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| >> Book >> Family >> ID #1512801 |
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My friends, When we were young and newly hatched—also young and in love—my husband and I lived with our four young children on the Space Coast of Florida. The massive propulsion of rocket and shuttle launches from Cape Kennedy often rocked the windows and doors of our little love cottage. We were always properly respectful and impressed by the reach of mankind’s achievements. It was a point of pride to stop whatever we were doing (dishes, dinner, dancing, sleeping, fist fighting, etc.) to watch the eastern horizon—hands on hearts, tears in eyes—as the United States of America raced into the frontier of space. One deep, dark morning (about 2:00 am) I shook my husband awake to watch yet another triumph of human advancement. “Get up,” I mumbled to Sherwood, “the shuttle’s going up. We gotta’ watch.” Sherwood moaned, “The garbage is out all ready. Let me die.” He did not open his eyes. “Come on. We should watch. Night launches are amazing.” He dragged himself upright and clung to the window ledge behind our bed. We knelt, with our chins braced on the ledge, our bleary eyes fixed on a blazing light in the eastern sky. We watched. The light did not appear to move. We stared some more. The light remain fixed. We struggled to focus. The light blazed away. We waited for the light to fade into the blackness of space. It did not. We watched and watched and watched. The light stubbornly refused to move. At last, collapsing back into my pillow I said, “Honey, go back to sleep.” Sounding confused, miffed, and a little whiney Sherwood asked, “Why?” “Because for the last eight to ten minutes we’ve been staring at our next door neighbor’s bug zapper.” He went back to sleep. And I lived to worship at the altar of space exploration another day. This story pretty much sums up who we are, and how we got this way—excessive staring at bug zappers. And this is my blog, a space-age way of recording one’s thoughts, ideas, embarrassments, and foibles for the entire known world. Once upon a time, I would have made this record on papyrus, rolled it up, stuffed it into a ceramic jar, and asked to have the whole thing buried with me in my sarcophagus. I still might. Disclaimer: Some of the stuff you will read here is true. Some of it is not. Some of it is the result of wishful thinking. Some of it is the result of too much thinking, and some of it is the result of too little thinking. But all of it will be written with joy and laughter, because the alternative is despair and weeping, and isn’t there more than enough of that stuff out there? Thank you for your support, Linda (Zippity the Zapped) Zern |
| 144. Will Work for Free! How About You? | ID #746029 |
| Posted: 1-31-2012 @ 6:02 am EST | |
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I go to college. I am a student of higher education. I have a book bag from Gap and a map of my college campus, and for seventy dollars per year they let me park in the parking garage. |
| 143. College Daze: Getting Ready for Real | ID #745301 |
| Posted: 1-22-2012 @ 9:45 am EST | |
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It’s a recurring criticism of college life and academia that they don’t represent “real life.” It’s true. They don’t. The mental ballet of the Socratic method of question and answer, the delicate give and take of knowledge given and received, and the glittering fire of minds forever changed are rarely experienced outside the college classroom . . . at . . . oh say, Target. |
| 142. Goat Grief! | ID #743646 |
| Posted: 1-8-2012 @ 5:16 am EST | |
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I walked onto our back porch, caught a whiff of what surely had to be a molting skunk, and started searching for the offending stink monster. |
| 141. Book of Zern - Chapter Umpteenth | ID #742202 |
| Posted: 12-20-2011 @ 9:35 am EST Edited: 12-20-2011 @ 9:52 am EST | |
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1 In the year in which common courtesy didst die and the people didst make much of their “Angry Birds” and their “Farm-Villes” saying, “Just a minute whilst I dost harvest my pumpkins,” I didst continue the record of my people. |
| 140. Sugar Plums Dancing on my Gray Matter: A Christmas Story | ID #741190 |
| Posted: 12-6-2011 @ 12:31 pm EST | |
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Last year I did not decorate for Christmas. I don’t know; I just wasn’t feeling it. Aric was in Afghanistan. The housing market was in the local landfill. Everyone who had decided to have only one or two kids so that they could “spoil them” had succeeded. |
| 139. Weirdo Magnet | ID #741104 |
| Posted: 12-5-2011 @ 7:43 am EST | |
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Warning: Some of the observations in this essay may appear politically incorrect, boorish, or just plain snobby. My advice is to “roll with it” and take comfort in the knowledge that your judgmental attitude toward my judgmental attitude is superior in every way. |
| 138. Knees Like Knuckles | ID #740372 |
| Posted: 11-25-2011 @ 8:19 pm EST | |
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By the year 2099 (if we survive 2012, 2013, and the year that asteroid comes back with Bruce Willis riding on it) the world will be covered with old people. Some will be older than others. |
| 137. Pooping in Your Pants Never was Happiness | ID #739761 |
| Posted: 11-18-2011 @ 7:51 am EST | |
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Potty training is a real **pisser. |
| 136. College Age: Education that is Higher | ID #739167 |
| Posted: 11-10-2011 @ 12:07 pm EST | |
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I go to night school. I go to night school to pursue higher education, which is education that is higher or taller than lower, shorter education. You can tell if education is higher because the people are taller—also sleepier. Presently, I am studying Major English Writings I. These are major writings like Beowulf and The Canterbury Tales, but they are not in English. Another way to tell if higher education is higher than lower education is that the class titles will be wildly misleading. |
| 135. The Droopy Truth | ID #738217 |
| Posted: 10-31-2011 @ 7:33 am EDT | |
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