I'm trying to get this out of my system without sounding overly biased or paranoid. I'll leave it up to those with conflicting beliefs to tell me if I succeed in making my point. Here goes.

First off, neither same-sex marriage nor same-sex civil unions are legal in the state of Minnesota in 2012. Both are already illegal and there are no initiatives on the November ballot to change that.

Yet there's a political battle brewing in Minnesota over same-sex marriage this fall. Why? Because our ballot contains an amendment to clarify in our state constitution that same-sex marriage is really, truly illegal.

Let me repeat. Same-sex marriage in Minnesota IS illegal. Already. This amendment would simply change that "no" to "Hell, no."

So who stands to gain from this amendment? A lot of lobbyists will be employed to rally around this cause. And it's a great opportunity for politicians to distract voters from real issues. (Throw out the words "gay marriage" and people tend to forget about pesky issues such as unemployment rates and balanced budgets.)

The ultimate goal of this amendment is to fire conservatives and inspire them to go to the polls this November. They may not have strong feelings about Romney, but they'll go to the polls for this issue and cast a ballot for him while they're in there. This is a hot topic that's sure to draw a lot of non-committal citizens back into the political fray.

This amendment has no legal impact; its purpose is simply to fan political flames. It's merely a manipulative ploy, but there are real people out there who will be hurt by this.

Conservative Republican MN state senator John Kriesel, who lost both legs fighting for our country, said he could not support this amendment while welcoming his fellow soldiers (some of whom are openly gay) back home to Minnesota. This amendment is hurtful, senseless, and it should not be passed.

I'm with him. The ends do NOT justify the means.

Loving a Short Life

My father died about two weeks after my last post. I've mourned his loss a lot, but I haven't been as lost in grief as I was when my mother died. It's the greatest testament to my father that I'm able to offer.

When I was 18, my father had a major heart attack. There was a history of heart problems in his family and although he survived the attack, it was clear that his heart wasn't in good condition. My parents decided they'd work until I graduated from college and retire immediately after. In defiance of all our plans, my mom was diagnosed with cancer shortly after I graduated. A few months after that, she was gone.

Up til then my parents played very traditional family roles. My mother was the child-rearer and dad was the distant bread-winner. I remember him playing pranks and teaching us card tricks, but I can't ever recall him reprimanding me for any of my various misconducts. There were no heart-to-heart talks about boys or life goals. I do remember eating boiled hot dogs whenever my mother was gone and he was in charge of supper.

After my mom passed my dad had to learn to cook. During his "single years" when we'd come to visit, he'd bustle around the kitchen checking boiling stews and washing potatoes during breaks from our card game. I remembering smothering a few grins as he'd proudly bring a casserole or meatloaf to the dinner table.

Dad lived almost 30 years after his first heart attack. For at least half of those years, doctors warned us grimly that his heart was in dire condition and he could go at any time. With that in mind, my father lived and loved well. Every day was a tremendous gift to celebrate, and my father did so.

Eventually he remarried and became a grandfather not only to my children, but the children of his 6 step-children. Dad was so proud of all his kids and with his large extended family, there was a lot of news to share when we talked each week. I sometimes pondered the irony of our extended phone conversations in comparison to our brief exchanges when I lived in his home.

My father became extremely involved in the lives of all his grandchildren. He loved the story about the missing vase I found in pieces, hidden in the sunroom. He laughed heartily at the strange charges that appeared on our phone bill when my toddler starting playing 'telephone.' He drove four hours to attend the ceremony when my daughter won a contest. He was so proud when my oldest graduated from high school.

Finally this year, dad's heart gave out. Months later, I still find myself reaching for the phone to call him. At the same time my kids still have music lessons, carpools, and confirmation classes to attend. Meals still have to be cooked and work still has to be done. In Dad's eyes, these daily trials were the golden years of life and he made it clear that we should enjoy these tasks - not resent them as we go about grieving. Whether we have one year left or 30, life is too short.

Dad, I'm doing my best. Even as your opinions make it easier, they make me miss you more. Each day IS a treasure, and that outlook is the greatest lesson you taught me. I love you.

Coping with Grief

My dad's heart is failing, but I'm not going to see him this weekend.

My oldest daughter is flying back to college tomorrow and I'm supposed to teach Sunday School the day after. I drove ten hours to see dad last weekend and I was exhausted all this past week.

It sounds like a logical decision to stay home, but my heart is in my throat.

I know the clock is ticking and I may not have another chance to see him. On the other hand, he may linger for weeks. What's the right thing to do? I know no one will second-guess my decision except me, but I'm still scared. I don't want any regrets.

If anyone has any stories about a similar ordeal and their choices, I'd love to hear them.

Ode to GPS

I love my GPS. I'm convinced the divorce rate is falling because couples no longer argue on long and stressful trips about where to turn off the road. Let the GPS be wrong, not your spouse!

When the kids wail "How much LONGER???" I blame the GPS for putting them thru another 23 minutes of driving torture. I tell them, "But maybe I can get it down to 22." Suddenly the kids are cheering for me to outsmart the GPS and no longer whining.

At the same time, I find myself ignoring it quite often. GPS technology is not 100% reliable. If I'm travelling a familiar road that I KNOW is under construction or bound to be heavily trafficked at this time of day, I'll ignore the GPS instructions and laugh merrily as it says "Recalculating".

Last summer we were taking our kids to a "surprise destination". The kids were speculating on why we were driving amid cornfields in Iowa when suddenly, the GPS shouted "Turn Left here to go to Field of Dreams" and our surprise was ruined. It's never mentioned a destination by name before or ever since. My guess is that there really IS some artificial intelligence behind that logic, and it gets peeved with the way I use it shamelessly.

I'm convinced a bit of a devil rests in each GPS system. Makes me like 'em even better.

Letting Go

It's a summer full of regrets so far. I regret that I haven't had more time to post comments on my blog. (I'm finally understanding the attraction of brief Twitter postings -- much less pressure to write something deep and thoughtful!)

I regret mostly that my eldest is leaving for college and my family will never be the same. That sounds so dramatic, but it's true on some level. A child is leaving the nest. We'll have extra space in the car and less food on the table. We'll have tuition bills up the whazoo. And I'll worry constantly about that girl.

It's hard to let go, dammit.

When I left for college, I couldn't wait to fly the coop. You'd think that memory would make it easy for me to be gracious about my own daughter leaving. At the same time, we're talking about different people, a different era, and a different situation. Funny how I'm more nervous about my daughter heading out into the big world than I was when it was myself. Guess that's what makes me a mom.

Regardless of all my worries and poignant reminiscing, I AM letting go. Because it's time. Because I love her too much to ever hold her back. Guess that's what makes me a mom.

Good-bye, my daughter. Fly high and shine.

Registrar problems with Melbourne IT

Over this past weekend I moved two of my clients from an older web server at Verio to a new ViaVerio plan. The upgrade required changes to their nameserver records. These records are managed through my reseller account at Verio, but the registrar itself is Melbourne IT.

On Thursday morning I had a frantic call from one of the upgraded customers at 6:30 AM -- website and email were down. Everything looked good on my end so I called Verio who insisted that I'd changed the nameserver record info again. My next upgraded customer then called... same problem.

I have dozens of clients, but these were the only two affected. I reset the nameserver records for both and changed all their passwords, but the nameserver records mysteriously changed again a few hours later. At this point my Verio account manager told me flat out that the problem was with Melbourne IT, but he didn't know any more than that. I spent the rest of the day manually clicking the Update button on the nameserver record page for these clients every 20 minutes or so, to make sure no one could overwrite their access again.

I got an email from Verio this morning that simply said the problem was on the registrar's end, and it thanked me for my help in tracking down the problem. Excuse me? My clients had their domain records re-routed and they're thanking me? I need a lot more explanation than this -- does anyone know what went wrong???

I recently had a 15-year-old ask me, "will I ever use the stuff I'm taught in high school?" Just as an FYI, here's the answer I gave.

I’m the mom of a h.s. senior and I gotta admit that I wondered about the point was as she struggled to memorize the differences between a monarchy and an oligarchy. There just can’t be many practical applications for students in that!

On the other hand, I stumbled into a great, challenging job that required a lot of math. I even went out and bought a high school math book to figure out the equations we needed.

I remember visiting Europe and sneaking a touch of the Rosetta Stone (wanted to call my old high school teacher then and there). My language classes helped me remember key phrases in other languages as I traveled. I was grateful for my English lit classes whenever people I wanted to impress dropped references to “the Scarlet Letter” or debated whether Huck Finn or Tom Sawyer had painted the fence.

Most of all, I learned social skills when dealing with authority figures and peers. I learned to sift through facts and decide which ones were the important ones that I’d need to remember. I learned to prioritize and organize… all valuable life skills.

In retrospect I only have two complaints about our education system: 1) Students feel like they’re competing against each other. Kids are jealous of the smarter students, the better athletes, etc. In real life cooperation will take you farther than competition. You’ll can go far beyond your means if you surround yourself with people more talented than you. 2) Most student elections are popularity contests. That’s the voting strategy that people take into the real world, and it’s wrong. I once worked for a CEO who demanded excellence and kicked you to the curb if you didn’t meet expectations. None of us enjoyed spending time with this boss, but we all worked hard and the company was very successful. If that’s the hallmark of a successful manager, why are we taught to vote for our favorite drinking buddies in the polls?

Potential Scam Victim, Know Thyself

Are you a potential victim of a scam? Here are some traits you'll see in the typical victim of an online scam.

1. I AM A PARENT.
The best way to keep viruses and malicious keystroke-tracking software off your computer is to keep your KIDS off the computer. Yeah, the reality is probably that you'd have better lock locking them out of the bathroom than off the computer. That's why we installed a firewall in our home, complete with regular, automatic anti-virus updates. Yes, it's a hassle and not cheap. However we enjoy the convenience of online banking from this same computer, so we NEED it to be secure. The inconvenience of setting up a good security system palls compared to the inconvenience of having our financial data stolen.

2. I READ UNSOLICITED EMAIL.
Experts believe that 99% of all email is spam. The time and manpower spent filtering this stuff is ridiculous. According to the law of supply and demand, there would be a smaller supply of junk email if everyone refused to read unsolicited messages. So keep a list of who has your email address, and be suspicious of email from anyone who's not on that list.

3. I AM HAVING FINANCIAL PROBLEMS.
If you're worried about keeping your checking account solvent and you get an urgent email that your account has been locked, it's only natural to panic. But stop and think for a moment... does your bank actually HAVE your email address? Before you take any actions suggested in the email, call first and verify this isn't a fake message.
Conversely, easy money sounds more appealing when you're short on cash. Any unsolicited email that promises easy money is almost certainly a scam. No matter how hard up you are, responding will only cause more heartache for you in the end.

4. I USE THE SAME PASSWORD FOR EVERYTHING.
As passwords get more complicated, it's more and more tempting to use the same password everywhere. Don't! Instead, set up an Excel spreadsheet to track all your passwords and password-protect that one document. (If you don't have Excel, download a copy of Password Corral or some other free, legitimate software.)
Then, when asked to enter a password, use the Copy & Paste feature on your keyboard rather than typing in all the letters manually. If your kids unintentionally downloaded a keystroke-tracking system onto your computer, you can foil it with a simply copy & paste keystroke.

5. I BELIEVE EVERYTHING I READ ON THE INTERNET.
Carpenters are taught to measure twice, cut once. With so many supposed "facts" flying through cyberspace, we have to take similar safeguards before we accept anything as the truth.
By the time I publish this article, a newer keystroke-tracking system may already be out there that defeats my favorite cut & paste strategy. So be suspicious of everything you read on the internet and all emails you receive.
Any time that I doubt a piece of information, I Google it and see if it's suggested elsewhere, how recent the articles were that mention this fact, and if the same wording is used in all the stories. It helps me establish a framework for the accuracy of the claim.

I feel sorry for the people who are too paranoid to enjoy using the internet. I feel even worse for those who don't stop to question the emails and facts they receive via the internet. There's got to be a happy medium out there somewhere... here's hoping all of us can find our balance!

Friends and Gardens

My mom passed away from cancer almost 20 years ago. She loved to garden, and had rows and rows of canned goods in our basement. She also loved talking on the phone, and her dearest phone confidente still sends me Christmas cards each year and asks about me.

I did not inherit my mom's love of the telephone. I did, however, inherit her other passions. Today my arms are raw with scratches from picking raspberries. But oh, the jelly I'll make!

I got the raspberry plants just a few years ago from a neighbor. She had a huge garden full of raspberries and once she learned that I canned, she made a deal: each season she picked the berries and I made the jelly, and we both enjoyed the results.

She eventually moved away but in the weeks before, she urged me to dig up her raspberry plants and bring them to my garden. I wasn't optimistic that anything would survive, but she kept prodding me. In the end I moved eight plants. Only half survived that first year, but they've doubled in number each year since.

The original raspberry garden was quickly pulled down by the new neighbors, as my friend had evidently feared. When I run into her now, she always asks about "her" raspberries.

In a way, my garden is the child of her beloved friend who's since passed on. She spent hours in her garden and now that it's gone, she's glad to know our raspberry tradition continues. My neighbor and my mom's best friend feel consoled in similar ways.

God bless friends and gardens, and all the people who watch over them.

Evidently, it's politically incorrect to be a boy

My son joined a travelling baseball team for this summer. So far, we've spent over $500 so our 9-year-old son can play. Millions of kids across third world countries play this game with sticks and rocks, but we've managed to turn it into a pasttime for elite rich kids. Congratulations, America.

And yet, my son is having a blast. My husband didn't get to play as a child, so he's determined to give his son the opportunity he didn't have. How can I complain?

It's sort of like Boy Scouts. My husband (a very liberal guy) is now the troop leader, and he works hard to make the troop meetings more accommodating for young boys with special needs. As a result, my son has become a better friend to a disabled boy. That's great on a local level, but I KNOW the national organization has very discriminatory policies towards homosexuals. I love what the group is doing on a local level, but I can NOT support the organization as a whole.

With my disapproval of the way our society handles sports and scouting, I'm condemning a huge portion of my son's childhood. How can a mother do that? My current plan of action is to let things stand as they are and explain my concerns someday when he's more able to understand.

His dad is a great guy, so I'm convinced my son will get there eventually as well. In the meantime, I'll suffer through the politically incorrect tribulation of boys having fun...

Just the "Facts"?

My preschool daughter came home from daycare one day singing a song about the colors in Spanish. When she sang that "Roh-Joe" means red, I told her that it was actually pronounced "Roh-Hoe". She refused to believe me. I pointed out that I minored in Spanish in college and I'd even spent time in Spain. Despite my street cred, she went on singing "Roh-Joe" at the top of her lungs.

In this day and age, having the facts simply isn't enough to make people believe you. Leonard Pitts of the Miami Herald recently posted a commentary about this same subject. As proof, he pointed to the people who refuse to believe that President Obama is a practicing Christian who was born in Hawaii.

I agree with Pitts that it's frustrating when you're not believed, but I'm firmly entrenched in the camp of the overly cautious.

I wouldn't trust any "fact" from Rush Limbaugh, so how can I criticize those who question Leonard Pitts? Trusting someone's declaration that "this is a fact" is like leaving the house unlocked. It's probably safe but if something goes wrong then people see you as a fool, not a victim.

Trust is NOT to be given lightly these days. It's another innocence stolen by those who wrap lies in authentic-looking packages.

The sad part is that this means people are free to choose what "facts" they believe. The same daughter who refused to believe me when I said "Roh-Hoe" was red? I once told her that she had left and right socks, and if you got them mixed up then you couldn't dance. For months afterward she'd get up in the morning, put on her socks and do a quick happy dance to make sure her socks were on the right feet.

Little did I know at the time, but that's the future of our society.

See Pitts' story.

Pet Names

Someone was talking about pet names, and I told them how we used to make up names for each other that were so obscene we could only say the initials in public. I'd wait for the right moment to whisper "FOFC" in a friend's ear -- the goal being to make them break out in laughter at the most inappropriate time.

They didn't get it at all. I guess you had to be there.

They asked for the best and worst pet names I'd ever heard. I voted for "Precious" as long as it was said in a creepy, long drawn-out hiss. In both categories.

They didn't get it. I had to explain that love and laughter go hand in hand, and pet names are great examples of this. "Precious" is awful but at the same time it makes me laugh hysterically. I'm sure the first person to be called "baby cakes" felt the same way.

They sort of understood that, but I doubt that anyone went home and called their baby-cakes "precious". My talents are clearly unappreciated.

A Hero in My Eyes

I was at a City Council meeting in December and the city gave commendations to citizens who had pulled a victim from a hotel hot tub and administered CPR until the medics arrived. They were unable to revive the victim, and a commendation was also given to the minister who drove the man's wife and family across the state and back to their home.

Those are definitely kind and thoughtful actions. But in my eyes, they're not the actions of a true hero.

A true hero is the person with the guts to walk up to a stranger in a hot tub and say, "Excuse me, sir? You're not looking so good. You need to get out of there NOW."

My hero is the cranky neighbor lady who's always watching the street and yelling at the kids who play there. Thanks to her, I'll never have to administer CPR to a child who's been run down in front of my house.

My husband was at a bank one time when it was robbed. He was standing in the corner of an office and he slowly stepped behind the door. He didn't want to risk moving into the doorway and startling the robber. If the robber were to walk into the room and threaten the people inside, however, my husband was in a strategic position.

The robber didn't walk into the room and afterwards my husband joked about how he had "hid" during the big robbery. Needless to say, he didn't get any special commendations for bravery.

Our greatest heroes aren't the ones who get medals and commendations, though. Instead they're frequently described with words like loudmouth, spoilsport, and busybody.

I'd like to think that their heroic traits are recognized by those around them. These are the people we turn to when we need a trusted confidente to tell us what is right and what is wrong in our lives. They're opinionated, and they speak the unvarnished truth plainly and straight up.

I tip my hat to all the unsung heroes out there with the courage to step in and avert the small, daily crises that generate the city commendations. You have my gratitude.

Why get a checking account?

My 13-year-old has no interest in opening a checking account now that she's old enough. I'm forcing her to do it, though. It's my gift to her.

Why does Elizabeth need a checking account? It's safer than stashing her money in the bedroom under her dolphin poster. The money you put in a bank is insured up to $100,000. It earns interest there, too. Bank one, dolphin zero.

Money in a checking account is traceable. Your bank can tell your current balance without ruffling through a wad of bills. Your spending is also traced and appears on your statement, so you know where your money goes. It makes budgeting easier. If your purse gets stolen, you can cancel the debit card or close the account. If you leave your purse in the public bathroom (like your sister), your cash will be gone but your checking funds will remain secure.

There are advantages to that account as you grow, too. A checking account is your first step to building a credit history. The longer it's been open and active without overdrafts, the easier you'll find it to get that first credit card. Most companies like to pay employees using direct deposit to their checking account. And many landlords won't rent to someone without a checking account -- they're not a good risk.

Elizabeth, you spend half your school time on the computer anyway. You'll love the ability to log into your account online and see your transaction balance and spending history. Even more, you'll like seeing those interest payments.

So let's get that account opened for you this month. Happy shopping!

Holidays, with Kids

What is life like when you're entering the holidays with two teenage daughters and a 9-year-old son? Allow me to fill you in.

First off, the two daughters wanted to go shopping at 5:30 am on Black Friday. They're not big shoppers, but there's a socialization/tradition aspect to getting up early that morning and visiting the stores. The two girls are always amazed at the people out and about at 6 am on Black Friday, too. It's fun people-watching.

Of course, by 9 am the "fun" has worn off. One of my daughters wanted me to take her to see "New Moon" as soon as the theater opened and the other spent two hours at the bookstore. By 1 pm when we left the mall, my two girls were satisfied and I was exhausted.

Then there's the 9-year-old son. This past Thanksgiving holiday was spent nagging him. His trading cards are spread all over my living room floor, sorted in piles across the room. And all his underwear is missing. His dad made him clean his room the other weekend, and I strongly suspect he threw all his dirty clothes into his closet along with everything else on the floor in his room. Two weeks later he's scratching his head and asking me what happened to all his socks, underclothes, and pajamas.

Children LIVE to challenge their parents' sanity.

Morality Tales

I read an old “Herotica” book from the library last week. The editor of the book is (was?) a feminist who had protests staged against her when she did a presentation at the U of M. She encouraged women to read pornography and claimed we’d never have true equality until women owned up to their sexuality. Her famous quote was “I’ve yet to have a man come up to me after class and admit he didn’t know where his penis was, much less how to use it.”

Fifteen years doesn’t seem like that much time, but most of the “pornographic” acts in this book are pretty mainstream in Harlequin Blaze books today and dismissed as mere "Chick Lit". It’s interesting to see how quickly the population’s view on morality can change when someone puts a different marketing spin on the topic. Makes you question how deeply held those “morals” really are – or how powerful the advertising industry is.

Vacation Horror Stories

We're back from our vacation.

We had a thunderstorm and the power went out right as we were preparing to leave. Couldn't print our tickets... missed our flight out... the final touch was the streaker (more of a naked stroller, actually) sauntering through the airport baggage claim.

Everyone has vacation horror stories, though. The real test is how you react. My family passed the quiz, I guess. My 13-year-old whipped out her cell phone and started texting her friends "naked dude here!" (At least she didn't take photos.) For the rest of the trip whenever the kids got bored my husband would shout "Look, another naked guy!" We got a LOT of strange looks last week, but the spirit never went out of our vacation.

In Philadelphia, I saw a Hispanic family proudly posing in front of the Liberty Bell holding a newspaper that read, "Senate confirms Sonia Sotomayor to the Supreme Court". We found out our tour of Independence Hall was cancelled because the First Family was taking the tour instead. I felt like we were truly standing in the footsteps of history. Then my 9-year-old turned to me and asked, "Where, exactly, was 'National Treasure' filmed?" Great moments in history, through my son's eyes...

We went on a ghost tour and I told my family afterwards about the ghost tour director who died in a horrific tour trolley accident but returns to lead the tours when the living directors don't arrive in time... if our director had been more creepy looking and less college prep, I'm sure our kids would never have gotten to sleep that night!

Fun fact: Cape Code is far fuller of Italians than New York these days. Little Italy is about one block in NYC, while even the McDonalds near the Cape sold cannoli. I was so excited to see an old guy in Boston who looked like Fred's dad, only to later realize that ALL the old guys in Boston looked like Fred's dad. Gotta love that Italian schnozzola.

Anyway, our trip through Philadelphia, NYC, and Boston was a blast. I'm sure the lack of stress and time spent studying routes on a map made our vacation that much more pleasurable. We wanted to bless our GPS, but we were afraid the holy water would harm it. I recommend our trip, with a special shout out to the Lucerne Hotel in NYC. The people there defined class!

Car Ride Topics

It's spring. Last Thursday our kids had two ball games scheduled along with a parent meeting for a musical and a jazz band concert. Oh, one also stayed at the school until 6 and I had a church meeting that started at 7. It's the season of FRUSTRATION!!!

There's an upside to all the driving, though. Here's a list of high points from the car rides as I chauffer my kids around town these days:

WHAT TO PLAY ON THE RADIO: I wish I could have recorded Elizabeth talking about her tweener music. ("Lady Gaga is '08 and your music is too late, Mom. NOBODY knows who Tina Turner and that old Neil Young guy are except you!") Later she started in on U2. ("You WHO??") I think I'm supposed to be offended that she's criticizing my tastes, but I still break into giggles everytime I think about it.

MOTHER'S DAY GIFTS: My husband noticed that Victoria's Secret was having a Mother's Day Sale, and asked me who would buy lingerie for Mother's Day. I explained that some men want to show their wives that they still find them attractive as a woman, and not "just" a mother. I got a blank look in return. And my daughters LAUGH!

ON MEN WHO SHOP: My husband took my daughters out for Mother's Day shopping the night before the big day, and they loved it. They're little blood-suckers who want to watch all the misery as my husband frantically tries to select a last-minute gift. ("You bought me a CHEESE SLICER? Don't you remember? I put one in YOUR Christmas stocking with the wine opener four months ago.") Then there are the bowling balls and nylons of Christmas past... I warn my daughters that they'll get their just desserts when they have husbands of their own someday. (That'll NEVER happen! They both swear.)

ON HEALTH: My son noticed that I was wearing a tank top the other day. My arms quickly lost their tone once I refused to carry him everywhere. In fact, he poked my upper arm and pronounced, "Like pudding." I reminded my older daughter that good drivers like me always keep both hands on the wheel, no matter how great the temptation to smack your passengers...

Next Thursday... Two ball games, one awards banquet and one recital. Can't wait for the carpool!

Picking Your Battles

I teach Junior Great Books at our elementary school and my last class had four boys who got pretty rowdy at times. I'd say "Boooooys" in a threatening tone and glare at them until they settled down.

It took me awhile to get used to the whole "it's okay to show your anger to your class" philosophy. Now I realize that kids need to see their role models losing their temper in a controlled manner. I don't hold a child's misbehavior against them, and they don't hold it against me if I rebuke them by name. They quiet down and we move on. It's standard operating procedure in a classroom.

A couple weeks ago my middle-school daughter came home with a video that she'd taped with her cell phone on the bus ride home that day. It had snowed, and the roads weren't too great. The kids in the back of the bus were shouting and screaming, making the bus driver even more edgy. She finally lost it and started screaming at the kids.

I talked with my daughter about whether the bus driver's actions were appropriate (no) and if there were extenuating circumstances (yes). I asked my daughter if she felt threatened by the diatribe (no) and in the end, I didn't complain to the school.

I'm sure some would say I made the wrong decision. My daughter didn't think it was necessary, though, and I let her make the call. She did think that someone might file a complaint, though, which is why she turned on her cell phone and taped everything. Smart kid.

It's March; It's Minnesota

Last weekend it was in the mid-forties, temp-wise. On Monday it started raining and the temps started dropping. It started snowing on Tuesday and the wind kicked up that night.

On Tuesday night the wind howled. That's not unusual in March. It's Minnesota. By Wednesday morning the temps were about 15 degrees below zero. The winds died down on Thursday and by Monday we're supposed to hit 60 degrees.

That's a 75-degree change in temperature. In some months, and in some places, this would be fodder for months of speculation. Not so here, though. It's March and it's Minnesota. These things happen.

That's just one reason March is my favorite month of the year. On Wednesday morning I had to drive kid #2 to band practice. A full moon hung low on the horizon, huge and bright. All the moisture in the air lent a glowing aura to the orb and with the winds howling, it felt surreal... especially as I turned off the main road onto my block. You could still see that eerie moon peeking between the homes of the suburban landscape, and it was one freaky juxtaposition!

I doubt many other people noticed or commented on it, though. It's March, and it's Minnesota. These things just happen here, don'cha know?