Thanksgiving in Illinois

An Offending Pile

So, I'm standing in my living room letting my mind wander for a minute or two as I stare out the window and watch the day go by, and I see my neighbors walking their dogs down the street. They are nice neighbors who are always friendly and responsible with their property. That is to say they aren't like the other neighbors who heap rubbish behind their house like Ma and Pa Kettle and let their dogs bark for thirty minutes at a time . Anyway, I see the nice people walking their dogs, a big golden retriever who is as sweet as can be and as dumb as a post—he once ate a sock and nearly died before it was surgically removed—and a new golden retriever puppy. Then I see Neighbor Wife suddenly run down the street with the big dog. Then I see Neighbor Husband stopped in front of my house with the puppy on its leash. And then I see the puppy taking a huge dump in my grass. Let me tell you, that is not done in this town unless the dog owner has a plastic bag handy and is ready to pick up ...

Long Live Anita Bowser

You know I occasionally check my hometown newspaper's website to scan the obituaries (morbid, I know, but I'm at that age). Over this past weekend, I read the obituary of Indiana State Senator Anita Bowser . She was a noted Democrat who championed causes protecting the neediest in the state's population. She was respected on both sides of the aisle for her intelligence and plain and outspoken approach to law making. The picture on her senate page is lovely. I remember none of those things about Anita Bowser . My first year or so in college was spent at a branch of Purdue University, and in the early 80s, Anita was a political science professor. She taught my American Government class my freshman year, and she was a mess. Somewhere in my old text book, I have a sketch of her drawn on a particularly dull day in class--her hose sagged at her ankles, her slip showed at least half an inch all the way around, her hair had been slept on but not brushed, and her bright red lip stic...

A New Ride

I have a new car. I have a new car. I have a new car. I traded in my big-ass Pacifica for a Camry Hybrid. It's pretty. See? It has keyless ignition (which seems to serve no purpose but to keep you from having to put the key in the ignition). It has heated seats. It has dual climate control. It has a talking map with little flags to represent the location of restaurant--for example, Bob Evans is marked with an American flag, and a pizza shop is marked with an Italian flag. It has a sunroof which I will never open because the passing wind sucks out my ears. It also has Sirius radio, and so now I have my very own Broadway channel and the Amaazing Seth Rudestsky. I think Seth and I are going to become good friends. Cars don't bring happiness, but this one brings show tunes.

Scout Moves

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