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Posts Tagged ‘Peeves’

I’m about to take Gideon to soccer practice. I always feel like an elephant at the rhino watering hole when I go to soccer practice. I just don’t fit in.

But I do like to watch my kids having fun.

Trish the Human took this picture of Dominic in his first game. Notice the concentration.

Also notice something else. It’s on the left. What is this?

Does this woman not own a mirror? Make sure to look at the back view, people!

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Why are home improvement projects always so fraught with disaster?

Take our back door, for example. It was supposed to be a simple matter of replacing the old door because the bottom had rusted. But Lowe’s ordered the wrong size, something you don’t really know until you get it home. Maybe their slogan should be “Let’s Build Something Together, But We Won’t Really Help You At All. So Really,  You Should Build Something Alone.”

So Eddie placed it temporarily in the frame, and went to call Lowe’s to complain and reorder the right size. And this is what happened:

That’s $250 in shards.

Today, we had to get an electrician to come over to help us with our outdoor lighting. The geniuses hired by the previous owners had simply buried the electrical cable in a shallow grave. Lightning likes electrical wires. So that was the end of the outdoor lighting.

Eddie had to buy PVC pipe and new, thicker cable, and then dig up the back yard to bury the new cable. And he promptly hit an irrigation pipe.

And so the electrician is here. I’m looking through the back door, and I see plenty of frowning. There’s some pointing and gesturing. And now Eddie and the electrician are digging. That can’t be good.

Update: The electrician said, “Let there be light.” And there was. And it was good.

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An AP abuse alarm

A news organization’s improper use of AP Style is apparently enough to get me out of bed earlier than planned.

I checked my iPhone when I woke up, as is my habit, and found this:

It is from the Savannah Morning News, of course. And the person who posted it on the Web probably just cut and pasted from a press release. But that person should have copy edited the entry (and the person who wrote the release also should use AP Style, as it is what media folks use). Here is what I would have done:

As I’ve said before, the Web deserves copy editing too.

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I’m talking to you, 27B

You, madam, are a bitch. There is no other way to put it. You pushed your way down the aisle to get to your seat as if someone had plans to snatch it. You didn’t want to let me into my seat, which was, unfortunately, 27A.

You read the paper with your spidery hand extended very near my face. You sighed loudly at the things you read, made clucking noises, and laughed loudly — all without acknowledging there were other humans near you. You ignored me, which was fine because I am not a flight chatter, but I sensed contempt.

I tried not to touch your leathery, chapped elbow as you took up more than your share of armrest. I pretended I was on a recliner in first class. Alone.

When we landed, you leaped into the aisle like you were Maurren Higa Maggi. I never expected that someone of your advanced age could be so spry.

But you still had to wait to get off the plane, just like everyone else. And you are still a bitch.

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It seems so idyllic: A mother helps her young children color eggs for Easter. And this is a happy-looking scene:

The reality is that this was one of the only peaceful moments. For 95 percent of the afternoon, it was a cacophony.

“Mama! He’s got my crayon!”

“I wanted the blue!”

“Get your egg out of there!”

“Stop slinging the dye!” (OK, that was me.)

And I also had to explain what the Easter Bunny has to do with Jesus. Like Christmas, Easter is a holiday of mixed messages: “Eat candy and think about Jesus.” Kids are right: It doesn’t make any sense. But as adults, we kind of go along with it.

I wasn’t going to give them Easter baskets because my kids don’t need candy. Don’t say, “Aww, that’s mean,” unless you know them. And if you know them, you wouldn’t say it. I caved and made small ones for them. Shortly after they hunted those slimy eggs and tore into the baskets, I regretted my decision. Their shrieks nearly made my ears bleed and their playroom looked like a Toys R Us had exploded.

I may have gone a little berserk. I may have smashed one of their toy guitars like I was Pete Townshend. I may not invite the Easter Bunny over again.

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I’m not a fan of April Fool’s Day. I think I have a good sense of humor, but I don’t think pranks are funny.

If someone is going to be a fool, then I hope there is a camera around to capture it (I am the target audience for America’s Funniest Home Videos and the like).  But I don’t like pranks because I feel sorry for the victim, and it is really the prankster who looks the fool.

Maybe it is the role of the prankster to put life in perspective with humor, but this party pooper thinks there are better ways. Harumph.

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Memorial Health University Medical Center has Wi-Fi, which is quite nice. You would think all hospitals would have it, but you’d be wrong. Because of my mom, dad and Eddie, I’ve sampled many hospitals.

Anyway, thanks to Memorial’s Wi-Fi, I’m able to write and upload this post. Eddie is having his third, and last (I hope), cardiac ablation today.

What’s that? Well, it is a procedure where a cardiologist (as opposed to a dermatologist, or someone who stayed at a Holiday Inn) threads a catheter into the heart and burns the crap out of the part of the heart that is causing it to beat irregularly. Read this for a more technical overview.

Eddie has had this procedure twice already, so I don’t know how much non-scarred tissue there is left. After each ablation, the doctor has said, “That should do it.” And it hasn’t. Yes, we got a second opinion. The second doctor just wanted to keep shocking Eddie’s heart back into rhythm, all “ER” style.

Anyway, here we are, at Memorial again, and hoping for the best.

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Nearly out to pasture

Eddie looks like the picture of health: a tall, brawny, handsome rascal.

The truth is that he is a wreck. In the past five years, he’s had surgery on both his knees, his left shoulder, has endured bouts of plantar fasciitis, and had his nose fixed twice.

Then there’s his heart. Two years ago, he felt short of breath and went to the hospital. The doctor said, “atrial flutter,” got his heart back in rhythm and sent him on his merry way. Little did we know that was the beginning of a long road. Atrial fibrillation, then a couple of cardiac ablations, yada yada yada, and he’s back in the hospital.

Yep, I just “yadayada’d” over a couple of years of a lovely relationship with Dr. Jenkins, the cardiologist. Let’s put it this way: After each ablation, the doctor said Eddie wouldn’t have any more problems.

Last night, after basketball at open gym, Eddie was back at Memorial. And his third ablation is scheduled for Tuesday. Fun.

He’s going to be discharged soon. In the meantime, he’s having a fabulous time with his favorite adjudicator, Judge Mathis.

Here is my theory:

While he doesn’t experience atrial extravaganzas every time he plays basketball, every time the atrial business happens, it is after basketball. And all his ailments detailed above are basketball-related. So, I’m thinking he needs to limit his basketball intake to watching March Madness. Anyone with me?


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I know I just wrote a new post, but then Caila, SCAD Radio‘s general manager, shared this with me:

Full link here.

Forget that the writer clearly doesn’t know AP Style. She has bigger issues. Evidence: the very first sentence. I’m guessing she meant “descend” not “decent.”

But wait, there’s more. Gaze upon this section:

So let’s help her out on the big ones:

  • “dies” should be “dyes”
  • “chanel” should be “channel”
  • “affect” should be “effect”

I love the “rumor vs. reality” theme, and I like her voice. What I don’t like, of course, is that it is riddled with mistakes she should have caught. And I’m guessing Savannah Morning News writers post directly to the Web without benefit of a copy editor’s glance.

SIGH.

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So I’m on high alert for interesting signs now. My friends know this, and have shared some spectacular ones. This is the one everyone sent me this week:

Nope. Still not right.

Near “South of the Border” (!) I discovered a place with a treasure trove of fireworks. The labels are amazing. Check it out:

Perfect for St. Patrick's Day

There’s nothing grammatically wrong, but I’m not sure I like the idea of flaming balls.

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