matter how many classes you attend, you will NEVER be able to bend and twist like your 25 year old instructor.  Not gonna happen. 2) Men, do not think that just because you’ve mastered your downward dog that the 25 year old instructor will EVER date you or find you attractive.  She/he will not.  Still, we run out to LuLu Lemon and Sports Authority or log onto TitleNine.com and blow yet another small fortune on stretchy pants and tops, squishy mats and foam bricks only to discover that you can actually rip the hell out of your groin trying an advanced pose, resulting in an embarrassing moment on a stretcher.  Now, rather than using them for yoga ever again, your stretchy pants become your fat pants that you wear while watching "House" and eating pizza.  Namaste.  Fast forward 5 months, the groin muscles has healed and you’ve watched enough of the Tour de France on late night CNN coverage to motivate you to drag the old Schwinn out of storage.  Well, we all know where this is going because we’ve all done it.  That’s right….the Schwinn is determined to be a worthless pile of junk and there goes $2,800 on the Ultra-light Road Racer Supreme.  This new-found activity is probably the most identifiable.  Men with an extra 30 pounds, parade around in horrifically colored spandex at the local coffee shops with their little metal-soled biking shoes clicking on the sidewalk.  Guys, the clicking is annoying and the big, spandex covered belly has made more than one young woman run away in horror and nausea.  And, helloooo!  If you spent a little less time eating muffins and downing Peet’s coffee and a little more time actually riding the ULRRS, you might get that belly situation under control.  Who am I to judge?  I’m not judging at all!  Wouldn’t you agree that sometimes our little tendencies are peculiar and interesting, to say the least?  And, if we can’t laugh at ourselves…at whom can we laugh??  Judging?  Don’t be ridiculous….I’m writing this from the comfort of my retired yoga pants and using the little foam brick to elevate my laptop…Namaste! 

32 Sticks of Butter

32 Sticks of Butter
E. Boyer
Havens is nearly finished.  It looks like it’ll be ready for all the little tykes by the start of school in late August.  I think we can thank the 2006 Measure E and it’s  $56 million for this crowning jewel.  Measure E, by the way, was the largest bond measure in Piedmont’s history.  In 1991 or 92 a bond measure passed in the range of 25 million.  It was considered outlandish at the time.  The measure that passed in 2006 was more than twice that.  Is it me or does that seem disproportionate to the size of our city and school district?  56 million dollars!  Geez, guys…that’s a lot of money.  Really.  It’s a lot.  My understanding is that about 22 million was used to build Havens.  A guaranteed cost from the folks who built it.  Well, I guess for $22 million you could pretty much guarantee to giterdone within the budget!  That’s kinda like saying “I guarantee that if I put 32 sticks of butter in this cake it will taste rich and delicious.”  Or, “If I poke you in the eye with this knitting needle it will hurt.”  You can pretty much take that one to the bank.  It’s comforting to have a guarantee.  It takes the worry out of a situation.  I don’t recall having many guarantees when my kids were at Havens and frankly, I felt triumphant when they arrived home at the end of the day without any broken bones or pending lawsuits.  Good times.  I read in the Post last week that the turf they’re using for the playfield at Havens is manufactured in Italy.  Bravisimo!  It would appear that they’ve spared no expense.  But, I do believe that you get what you pay for and I’m sure that importing the turf from Italy was a reasonable decision. So, three cheers for the new Havens.  It’s really very nice.
Naturally, all this big dollar talk about Havens got me to thinking about the entire district which has 2,542 students.  Suppose there was a bond measure to increase the budget for the actual education?  What if, for every single student in the district we hired a private tutor for an hour, 4 days per week.  The going rate for a tutor is about $75 per hour.  So, that’s 2542 students x 4 days per week = 10,168 sessions per week x 75 per hour =$762,600 per week x 36 weeks in the school year =  $27,453,600 for tutoring for every single student in the district, including kindergarten, for a year.    Geez, guys.  That’s a lot of education.  But, what if we made it more realistic because kindergarteners and first graders probably don’t need tutoring.  So, let’s subtract about 300 students for the K-1st in all three schools.  That brings us to about 2,242 students.  And, since a private tutor for each and every child would be decadent, let’s say we have one tutor for each group of 5 students.  That’s about 448 groups or 448 tutors at $75 per hour.  That’s $33,600 per hour x 4 days per week = $134,400 per week x 36 weeks per school year = $4,838,400.  So, if we used the $56 million that we voted on in 2006, that would give us 11 years of tutoring for all of the students 2nd through 12th grades in the entire district, an hour a day, 4 days per week.  Better check my math but, that’s a lot of tutoring.   Don’t get me wrong.  A new facility is nice but, wouldn’t an education be even better? I’d probably like a cake made with 32 sticks of butter but, I’m sure I could make better choices.  I don’t know the rules about bond measures and all that stuff, but wouldn’t it be great if that big chunk of cash could go toward education?  Can we do that?  Otherwise, we’ll have to bake tons of brownies for the bake sale that will generate that kind of cash.  But, we could probably charge more if we used lots of butter.           

The Pool And The Idiots

Alice In The Insane Asylum
E. Boyer
Thank goodness for Mr. Sakol’s letter to the Post last week regarding Piedmont’s pool and swim club.  This issue, which has been so confusing to me, is now suddenly so clear…….NOT!!  Good Lord, what in the world is Mr. Sakol talking about and what in heaven’s name is going on with the pool?  Also, for the love of God, before you submit a letter to be printed anywhere please have someone else take a look at it just in case it makes absolutely no sense at all!  If you submit something that will be read by a whole bunch of people I believe you have an obligation to make it either accurate or entertaining or both. With all the references to Alice in Wonderland, Humpty Dumpty, funding the dream, flow rates, Josh Bernstein and acrimony the least we could have expected was a 3-D experience.  Reading the article made me feel like I’d actually lost my mind!   It was like Grimm’s fairytales meets bladder control commercial meets Kevin Costner’s Field of Dreams starring Josh Bernstein all narrated by Edgar Allen Poe.   Please, make it stop!  “The DEH inspector who closed the pool found it was in compliance”  Huh?? “The club has never cost the taxpayers a dime.”  Do the words lost revenue mean anything to anyone in this town??  Geez, I dunno and I sure as heck can’t make any sense out of that incoherent “real story” regarding the pool.   No kidding, can we pinkie swear right here and now that if we ever submit something to a newspaper it will sort of make sense.  Seriously, can we?

The Sports Section

The Sports Section
E. Boyer
What is going on in Piedmont?!?  At this stage of my life there are few things that I can still enjoy with full gusto and local sports is one of them.  Imagine my dismay reading the last few issues of The Post and learning that some of our star athletes are leaving!! Say it aint so!  Do you have any idea the joy that springs to an old gals heart seeing all those exciting football shots in the Post of Piedmont’s Quarterback, taking her back to the days of Joe Nameth,  and the Runningback, taking her back to the days of O.J Simpson….aww, c’mom!  The glove didn’t fit!!  And then there are the kids we saw every week during water polo season in less than 3 inches of fabric making Tarzan look like second fiddle and making the sport look like the best thing in the world.  The two co-captains of that team are gone!  Gone!  Why?!?  To those of us who live vicariously through the glorious moves and glorious physiques of our local talent, the recent news of all these exceptional athletes going elsewhere is troubling.  Never mind my loss.  Why are they leaving and what does it mean for Piedmont?  In addition to what might be a really boring Sports Section in The Post, it might also mean that our district is coming up short.  Oh, sure.  Let me guess.  Boo, Grrr, Hiss.   But, before you jump on your pro-PUSD bandwagon, maybe you should ask yourselves if your naive and predictable support of the PUSD is really helping.  There is more to a good and competitive school district than the obnoxiously vocal fan club that insist it’s perfect.   If it’s perfect, students wouldn’t leave.  So, to those of you who cry “Traitor!” to anyone who challenges the status quo, how ‘bout if you surprise us for a change and take an objective look at why any student decides to leave and see if maybe there is something we could do to improve.  Tough love, cupcakes!  Piedmont is a great, little town.  But, what do we have if we don’t have our schools?  Oh sure, we have Mulberrys and we like Laura and the new gal in the Deli, and we have the new Havens and we like it’s fancy organic turf.  But, it’s not enough to make a town.  We need our schools and we need them to be great. If students are leaving, athletes or not, it means something isn’t quite right.  So, instead of just the same ‘ole boring lip service, why not try something a little more innovative..like acknowledging that the reason students are leaving is because there might be a problem and then setting out to fix it.  And yes, I know that there are tremendous athletes who still compete for Piedmont but that doesn’t make right the reasons that others are choosing to leave.  I don’t know about you but, I’m gonna miss seeing Jungle-Boy dominate the pool and god know what I’ll do if the football program goes away!



Speed Dial

We Do Have Them On Speed-Dial
E. Boyer
My friend of over 40 years has a new neighbor.  When you live in a neighborhood for a long time you often have the pleasure (or misfortune) of new neighbors.  The new neighbor in Piedmont is typically a young couple with young children.  I assume this is due to the notion that our schools are good. My friend gets great pleasure from all the new activity.  He especially enjoys it when the new neighbor is “a little smart-ass-know-it-all.”  I believe that with this particular type he views their abrasive personality as a challenge which ultimately ends with an up-hill climb for the young and unsuspecting newbie .  Too bad, because it could so easily have been avoided with good, old fashioned  “manners.”  What is it about these Gen X’ers that gives them their outrageous sense of entitlement?  The idea that they can come into any environment and run the show?  “Hey, I’m gonna need you to move your car this week because I have a construction crew coming in and they’ll need that space.”  Or “Hey, I’m pretty sure your fence crosses my property line so you’ll need to take care of that.” Or “I’ve just discovered that the roots of your tree have caused my plumbing to fail so I’m gonna need you to reimburse me for new pipes.”  Oh, dear.  Well, now you’ve gone and done it.  You’ve revealed yourself to be the most tragic combination of all…new AND ill-mannered.  So, the response from the old neighbors is typically something like: “Hey, Booster-Seat, why don’t you jump back on your Hippity-Hop and ride into town again, this time with a better attitude and a little humility?  And, by the way, that giant, imported Magnolia tree that you paid a fortune for and planted on your sidewalk strip will never be approved by The City.  That’s right, every street in the city of Piedmont has an approved tree and no, they won’t make an exception for you just because you huff and puff and use big, fancy words and yes, we all knew this little factoid but didn’t share it with you because, quite frankly, you irritate us.”  So, yep…the Magnolia will have to go.  That’s sorta how it works.  You see, there is something sacred about manners and humility. It tells the world around you that you understand and respect that you are just a tiny part of a much bigger thing.  It tells those around you that you appreciate and value their existence as you share this tiny space on the planet and all of the little experiences that make up our lives.  Be kind and friendly when you meet your new neighbors.  Don’t assume that anyone will be impressed because you came here from an upitty East Coast town or that at 32 you bought a house in Piedmont.  Remember, we all bought houses here, too…and without our parent’s help.   So, “Welcome”all you spirited young newcomers! Mind your manners, check with the city before you plant any trees and for God’s sake, don’t start bossing folks around right out of the gate!  Try to walk a little softer until you’ve been around for 15 or 20 years.  Tip: We have the city inspector on speed-dial.  We can either, sit back and enjoy all the lovely improvements you make to your new home or our bi-weekly bridge club can become the betting pool for how many times we shut down your project.  O.K., O.K., I’m just kidding about the betting pool.  Well, sorta.

Candid Camera Fido

 Candid Camera Fido
E. Boyer

Can someone tell me why there is dog poop on my lawn?  In all the years I’ve lived in Piedmont, this practice of dog owners allowing their pets to poop on other people’s lawns is one of the strangest things our little town has to offer.  Sure, there are some responsible pet owners who dutifully bring along their plastic bags and deposit the little gem in the nearest garbage bin but, then there are the other kind…the not so dutiful pet owners who feel like the dirty, smelly fecal matter that comes out of their dog’s rear end is a gift from the Gods and you should be appreciative that it graced your lawn.  Does this mean it’s o.k. for my neighbor to knock on their front door and say “Hey, my kid just filled his diaper to the brim and I’m gonna leave it here on your doorstep….he’s a charming kid really, and we’d like for you to share in that magic.”  We’ve actually watched in amazement from our living room window a few times at what we call “The Phantom Fecal’er.”  Here he comes, in his Harvard t-shirt looking on with pride as his dog, which incidentally is the size of a baby Hippo, lets it all out on my lawn…”it” being the size of microwave!!  Are you telling me that, per his t-shirt, he attended Harvard but can’t figure out that it may not be ok to let his dog violate my lawn?  Oh, I get it, maybe his dog went to some sort of Doggie-Harvard and the two of them together are so busy being smart that they forgot their manners.  Yeah, that’s probably it.  Oh, and just curious…is it ok if people poop on other people’s lawns as long as they pick it up with the little plastic bags?  What?!?  Geez, it’s a legitimate question!  After all, poop is poop!  And, by the way, the gift left behind by Hippo-doggie required a Gallon size freezer bag…not kidding.  Hey, what if we started catching all of the Phantom Fido episodes on video and submit them to KCOM?  You have to admit it would be more interesting than the current KCOM fodder. C’mon…Admit it!  Seriously, this could add a whole new dimension to the evening entertainment lineup in Piedmont.  Instead of just lounging around gossiping over cocktails, we could be lounging around gossiping over cocktails while watching a neighbor demonstrate his/her genuinely inflated sense of superiority and self worth to the degree that they wouldn’t dream of having their dog poop on their own lawn.  In fact, they and their super-sized ego have decided that you actually installed a lawn just so that their dog could have a place to poop.  This sort of reality t.v. may be a little too organic for KCOM….but seriously, who do I talk to about that?  In the meantime, if you see some crazy person dropping their drawers in your front yard, don’t even think about makin’ a stink (funny) because you’ll know it means I caught you on video and it’s payback time.  And by the way, my fiber intake is off the charts so you may wanna stock up on the Gallon size bags…  

I Mean It, Mom!!

 I Mean It, Mom.  Do NOT Get The Kindle…She Said She wants The iPad!!
Can someone tell me what ever happened to “Pin the Tail on the Donkey?”  And while we’re at it, can someone also tell me what happened to ice cream and cake, and simple but thoughtful gifts?  Is it me or does $500 seem kinda steep for a birthday gift for a 12 year old classmate-type kid.  Not your favorite niece or nephew.  Just “ole what’s- his-name.”  Well, hold onto your money clips, fellow Piedmonters because that’s where we’re headed.  It’s all a little hard for me to fathom because I’ve always been of the mind that there could be no better birthday gift for a child of any age than a batch of  homemade cookies or a pasta shell picture frame with me and the birthday boy/gal adorning said frame…classic.  Or, how about a lanyard bracelet or key chain that you stayed up until midnight four nights in row twisting and twirling into just the right pattern?  No more.   Thought and financial discipline seem to be a thing of the past. The industry standard has now become hiring the Hummer limo to take the birthday girl and 20 of her very best friends for mani-pedis, a no-limit Nordstrom shopping spree, dinner at Gary Danko and then wind it down with a 2 hour Zeppelin ride over the Bay?  Too much?  Hold on.  There’s more.    It seems these little pre- pubescent bastards are also running down to the Apple store and buying iPads and the latest hand-held devices for their “friends.” That’s right, stealing their parent’s car keys and credit cards right out of their wallets and driving themselves to the Apple store!  Yes, 12 and 13 years olds driving to the Apple store!!  Oh…wait a minute.  This just in…seems my info was a little off base.  I’m now told that it’s actually the parents of the 12 and 13 year olds who are driving to the Apple store and using their very own credit cards to purchase the iPads for the casual-friend birthday gift.  Oops..my mistake.  Well, I don’t know about you but I’m feeling a heck of a lot better knowing that it’s the parents and not the children behaving like anxious, insecure twits desperately hoping to buy their way to the top of the social “in-crowd” ladder.  After all, if the kids were behaving like this I’d say we need to add to the required 7th grade reading list the old standard, Emily Post’s Book of Etiquette, for a review of the guidelines for appropriate gift giving.  We might also have had to consider sending them to some sort of Family Values Summer Day Camp or a Warren Buffet’s The Little Book of Value Investing For 7th Graders Camp.  Anyway, with the hefty workload they already have at PMS, adding these extra activities could wreak havoc.  So…Phewf!! What a relief!  Soooo glad it’s the parents and not the kids.  I mean, at least with the parents they understand the potential for financial ruin that can come from overspending and the importance of teaching their children substance over showy superficiality.  They learned all about it in the Why Isn’t My 16 Year Old Happy With Their New Mercedes S-Class support group.  But, if they know all that, why is this sort of thing happening?  Maybe it’s because it’s just so darned much fun.  So, now what?  Geez… they’ll probably have to do something like, I dunno, be responsible.  Uuggh.  Don’t you hate it when that happens??