wooden shoes and windmills

I love Dilbert. The attraction started when I was working in New Mexico at a severely dysfunctional newspaper. A co-worker and I found great comfort (and humor) in the fact that, at least once a week it seemed, Scott Adams (Dilbert creator) looked through his spyglass into our particular news room and wrote a comic strip - yes, there were that many similarities. Melissa and I started our now-reknown "Wall of Dilbert". I think it was taped to the side of Melissa's desk. So, you can see, my history with Dilbert is long and sentimental. He's a good buddy.

This particular strip landed in my inbox today:


I like it because it reminds me of working with kids - though I have met a few adults that lie outrageously like this too. Kids lie about some of the most obvious things that even though you should be scolding them you can't help but laugh.

Sister comes in holding her head and screaming that her twin sister hit her. I ask the twin, point blank, "did you hit your sister?" The accused twin, fist still clenched, without batting an eye, denies any affiliation to said incident. "I wasn't even in the same country! Honest!"

Of course she's lying. I know it. She knows it. But you gotta give a kid credit for ingenuity and on-the-feet-quick thinking - and then you have to punish.


I'm working today - which is nice - but I made the most asinine choice in footwear this morning and I'm paying for it now. Whoever invented very high heels should be killed and left in a purgatory of 13 inch high heeled shoes where they are then forced to march for all eternity. Or I should be hit of over the head for choosing to wear them. They are so tall - the tallest I've ever worn. And while the temporary height is nice (my own little glimpse of the view above 5'4"), I'm convinced it's not worth it. Plus, since I possess all the grace of a baby giraffe when I wear normal-heeled shoes, jacking my heels up a few inches doesn't help and I'm terrified of falling on my face. Honestly, it's happened before. So far today, so good, but I'm not home yet.


Though my lack of walking ability should have forewarned me, it didn't, and I also can no longer be trusted to drink gracefully out of coffee cups. I had a very messy coffee incident yesterday and henceforth I'm boycotting all ceramic-style (basically anything without a sippy-top lid) mugs. I sware the cup just jumped out of my hand, but I should've seen it coming. The mug was against me from the start. Fine mug it was, too.

Today is sunny, breezy and a little on the warm side and as I drove into work I could smell fresh grass cuttings from the lawn outside the church building.

I love days like this in California.

I've got this friend. He's a good friend. He likes to pose in wife beaters and backwards baseball caps and let out neanderthal yells about women who have more hair under their arms than they have on their heads.

I know, I know....but what can ya do?

In other news, Heather embarrassed herself the other day. What? Not surprised?

See, there's this person I'm sort've attracted to. I did this very clumsy thing, a very Heather-esque thing - right in front of said person. Suffice to say, I was mortified - and I don't embarrass easily!

Why? Why me?