As I sat down to string a few words together, some television staples of my childhood came to mind. Imagine my surprise when I realized that it is no longer a week in review happening over there at PBS. Of course, since I stopped watching tv in 1995, I really shouldn’t be surprised that I missed Washington Week’s name change back in 1999.
According to seemingly all school-children’s favorite on-line source, Wikipedia, the name change signifies the current host’s desire to look forward and not just behind. And I can see the marketability of such a move, painting yourself as forward-thinking and all that. But there is also something to be said for reviewing what has just passed. For without reviewing one’s course, how can one ever accurately adjust one’s sails to meet the next headwind?
A bit over 18 years ago, I was given a turd ball. And I’ve cherished it ever since. That might seem either weird or perverted, but it isn’t. Instead, the gift of a turd ball was a demonstration of love and compassion. And that turd ball is one of my very favorite things.
Last night my dearest critique partner (aka husband) was wandering about the web while waiting for me to hand him the laptop. He came upon this post and after I changed my clothes and used the urine remover on the couch, we had a somber moment reflecting on the differences between the genders and families and such things as hormonal and mental unbalances. (In case you’re wondering, this was a normal night around here.) Which leads me to my Friday Missive.
Why are we the way we are? Is it gender? Birth order? The dropping-on-head events along the way? Was it the god-awful clothing options of the 1970s? Hell if I know, but I can’t help but reflect here a bit. I have a feeling it’s going to be along the lines of the dull side of the aluminum foil, but I feel the need to reflect. Read more…