Thankful

So this is the season where people who are ungrateful all year long decide to write down/think about what they're thankful for. I, however, am not feeling thankful this year. The thing is, I should be. There are lots of things I have to be thankful for, including the fact that my boy's family, much like my own, does not make you go around the table, putting you on the spot to say stupid heartwarming things about which you're thankful.

This week, even though I only have to make it through two work days, I am having a really rough time. Things are not going how I pictured it (and for those of you who know me well, know I don't like it when things aren't how I picture it).

Last night though, we were watching an episode of The Waltons and there was a scene that clearly didn't go how the director had pictured it. I am happy they left it as is though, cause I couldn't stop laughing last night and even though I am angry and bitter about some things today, I remembered this scene long enough to laugh once more today.

In the episode titled: The Outage The family is having dinner together and discussing racism and freedom and people's rights. They've just finished telling a story about Lena Horne who was entertaining troops at Fort Reilly, Kansas during World War II, when she saw German POWs seated in the front row and African American soldiers forced to sit behind them. They said she walked to the end of the row of POWs turned her back on them and sang to the black soldiers.

There's a pause after this dramatic story and then the kid playing John Curtis (who must be about two) pats his "grandfather" on the shoulder and pipes up"I got new pants." John (his grandfather) says "I see that. Who got you those, your mommy?" John Curtis replies "No, from Pat" (there's no pat on the show). John says "From Pat? Where does she live? On the next farm?" To which, a rather confused John Curtis says "Yeah." and John finishes with "Okay, Good." It was impressive. As one person said: "Ralph Waite was smart enough to cover it up since John Curtis was so excited that he got a new pants. The producer thought it was cute and they decided to leave it alone. Pat Norris was the costume designer for the Waltons"

I think it loses something in the translation here, but I couldn't stop laughing. It also helps that this total non-sequitur regarding pants reminds me of my favorite ad: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tIq58H6CYQU "I invented pants."

So maybe I'm thankful that some people are so proud of the fact that we all put our pants on one leg at a time, whether we invented them or we got them from Pat. . .

UPDATE: I thought I had posted this ad before, and it turns out I did, here. Also, in the process of searching for where I posted it, I came across a New York Time's article I posted about Christmas sweaters. I know it's still a little early for some people to think about Christmas, but it's worth looking at if you're not intentionally avoiding Christmas.

Warning, a little depressing and graphic

I loved Spoon River Anthology when I was in high school. A series of poems that are the epitaphs of various residents of Spoon River. Tonight, while skimming various blog posts I saw a link for the Texas Department of Criminal Justice which reminded me of that book.

On the site, they listed the offender information and last statement for the executed offenders since 1982:http://www.tdcj.state.tx.us/stat/executedoffenders.htm I am not posting this to further a discussion on whether capital punishment is right or wrong. Some of the crimes these people committed are horrific. But reading their last statement first and then their crime, somehow lends more sympathy for them. It may not be of interest to all of you (or any of you), but that's how I've spent my evening, solemnly reading last statements and then records of crimes.

Some of the crimes seem unbelievable, like a made for tv movie, one man had a 160 mile crime spree killing family members and random other people at one point kidnapping a family of five and forcing them to drive him across a border. Some of the crimes are so senseless, a person murdered in an armed robbery that only resulted in getting a six pack. So basically a life (two if you think of the death penalty as murder) all traded for a six pack of beer, there's no mention of whether the criminal actually consumed it or not. Some of the crimes are heartbreaking, one man attacking two people as they left church, stealing $40 from a woman who he then shot and attempted to cut her face with a carpet knife as she prayed to God to forgive her attacker.

I don't know how to explain this fascination I have for this site, the humanizing affect it has on otherwise faceless criminals, the empathetic urges it produces both for the criminal and for the families left in the wake of these crimes. . .

Haven't I seen you on tv?!

So a month or so ago, possibly during the meltdown of Thursday Night Outreach as we know it, or maybe the week before or after, a guy said to me, "I feel like I've seen you on tv."

I said I had never been on tv, but that was flattering, then I proceeded to ask what show. I mean I have been mistaken for Mayim Bialik before, so maybe he was thinking of Blossom? Or Perhaps he thought I could be on a news program? A cooking show?

Nope, he didn't think any of those were it. He said, "Maybe America's funniest Home Videos? Or, Candid Camera?" Great. That's just the persona I want. The kind of person who looks like she gets hit in the crotch or was a bride who slipped and fell on her ass. I said "nope, sorry. . ."

Then I remembered back to my first week here at my job in Boston. There was one incident that had me completely convinced I was on candid camera. So much so that I seriously did look around for the camera.

I was assigned a copying task that involved programming the copier to sort and staple a publication that was well over 50 pages long. Because it was such a large document the document feeder could only take half of the pages at a time. I started the project and went to work on something else. When I came back to the copier what I saw was horrifying*. There were just reams of paper shooting out, falling in huge swathes to the floor. The glow of the light from the copier only made the continued stream of falling pages seem even worse.

After looking around to see if anyone had noticed (or if there were any cameras), I stopped the machine and gathered all the pages together. Clutching them to myself. I ducked into one of the stacks (more difficult than you might think since we have compact shelving). I assessed the damage and realized that part of the problem was that the copier hadn't sorted the pages so they were all being dumped one on top of each other on the top tray. In a panicked moment of stupidity, I began sorting all the pages myself. putting them in different piles to try and collate together. It took me longer than it should have to realize that with the thousands of pages I had in front of me, it would be impossible to sort all the pages back in my little compact shelving alcove without someone (in my office of three employees) realizing something was amiss.

One of the hardest things I've had to do (and yes, probably this is where you really see how blessed I am) was to walk to the front of my office with my arms full of papers and confess to thoroughly messing up the small task I'd been given. My boss was very gracious and, despite my offers to pay for the three reams of paper I'd thoroughly destroyed, she suggested I just try again and forget about the first try.

Eight years later and I'm still here, but boy was I glad when that first week was over!

*I swear there was a movie in the 80s that featured a copier shooting paper out in a similar manner and at this point I was going to link to the youtube featuring it, sadly, I can't find a video of the scene (I think it was 9 to 5 in the xerox room)