I grudgingly accept your right to exist

Rosie's first boyfriend broke up with her a couple of weeks ago. Since then we've all suffered: Rose because her heart was broken; the rest of the family because we have been subjected to Justin Bieber's "Baby" over and over and over again. But there have been signs she might be coming out of her funk. Instead of silent tears pouring down her face, she's been really angry and snapping and snarling at everyone in the family. This evening she had the following conversation with her father:

Rose: Dad, it doesn't bother me as much to be around "Brick" anymore. My friend said I should talk to him and tell him that so it won't be as awkward when we have to do stuff at school together.

David: So you are ready to tell him that you are done wishing him a horrible death in a pit of fire, and you acknowledge that he has a right to exist on the planet?

Rose: Yes! Can I actually tell him that?

David: It's not my business.

Rose: (smiles)

*UPDATE* Ice Cream! We're Gonna Have Ice Cream!

Less than a week after my husband sent this pointed letter to Blood Source, we received this in the mail.

We laughed, shook our heads, and then high-fived because, hey, free ice cream, right? But then we both looked at each other and said, "Wait a minute . . . Do you think?" No, we thought. It couldn't be. But then again . . . Which has led to this online poll. After reading the above letter, do you think that:

(A) This is a sincere if pathetic conciliatory attempt to placate a faithful, but apparently really annoyed, donor by well-meaning staff who just did not get the point at all.

OR

(B) This a subtly sarcastic poke back by someone clever who thought, "You know, from the tone of his note, what I think this guy REALLY wants is a sappy hand-written note and an errand! But don't overdo it in case he's just an annoying jerk who won't get it and will complain to the CEO or something."

We're raising a con artist

(At soccer practice)

Kids: Hi, Coach David! Welcome back! How was your trip to the moon?

David: Um . . . great. Thanks for asking.

(a few weeks later)

David: Kids, I just wanted to let you know that I won't be at practice on Thursday or the game on Saturday. But your other coach will be here to take good care of you. I'll see you next week.

Soccer kids: Okay, Coach David. Are you going to the moon again?

David: No, I just got back from the moon three weeks ago, so it'll be while before I go again.

Kids: We'll miss you. Have a good trip.

(Later...)

David: Calvin, do you have any idea why those kids keep asking me me about going to the moon?

Calvin: Maybe.

David: Care to enlighten me?

Calvin: Last time you were on a business trip, my teammates asked me where you were. I said you were an astronaut and taking a trip to the moon.

David: And they bought that?

Calvin: Apparently.

The needle wasn't the only thing that was sharp today.

(guest post from my husband)

Dear BloodSource,

As a long time reasonably-regular whole blood donor, I would like to comment on the on-line rewards program:

I certainly don't donate for the gifts. But there is a nice touch about being handed a little something along with a sincere "thank you" from an engaged employee after they have poked your finger and stuck a big needle in your arm. Or getting a personal acknowledgement when you hit a "big" milestone - 5 pints, 10, 20, whatever.

Having just donated my 19th with BloodSource, I was directed to the rewards site, where I see that I get zero credit for my last however-many-donations in the last few years, but I got 200 points for this one and starting now I can get another T-shirt with just 700 more points.

Great. My donation now earns me a buck or two of credit towards eventually earning a cheap "thank you" gift, which I now have to log in and order myself. As if I needed another errand to do. It's not enough that I take an hour to donate in the first place, and have to skip the gym for a couple days after, now I have to go shop, too?

I feel like someone's not only insultingly trying to incent my donation with a ridiculously small amount of cheap crap, but is actually giving a specific value to my donation of precisely 200 points worth of said cheap crap. If you are trying to enhance the idea that my donation is worth "a lot" in the subjective sense, 200 points on the cheap-crap-scale pretty much  undermines that message. "Yes, You do save lives. Save six more and you can order a coffee mug!" If I save 60 lives, I'll be up to something nice!

Or my donation isn't worth an actual token of thanks from a person, but you'll let me take another half-hour of my time to go on line and order an ice cream certificate if I really want to. "Please, pretty please, won't you take my blood today? I REALLY need a new mouse pad, and I only have three more pints to go!!!"

So I doubt I'll be visiting the rewards site again anytime soon. Don't worry, I still strongly believe in donating blood and I am happy to do so as often as I am able. But I'm not going to go spend a bunch of my time every third donation to check in and order my own $5 thank you gift.

How about this instead: I'll pretend my donation is still worth "a lot" to you, you keep the 200 "reward points", and I'll just take an extra pack of Oreos and a 2nd bottle of water on my way out of the van.

Yours truly,

David George, A-negative

(cynicism is in my blood)

"Why me?" mother asks.

Rose: Rose is wondering what her family is doing today.

Me: Why?

Rose: Because Rose is hungry, and Rose would like to get something to eat soon.

Me: Why are you talking in the third person?

Rose: Rose is practicing for the Third Person Event.

Me: What's that?

Rose: The Third Person Event is where every member participating talks in the third person for a whole week, unless they are talking to a teacher or an adult who doesn't enjoy the wonders of third person.

Me: You do realize that Elmo is also a creature who speaks in the third person, and it makes me want to punch him in the face?

Rose: Rose will take under consideration the fact that her mother is one of the adults who has a problem with this event.

David: Rose is wise in that assessment.

Who says schooling stops during the summer?

Sabrina: What should I do, Rose?

Rose: This, this, or this.

S: No, no, and no. I don't like those options.

R: (very calmly) Fine, I'm leaving.

S: But I need your opinions and help.

R: (also calmly) No, you don't. And I'm not happy. (leaves the room)

(a short while later)

S: Rose! Come help me mash the cookie dough. I don't like getting my hands dirty.

R: Awesome! Kill the butter! Kill the butter!

S: You're not doing it right.

R: Yes, I am.

S: No, you're not. Do it this way.

R: Trust me. I've mashed many, many doughs in my life. I'm an expert.

S: No, you're doing it wrong.

R: Do it yourself then. (and walks away)

S: Come back! I don't want to do it! I hate how messy it is!

R: Guess you should have thought of that before you started criticizing me.

We Scoff at Boring

We knew we were going to be doing a lot of hiking and horseback riding on our vacation, so we invested in refillable water bottles. Knowing that there are some in our family who object to others touching their stuff, David thought it would be wise if we labeled the bottles so they would not get mixed up. He asked Calvin to do that job. Calvin said sure and went off with the water bottles and a sharpie. A while later he came back and deposited the bottles on the table with a flourish. "I'm done!" Everyone stared at the bottles in confused silence. The water bottles were labeled, all right, but not with our names. We read the names off: Edison, Donut, Toadette, Lance, Lileep, Chrysanthium, Freebob, and Srack. I looked at Calvin. "Why?" I asked. Calvin replied that he thought just putting our own names on the bottles would be boring.

We stood around in silence a few second longer, and then there was a mad rush to claim particular bottles. I said Lance was absolutely out as it brought back horrid memories of high school and the one and only time I ever went on a date with a guy named Lance. This date consisted of Lance showing me his large collection of Star Wars figurines, after which he turned to his chess board and proceeded to go over the highlights of his best games. Lance then proudly informed me that his full name was Lance Lars Lopfer III, and that when we had a son he would be Lance Lars Lopfer IV. I guess since I had been dumb enough to actually sit through his discussions of which Star Wars character was the best and why, AS WELL AS his chess lecture, he decided I was a viable candidate for marriage. Needless to say I didn't need those memories raining down on me every time I took a sip of water on this trip. I decided to go for Donut, thinking it might make me a little bit more attractive.

The bottles were divvied up, everyone seemed more or less happy with their choice and off we went. Nobody ever complained about their chosen name. In fact, when the name on Rose's water bottle rubbed completely off (she had Toadette), she grabbed a sharpie and wrote the same name down again, even though it was a prime opportunity to change it. And Calvin was right, it definitely wasn't boring as the whole vacation I heard things like, "Anybody want some Lance?" or "I had Freebob twice last night."