White board for the road

The white board has on it today (my last day of work):

AND HIS FATE IS
STILL UNLEARNED

This is a line from the song M. T. A. which is actually a bit before my time. In my case, it's literally true, but what I had in mind was actually what comes before that in the song.

Did he ever return,
No he never returned
And his fate is still unlearn'd

Too subtle? Probably not for the coworker who reads and leaves anonymous comments.

Won't someone think of the children?

A recent post over at Obsidian Wings reminds me of a story from The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (the series of books, not the movie).

In the story, a race was facing an energy crisis (which we are facing also, but that's beside the point). Their solution to the problem was a fantastic piece of technology that would steal energy from themselves in the past, where, as they recalled, there was always tons of energy floating around unused. This seemed like a great idea, but it also seemed that no matter how they tried, they could never get all the energy they wanted. Finally they discovered those bastards in the future were doing the same thing to them.

When our government spends more than we pay in taxes, we are essentially passing that bill on to be paid later. It's the story above in reverse. We steal money from the future. We're sticking our children with a much larger problem than they'd otherwise face, and we really ought to know better because we are those children. That's how long this has been happening.

Will we give to our children the same problems our parents gave to us?

Bedtime story.

Whenever something inexplicable happened around the house, my daughter would say that a raccoon did it. Mommy's keys are missing? A raccoon took them. A pile of clothes are mysteriously cast from the couch to the carpet? A raccoon did it. She got this from a kid at school who had brought it from home and infected the whole class with it. Before learning that, my only explanation was that a raccoon had put the idea in her head.

Lately, the raccoon has been replaced with a leprechaun, but the leprechaun is far more sinister than the raccoon. My daughter wants to fight the leprechaun. Before bed tonight, she told me, when the leprechaun comes in her room, she will get out of bed and hit it. She'll kick it. She said she'd shoot it and put fire on it.

Daddy's wise reply: "no shooting in the house, sweetie."

A little organization.

I see that folks searching for something like "my mom died" frequently find my post titled, "My mom died." I don't know why they're searching for that, but I figured they might want more than the brief rundown of the week's events in that post, so I've updated it with a link to my Mom retrospective, which has links to many other posts that I've written since Mom's death.

Just keeping things tidy (a task that makes me wonder if my blog would be better as a wiki). Otherwise, nothing new to see here.

Wise white board.

I hope you haven't been holding your breath since my last white board post. Doesn't it get kind of sweaty after a while?

My white board now reads:

A WISE-ASS
WITHOUT WISDOM
IS JUST AN ASS
Meditate on this deeply.