Comes this story from the Ukraine that I just couldn’t pass up: “Croc gulps phone, starts ringing.” That’s how the headline read. A woman taking a photo with her cell phone at a zoo leaned over the crocodile pen — always a wise thing to do, lean over a crocodile pen! — and dropped it. Mistaking it for a dead chicken, and not realizing he would have to assume the 2-year cell phone contract with additional data and text charges, the croc swallowed it. Zookeepers didn’t believe the woman’s story until the croc started ringing, and checking his stocks, and tweeting that the zoo food made a wombat puke purple for a week.
Brother bonding under power lines and the roar of a chain saw
As the giant mulberry branch crashed to earth, nearly crushing me to death, all that ran through my mind was this: “Man, I sure do love these projects with my brother.” When I say “giant,” I mean the kind of branch that brushes the fuselage of airliners. They never seem so big when you’re standing there pondering the angle of the cut, how it will fall or why if there’s beer in the fridge you’re out here in the first place. But the minute it starts to go — the minute it starts coming for YOU! — the full scope, scale and size become crystal clear. RUN!
Skyping away those childhood dreams
There I was, sitting at the computer having a video conference across Skype with a guy in Nicaragua. He’s the designer on the college magazine I edit, a former college professor who picked up and moved to Central America because the surfing’s good and it gets him farther away from me. We Skype a lot. If you don’t know, Skype isn’t a kind of fish, but a program that lets two people video chat across the Internet. It’s almost as good as being in the same room, only I can’t reach across the desk, grab his shirt and scream, “Where are my pages?” (I miss that part.) So there we were, chatting it up like I’ve done dozens of times before when the grandest of revelations occurred to me: “Holy time machines, I’m in the future!”
The Great Holiday Food Exorcism
It takes mental fortitude — steel in your boots, ice water in your veins, the courage of 18 lions — to do what I did. There was a half-eaten box of chocolate turtles sitting on the kitchen counter. It was like a drug pusher trying to lull me in every time I walked by: “Hey buddy, you looking for chocolate bliss? Why don’t you come over here. This’ll make you fly.” Oh, OK. Maybe just 14. When I caught myself in a staring contest with the box — tears running down my face as I begged for it to release its demonic hold — I finally realized what had to be done. An old fashioned exorcism.
Oh, For the Sake of ‘Tradition!’
“Tradition,” bellows Tevye like a summer thunderstorm in “Fiddler on the Roof.” “Tradition!” It’s been stuck in my head since I saw my sister Lauren’s high school production of it last month. She played Golde, and I must say she was quite good. Well, that is if you can get past this blonde teenage, very-American girl playing a Russian Jewish mother of five in turn-of-last-century peasant garb and heavy accent. Excuse me, but didn’t I just see you on a smart phone texting a friend? How peasant is that?!? Anyway, that song’s been bouncing around in my head ever since, which is maybe why Tevye called me the other day, his voice disguised as my mother’s.
Ruminating on Those Christmas Mysteries
On Christmas Eve — as the most magical, special and wondrous holiday pokes its nose ‘round the corner — I ponder for a moment the great Christmas mysteries. Those perplexing questions that weigh on our festive minds and make us stay up late at night scratching our heads and staring at walls. Big, complex, unexplainable mysteries … like why dogs and cats are drawn to the Christmas tree. No doubt your animal is, too. I watched a video the other day of a cat who climbed up into someone’s Christmas tree, and it reminded me of my cats when I was little. They toppled the tree one year. Another used to — how do I put this delicately? — “mark” the tree as his own (presents, too.)
An Illuminating Christmas Tradition
“You know what we’re doing tonight?” I asked the assembled at the dinner table … even an anxious dog. “We’re going to see CHRISTMAS LIGHTS!” And many merry “yees” and “yahoos” were heard all around (even from an anxious dog.) For nothing says Christmas like cruising neighborhoods in search of the spectacular, audacious, gaudy, inspiring, kilowatt-consuming Christmas light displays. It’s a serious and time-honored tradition in my house — one that goes back to my own childhood and similar adventures with my dad. What a joy to now share it with my daughter.
Holiday Gift Giving 101
Could you use a little gift-giving advice this time of year? I figured as much, so I thought I would share some of my time-honored tricks and traditions that are sure to help you this holiday season: • A couple years ago, my brother and I were sitting somewhere when we both turned to each other at the exact same moment and blurted out, “How about we stop giving each other Christmas presents … FOREVER!” It was probably during a drunken fight, but with a quick handshake we cemented the most brilliant holiday tradition ever imagined: the “brother I love you, but ain’t buying you nothing for Christmas” tradition. It’s a way of getting back to the reason for the season, and eliminating at least one person from the shopping list. It works for us and might just work for you.
As the Christmas Gift Sharks Circle
The gift sharks are circling. Hungry and anxious, their teeth snapping as they break the surface. Fins ominously cutting through the water, splashing, growing more impatient. Waiting for something to fall so they can snap it up. Their ghost-like cries of, “What does Amelie want for Christmas? Tell me what Amelie wants for Christmas!” Wait a minute … sharks don’t talk! But they do in my family. Do you have any gift sharks in your brood? We all do, especially when there are children around. In my family there is only one child, which means all attention turns to her come Christmas time. And that can be a little much. It’s like chum in the water and a full-on feeding frenzy.
The Only Trouble with Traveling? All that Packing!
There’s this scene in the 80s remake of “The Fly” where Jeff Goldblum — this quirky, eccentric scientist — explains he has five sets of the same outfit in his closet so he never has to expend brainpower deciding what to wear. When you’re a mad scientist, you need to spend all your heavy thinking on more noble causes, like how to accidentally turn yourself into a giant, dung-loving insect. Makes sense — the outfit part, at least. I think of that scene every time I get ready for a trip. Or more importantly, pack for a trip. Because in my mind there are few things worse in the world — maybe a beaver trimming my toenails — than packing. Mind you, I love to travel. You give me a chance to take a trip and I’m halfway through airport security before you can say, “if you want a seat with a seat belt, that’s an extra $25.”