Let My People Go (or you'll get the biggest headache)!
When we were invited to a Passover Sedar this year my children needed to be reminded what it was all about (we don't get invited to a sedar too often). My wife, trying to make it enticing wanted to tell them about the search for the afikomen, the traditional game of hiding of the matzah (ostensibly to keep the children engaged during the pre-dinner service). But in doing so my loving shiksa wife declared: "Girls you'll get to hunt for the ibuprofen!"
Honor. Prestige. Wealth. These are some of the things that a Bloggie won't bring you. But that won't stop the Web from voting, because this is the annual non-profit competition that determines which blogs are the best of the best. Get ready to find out who the 2008 Weblog Awards are going to.
Who could forget this tribute on the fifth anniversary of Life Outtacontext two years ago. You say you never saw it?! (Click on image to start the movie. Quicktime 4.5 MB).
It's awards season:
You might remember we dodged a bullet a few weeks ago over the Tooth Fairy. But the big question remains: does our youngest still believe in Santa?
Last week I got a voicemail from my wife: "I just thought you should know, on the way to school today your daughter announced she no longer believes in Santa Claus." Well, I thought, it's over and it seemed so easy. For the rest of the afternoon the weight of my bureaucratic day job seemed so light.
At dinner that night I angled for the confirmation.
Thanks for the ride!
Thanksgiving: a uniquely American holiday. We're supposed to stop what we're doing long enough to remember and appreciate the good things and good people in our lives. No multitasking allowed, unless it's basting a turkey and making a pumpkin pie at the same time.
Sometimes it's hard to be thankful for the big picture items: our good health and our good families. They're just "there" as they should be, as we want them to be forever. Giving thanks for these parts of our lives
My iPhone and me at Yosemite's Half Dome. What would Samuel Morse have thought? "What hath God wrought?" John Muir would probably have agreed. My email message documenting this event: "We are blissful at this altitude."
Just returned from a little road trip with the family (more on that later). Starting in Las Vegas we drove through Yosemite, then on to the Garlic Festival in Gilroy and finally to San Fran for a wedding. Of course, this was the maiden voyage for my iPhone and I was eager to see
I've been outted. At our monthly all-staff meeting the other day, before attending to the business at hand, I was asked to stand. It was my birthday and I found myself the center of attention. Suddenly, in that way-too-bright spotlight someone asked how old I was.
Instinctively, I dodged the question with this quick retort: "Well, my children think I'm 45." The group laughed and finally, I fessed up: I was 58. I said it proudly as only a card-carrying AARP member should. A low-level gasp permeated