Friday, January 26, 2007

We're so great, we're so fine ...

... We're the Class of '89!"

I'm meeting up with my high school friends in a couple of weeks at our 20th annual Christmas party. We've been celebrating with our own girls' Christmas party since we were 15.

Christmas in February, you may ask. Well, now that many of us are married, have kids, busy jobs, etc., it's tough to meet around the holidays. January/February seems to work out the best.

Anyway, I stumbled upon our high school fight song on our high school Web site so I thought I'd pass it along for my '80s chicas so we can sing it when we're downing margaritas.

Here it is:

Pequot Lakes Patriots School Song

We’re loyal to you Pequot High

We’re red, white, and blue, Pequot High

We’ll back you to stand

Against the best in the land,

For we know you will stand, Pequot High

Rah, Rah!

So smash those blockades Pequot High

Go crashing ahead Pequot High

Our team is the famed protector

On team for we expect a Victory

from you, Pequot High

V-I-C-T-O-R-Y

Yea, Patriots Fight

So smash those blockades Pequot High!

Go crashing ahead Pequot High!

Our team is the famed Protector,

On team, for we expect a Victory

from you Pequot High.

A few of my favorite things ...

Often my co-workers will glance over at my cubicle and catch me chuckling to myself.

This can mean one of two things:

My friend Suze sent me an e-mail detailing her latest online dating disaster.
or
I'm reading one of my favorite blogs.
(or I've gone mad. This, too, is possible.)

A friend (you know who you are!) mentioned a favorite blogger of hers on her blogsite so I followed her link and fell in love with it, too.

So I thought I'd share the links to a few of my favorite writers I check out nearly every day:

  • Mom-101, a New York City writer and mom.
  • Suburban Turmoil, a Nashville writer and mom.
  • Looky, Daddy!, a New York City writer and father of three (Thanks, Rebecca!)
  • Cribsheet, a Star Tribune blog for Twin Cities moms and dads.
  • SnarkSpot, chick lit author Jennifer Weiner's weblog.

Enjoy! :)

Welcome to the world, Izaak!


I thought I'd show off a photo of my new little cousin, Izaak, born Wednesday to my cousin Heather and her boyfriend, Todd.

Izaak Russell weighed in at 8 pounds, 1 ounce, and is 20-1/2 inches long.

Thursday, January 25, 2007

An argument for state-mandated birth control

As an education reporter, I write a lot of stories about kids in schools.

Duh.

Well, I'm still constantly amazed at the parents out there who act as immature as their offspring. At the paper we get calls all the time from parents who want to complain about things that their children SAY have happened at school but the parents themselves never actually call the schools to check it out themselves. Instead, they call the newspaper to do the work for them — Drives me crazy.

Case in point: I've had to call two different principals at separate schools during the past year to check out a complaint from the same parent that the schools have run out of food in the cafeteria and her little darling went without a meal. ("Please, sir, may I have some more?" - Reminds me of "Oliver.") The truth was (and this was the same circumstance at both the middle school and high school) that the schools have 4-5 lunch lines of offerings for students, much different that the choices I had at PLHS back in the day (hot lunch drowning in gravy, salad bar or hard butter slathered between two slices of white bread. Who serves kids this kind of crap?).

Well, since the lunch ladies can't guess what meals students will be most hungry for that day (hamburger and fries or pizza or spaghetti or a sub sandwich, for example) then sometimes one line runs out before the others...but the point is, THERE IS ALWAYS FOOD TO BE EATEN THERE, it just might not be the chicken nuggets you've been craving all morning.

I had to argue with this parent on the phone, telling her what the high school principal told me. She swore her daughter "always" tells the truth and does not lie about things like this.

Another parent called my editor a couple of weeks ago to report that a bunch of students at a local high school were going to stage a walkout during a math class at a specific time to protest the unfair treatment and mental abuse of the teacher.

Puh-lease.

But yes, I had to waste my time tracking down this potential story, which didn't happen.

Another parent last fall during Homecoming called to tell me how her daughter called her during lunch and told her she had to go home and change her blue-and-white clothing and wash the school colors off her face, as did her friends, because school administrators weren't allowing them to show any school spirit during Homecoming Week.

After the principal stopped laughing at me, he said that it absolutely was not true.

So I guess my point is, there are probably many parents out there who do take an active role in their children's education and would call their teachers or principals immediately if they had any concerns they were being starved or mentally abused at school.

But why does it seem the irrational ones have the newspaper phone numbers on speed dial?

Thursday, January 11, 2007

Birthdays in Heaven


I just noticed the date after I posted my previous blog entry — Jan. 11. It would have been my grandma Hester Knapp's 96th birthday today. She was 92 when she died July 2, 2003, of Alzheimer's.



My grandma had the best birthdate. She was born Jan. 11, 1911, or 1-11-11. One of my coworkers is hoping she'll die on her birthday so the dates on her grave marker match up, but I think having a cool birthdate is something you can actually enjoy — and brag about to others — your whole life. Who really cares what day you die — as long as you've led a happy, long life.

So grandma, I hope you're enjoying your birthday in Heaven. Every Jan. 11th I'll be thinking about you, and look forward to your 100th birthday four years from now.

I'll show you mine, if you show me yours ...

So I'm off to the dermatologist tomorrow to have him check out a strange mole on the side of my calf, something my ob/gyn was concerned about when I had an appt. a few weeks ago.

The problem is, I've actually been in the operating room when a doctor sawed off a chunk of someone's face once in order to remove the mole. I was there doing a story on skin cancer. I watched the blood oozing out of the incision site as he cut a square around the mole. They take more skin than you'd think when they do lob the mole off.

So now armed with this information — and flashbacks from the surgery — I'm hoping that I don't have to go through that tomorrow. I'm probably worrying for nothing, but I managed to get most of the newsroom chatting about moles today — and experiencing our own twisted adult version of "Show and Tell." My coworker Matt and I have strange moles located in nearly the exact same spot on our calves but his is much larger. How weird is that?

But we all concluded that it was even more strange that we know WAY too much about one another than is probably normal!