Jack Bog has an interesting discussion going on about some shake-ups at the Oregonian, our daily newspaper here in town. Check it out.

What are the newspapers like in your cities? Boring as ours? More boring? Do you read them, or just hand them to your kid so she can read the funnies? That’s what happens at our house. I do love the TV listings. And Chelsea Cain. She talks about her dead mother even more often than I talk about my dead father.

It’s kismet, really.

Speaking of death — (more…)

Even though Vicki Phillips has left for the Gates Foundation, we’re still stuck with the mess she’s left behind for Portland Public Schools. We have some K-8 schools; some that don’t fit the mold; Jefferson High School, my neighborhood school, still in shambles (but they can spring for astro-turf at Grant. Go, Generals! You’re right, you do deserve the best, ya idiots); they’re possibly adding on to Lincoln (hell yes, Lincoln Needs Money and More, More, More) (I’m being sarcastic, is it transmitting?), etc.

Let’s go back a few years. A long, long time ago, I didn’t have kids. And I didn’t know much about schools, like many of you. I always cared, though. So I always voted for the school funding measures, and I even volunteered at the public schools once in awhile. (They’d ask me to come in sometimes and talk with the kids about How I Became a Writer.)

At the back of my mind, always, I’m thinking, “Who’s going to be cath-ing me when I’m old? Who’s going to be working at the nursing home? Will they talk Kerouac with me?” I was the first person in my family to graduate from college. I had to fight hard to finish. I worked two or three jobs the entire time I was in school and graduated debt-free, thankyouverymuch. (My aunt brought up the number of grads in my family to two a few years ago! Yay, auntie! And my cousin graduated this spring! Go, us! That’s three college graduates. Plus one who just finished nursing school! I was raised by wolves, people, but it’s OK. I’ve learned to deal.) School is important to me, and always has been.

My Mom had a little mantra for me that she started chanting when I was three years old. Or maybe two. “First you’ll graduate from grade school, then you’ll graduate from high school, then you’ll graduate from college!” Oh, OK. And she and my Dad set aside enough money to pay for my first year, so I had to go! (See what happens when you expect things from your kids?)

We need decent, strong, free public schools in this world, especially for those students who aren’t getting a lot of encouragement or money from the homefront. Not everyone has parents who are pushing them.

I had a stepson, sort of, lo these many years ago. When my live-in boyfriend and I broke up, I kept visiting rights with his son, so I got a little glimpse into the Portland Public School system at that time. (He’s 21 now.) (more…)

My husband — you may know him as Hockey God — did a nice photo essay on his blog. You should go check it out. And yes, I did say that about the Catholic church. Because I’m sick of all my snobby friends saying, “Well, at Cathedral/Holy Cross/Madeleine School/Holy Redeemer… etc. We don’t have those kind of problems.” (Lice, sex abuse, child abuse, meth monkeys, teachers who abuse kids…) Liars! You do so. You just cover it up better. Only, not always.

And from Whoorl and Snackie’s World (“Where Everybody is Bitchy and Nobody is Getting Licked!”), today’s meme:

1. Hey baby, what’s your sign? More importantly, do you believe in astrology? Why or why not?
Cancer, on the cusp of Gemini, with Sagittarius rising. Really, I think this explains it all. Yeah, and I was born in Year of the Dragon. Wacky Girl is Virgo and Perfect, Wacky Boy is Aries and Insane, Hockey God is double Sag with Scorpio Rising or something and Trouble. Of course I believe in astrology.

2. If you were offered a million dollars to never wear lip gloss again, would you take it?
Yes, because “chapstick” is not “lip gloss.” Ditto “lipstick” is not “lip gloss.”

3. Which blogger would you like to trade lives with for just one day and why?
Nothing But Bonfires, because geez, who wouldn’t want to be Holly?

4. Do you want to have more children or have you not thought that far ahead yet?
Ha, ha, ha! You’re funny! Yeah, they’re cute until they bring home lice. Then they’re not that damn cute anymore. No, we’re done. No more kids, no more dogs, no more lice.

5. And finally, the most important question of the day: mayonnaise or Miracle Whip?
Mayo. But only on our hair.

PS — Whoorl was much more imaginative about this than I was. I’m just in a hurry. Laundry and all. Week Two of the Louse: More Cetaphil on hair; bed pillows, quilts, blankets on hot cycle in dryer for half an hour; sheets, towels and coats through laundry; entire house vacuumed again; and me, oh my! I even found time to plant cosmos, pansies and hollyhocks with the kids. (My husband is doing the vacuuming. With our new fancy purple Dyson vacuum cleaner. The man is a saint.)

“Little Skunk was glad to do that.
But then he saw another little skunk.
She was very pretty.
He gave the kiss to her.
And she gave it back.
And he gave it back.
And then Hen came along.
‘Too much kissing,’ she said.”

from “A Kiss For Little Bear”
— written by Else Holmelund Minarik & illustrated by Maurice Sendak

Everyone in my hometown of Portland, Ore., is all a-twitter because of something the kids are calling “Freak Dancing,” aka “Grinding” or “Freaking.” It supposedly leads to blindness.

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Because I just wanted to let my opinion be known… so there it is. I am expressing myself.

“I’m expressin’ with my full capabilities/
And now I’m livin’ in correctional facilities/
Cuz some don’t agree with how I do this/
I get straight/
meditate like a Buddhist/”
— NWA

Gay marriage should be legal. Wacky Mommy says yes, yeah, go for it, I support it and fully. Love, love, love.

“All you need is love/
Love is all you need/”
— The Beatles

However. The voters of Oregon, progressive and green and free-loving though we may be, passed Measure 36 a couple of years ago, stating that “only a marriage between one man and one woman shall be valid or legally recognized as a marriage.” (Here are some of the arguments against this measure.) (And “we” being “them” because you know I didn’t vote the damn thing in.)

My point: I still see tons of bumperstickers here that say ONE MAN ONE WOMAN YES ON 36 all over town and damn if I wouldn’t love to get my hands on about five or seven of them. Cuz I’d cut them up to say:

ONE WOMAN
ONE WOMAN

ONE MAN
ONE MAN

ONE WOMAN
ONE MAN

And then right next to all that I’d put a Bob Marley sticker that said:

ONE LOVE
ONE HEART
LET’S GET TOGETHER AND FEEL ALRIGHT

Happy New Year to all of you. Peace in 2007.

Loves and kisses, hogs and quiches,

WM

PS — If anyone can get some of these bumperstickers for me I would sure appreciate it.

PSS — No, I haven’t started baking or cleaning yet for the party on Monday, thanks for asking.

Thirteen Things Bosses Have Said To Me:

1. I could really use a blowjob.

2. If I was a little bit younger, I’d chase you around the block.

3. While you’re on vacation, I want you to think about all the mistakes you’ve been making at work and have a different attitude when you get back.

4. The other editors and I have talked, and we think you need to see a therapist.

5. I know I told the agency I needed you to answer the phone, but I really need you to do my books.

6. You’re working the fifteen-hour sale tonight by yourself. Hope your first day is going well!

7. You’re fired because I’m tired of hearing Susie bitch about you. (This was from blowjob guy. Do you think I blew him to keep the job? Bwaaaaaaa ha ha ha ha…)

8. If I told you that was a nice blouse, would you consider that sexual harrassment?

9. I wish I was you.

10. Can you call all my friends to get them to RSVP for my party?

11. I think after you’ve been doing data entry for awhile you’ll get a real fire in your belly for it.

12. We hired too many people so now I have to fire half of you. Sorry. Happy Thanksgiving.

13. Babe, if you married me, on our honeymoon I’d cover your whole body with bean dip and guacamole and eat it up with chips.

Happy Thursday Thirteen, everyone!

“Ah, not a good year for your clan, huh?” a friend of ours asked my sister and me toward the end of 1997. We ran into him at a party. It was the first social event I’d attended in ages, other than funerals.

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And I mean it. Unless you are my daughter or my son, don’t call me mommy.

ie — the pediatrician, “So, Mom, how have things been?”

ie — people mimicking my kids, “Mommy! Can I have…”

ie — anyone who calls me a Mommy Blogger. My bad: Yeah, it says “Mommy” right there after “Wacky,” sure ‘nuf. That is me, Being Ironic. Sense the irony? No? Yes you do. Because I said so.

Now comes Miss Zoot, fresh off a plane from BlogHer. They had no Diet Coke in the hotel for Miss Zoot. Do they not read her blog out there in San Jose? Maybe next year, Zoot.

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If you are, you’re not reading this, probably. You’re probably having mimosas for breakfast, then going for a swim. Or maybe you’re having bloody marys in the mountains, then hiking. I am here in my urban neighborhood, wondering why we’re not on vacation. Oh, money, right. There was this, this and oh, yeah, now this.

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You’re probably wondering to yourself, “Self, I wonder what the hell Wacky Mommy is cooking in that Rival Crockpot today?”

Chili with Wine, baby, and it is goooooooooooooooood.

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