Monthly Archives: April 2017

Bryd Middle School

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I am weighing in on the current (Spring 2017) Los Angeles School Board Election.  I’ve never done that before.

But, some guy came to the door and gave me a pamphlet. Ironically, my mail-in ballot had just arrived from the postman.

So, I checked out his candidate’s website. She’s young and full of energy.  She’ll make a positive difference for our children.

And, since I’m all about due diligence, I also dialed up her opponent’s website.

She’s also young, she wants to make a difference.  To improve our childrens’ education.

Whew!  Because, I thought for sure one of them would suck.  And, I would be able to tell that from their very vague promises.  Charters?  Funding?  Taxes?  China?

Now, I’m not going to tell you who I voted for. But, if someone is running for the School Board, I don’t expect to find 4 or 5 easy, easy typos on their website. (Like the misspelling of her Middle School’s name.)

She’s running for School Board.

The Last Word by the First Light

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A clearly annoyed Isabella (she’s 10) on the drive in to school this morning:

Iz:  Look what time it is!  I’m gonna be late.  They’re gonna yell at me.

Me (also visibly annoyed):  And, do you know why you are going to be late?

Iz: It’s because you need to wake me up earlier than you do.

Me [with a little upward inflection]: Nooo. I woke you up plenty early enough.

Iz: Yeah.  Because you know I like to stay in bed after you wake me up.  And, sometimes I fall back asleep.  So, you should wake me up earlier.

Me: Let me get this straight.  I’m supposed to wake up even earlier so that you can fall back asleep.

Iz: Yeah, that seems fair.

Me [a rage is building]:  How is that fair?! Maybe you should get your butt out of bed, get dressed, not yell at me for 10 minutes because you can’t find your jacket that you left somewhere, make your own breakfast, make your own lunch, find your own missing library book, pack your own book bag and walk yourself the 14 miles to school!  Wouldn’t that be more fair?!

We finally arrive at the drop-off line, the girls gather their stuff.  Isabella has been quiet.  I think I got through to her.  Yelled some sense into her.

They get out of the car, Isabella looks at me through the window and says:

“No, that wouldn’t be more fair.  Bye.”

Here’s my 550th post: Tree Limb

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Due to a clerical error, I mis-reported an earlier post as my 550th post.   This is my actually It.  (And, you really, really don’t want to see my rough drafts…)

Gotta love the government:

Sunday morning. We heard a crash outside. Did you hear that? Sounded like a tree.

We poke our heads outside…

A monster tree branch fell across the street, blocking the road.

Wife: Someone will call.

Me: For once in my life, I will be that someone. (Movies will be made. I will be a Hero!)

So, I call the police station a half mile away. I explain what happened.

The dispatcher says: Let me patch you through to Street Services.

I wait a minute or so and explain the situation to that dispatcher. She says, and I am not kidding,

“Let me patch you through to Street Services.”

Then, their phone rings, and I hear the message: “Thank you for calling Street Services. Our office is currently closed. Please call back during regular business hours: Monday through Friday, 7am to 3:55pm”

3:55? Really? 3:55.

Now, I am one of those Big Government liberals you hear about (what with the health care and the roads and the schools). But, Jesus. 3:55? I thought my taxes could get us to at least 4:00.

Meanwhile, because it is Sunday, I try the Internet: the Street Services website wants me to Create an Account. (I don’t want to do that. Social Security Number. Credit Card. Mother’s Maiden Name?… No, unless you are a Nigerian Prince?)

And, “Is this a Tree Emergency. If anyone is injured, call 911.”

Hmmm. Is this an emergency?

No, it is just a 1200 pound tree branch that is blocking the road. No one was hurt, no cars crushed. Traffic is blocked, though.

“This voice mail message does not receive incoming messages.”

You’re kidding. Isn’t that the whole point of voice mail?

“Para informacíon en español, oprima el número dos.”

¡Crapo!