Why Pasco, WA is not like London, England . . . or something like that!

One might wonder why anyone would contrast Pasco, WA to London, England in the first place. [Two or three might wonder that as well!] I mean, if you really think about it, could two places be any more different? And they say that you really shouldn't contrast things that have no similarities, as it is pointless. If you are trying to figure out the differences between balloons and oysters for example, the options are almost limitless, which makes the task pretty effing daunting. In fact, the only real similarity that I can think of off hand between balloons and oysters is that I don't plan on eating either of them. Therefore, why would anyone waste time contrasting them? You could similarly ask why anyone would waste time contrasting Pasco and London . . . well, other than as a desperate effort write blog post #3 of course!

To answer that question, I think I'll have to let you in on a little secret. You'll need to lean a bit closer to your computer screen for this one though. I don't want just anyone to become privy to such a life-changing revelation, so I'll have to whisper. Ok, ready or not, here goes . . . the secret truth is:

*****Pasco and London aren't completely different after all.*****

I know! Weird to think about, huh? At this point you are probably thinking that I'm either a) crazy, b) lying, or c) thinking that I'm a lot funnier than I really am. While you probably could argue that point a has some validity and point c is certainly true, I swear that I'm not lying. But how?!?!? How could the thriving metropolis that is London, England be ANYTHING like podunk old Pasco, WA? Well, let's take a closer look.

If you have any geographic knowledge of Europe at all--which, let's face it, leaves out about 92% of the population of America, but I'm feeling generous, so I'll assume that anyone who reads this is in that superior 8%!--you may know that London is in the southeast portion of England. Guess what--Pasco is in the southeast portion of Washington state!!!!! And the astonishing number of similarities don't end there! London is a capital city and so is Pasco--granted, London is the capital of a whole country and Pasco is only the capital of Franklin county, one county in one state of America, but still . . . ! [EDIT: I know, I know, it is really the county seat not the capital of the county, but that didn't really help me make my point, so I kind of glossed over that. However, thanks for keeping me on the straight and narrow Shelley! I did swear that I wasn't lying, so someone better help me keep my word!] Also geographically, London is famously a city built on a river . . . as is Pasco. In London's case, it is the Thames, as seen below:

Yes, I took this picture!

Pasco was built along the Columbia River--the longest and most powerful river in the west, as seen below:

Not surprisingly, I took this one too!

I mean, simply from these photos, can't you see how utterly similar Pasco and London are?!? Ha! Ok, so you might not be convinced, but I'm not out of evidence yet!

Domed buildings? Check and check! London might have a more famous domed building in St. Paul's cathedral, but Pasco does have the historic Franklin County Courthouse, which includes a large copper dome. [Check it out at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Courthouse-PascoWashington.JPG] And . . . both cities are in English speaking countries . . . ok, I'm kind of grasping at straws at this point!

To end on a strong note then, here's the kicker. The most important fact that proves London and Pasco are similar is the fact that I've lived in both cities! Why is that important, you might ask? Well, obviously when I become a famous blogger--and the quality of this post is CLEARLY going to catapult me to fame [she says sarcastically]--people will make pilgrimages to both London and Pasco to visit houses in which I lived in an effort to soak up the very air that allowed me to become such an accomplished and witty writer . . . or not!!!! ;)

Here's my house in London--19 Cannonbury Ave.

Here I am in my London bedroom during my semester abroad in college.

Ok, since I've gone through all the similarities, this is where you are probably wondering if I am EVER going to get back to the stated point of this post--wait, I had a point?!?--oh yeah, how Pasco and London are different. Unfortunately, I'm kind of tired now. It is getting pretty late, putting the pictures in this post wore me out, and I'm not sure I have enough energy to actually get into the myriad reasons why Pasco and London are not alike. Let's just say that many of the reasons are pretty obvious to any rational person, so I think you can probably figure it out on your own. However, you clearly have a computer if you are reading this, so if you're having trouble coming up with your own reasons, I'd recommend that you look it up on the internet--my sources tell me that you can find out lots of stuff there!

[Sigh. Yes, this was pretty lame. It was sort of an excuse to figure out how to post pictures. However, you never know--post #4 might just kick ass, so if you've come this far with me, don't give up yet!]

How to Be a Good Neighbor [A Rant]

So, I've been sitting here at my computer for quite some time now in the middle of a quandary and feeling the beginnings of a guilt spiral starting. I just keep looking at the blog and thinking, "Oh god!!!!! I have only one post and it was from days ago!!! I think that means I need to write another one!!!! But I don't know what to write about!!!!" [And yes, just so you know, I do think with that many exclamation points.]

I mean really how can I possibly top the absolute sheer brilliance of that first post?!? I can't think of any way to bring in Shakespeare or Jane Austen--which I'm sure will either severely disappoint or perhaps relieve my readers, I have nothing more to say about that powder blue diary and its cute padlock, except perhaps to curse it for getting me into this mess in the first place, and yet, I still feel the pressure of, having started this endeavor, needing to at least make a stab at continuing. Sigh.

So, I sit and stare and think and end up begging, "Please for the love of all that is good in this world, send me some sign--some possible topic that can take up more than five sentences!!!!!" [Yes, in addition to the exclamation points, my thoughts trend toward the melodramatic.] It gets to the point where I'm actually contemplating discussing the fluffy kitties (like the one who insists that he wants to sit on my desk and practically on my computer as I write this), when what to my wondering ears should I hear . . . ?

[ Sorry to those of you who voted for the prancing and pawing of reindeer on my roof, but that wasn't it. Santa would be an awesome sign from all that is good in the world, but unfortunately, it is totally the wrong season for it. However, I did manage to get some literary reference in here after all--whoo-hoo! Shout out to Clement Clarke Moore!!!]

I heard a rumbling in the distance, a rumbling that grew progressively louder--and probably changed in frequency due to the Doppler effect (but I won't go into the science right now). It wasn't thunder, so no lightning bolts being thrown my way from on high. Nope, it was the sound of large plastic wheels rolling furiously on asphalt. And yes, there through the window I could see them--a parade of big wheels, bicycles, and small motorized vehicles otherwise known as the neighborhood children.

My neighborhood is somewhat known for being inhabited by people who must have ALL the gadgets and goodies available. Everyone has a boat or a motor home or a couple of four-wheelers parked in the garage or, more likely, on the street, and several people have all of the above. Any given Thursday, aka garbage day, each family drags out their fifteen garbage cans and an additional pile of cardboard boxes which recently contained a brand new flatscreen TV or an even better version of the vacuum cleaner that they already owned--because when one spends all their time buying new things, they apparently have absolutely no time to even think about recycling anything. And I won't even get into the holiday decorations that go on here, but I will just say that if you have ever seen ANY inflatable holiday decoration resembling a snow globe or Frankenstein's monster, I'm pretty sure one of my neighbors owns it. How the heck I ended up in this neighborhood, I'm not sure, but let's just say that I don't exactly fit the mold!

Anyway, my point with that long rambling rant--because believe it or not, I did have a point!--is that the kids also own every possible gadget, particularly in the ever important area of childhood transportation needs. There are scooters, bikes, big wheels, trikes, wagons, and a plethora of motorized vehicles--pint sized jeeps, cars, Hummers, etc. which the children actually drive. While driving might indeed be a valuable skill for the average 15-year-old to practice, somehow I'm not seeing how applicable it is to 3-year-olds. And let me tell you, they are often not all that good at it. They crash trying to go over the curbs. They crash into each other. They crash into the drainage ditch in front of my house. I worry for their safety (not to mention my possible liability).

The worst part of the situation, however, is that they do 99% of their playing IN THE STREET, and I'm not kidding. I'm pretty sure their parents ARE actually telling them to go play in the road. In fact a couple of the parents have annoying plastic signs that they will put out in the middle of the street that say things like, "Slow! Children playing!" or "Please don't hit my children with your car!" or "Yes, I'm too dumbass to parent my children, so here they are as small moving targets for your driving pleasure!" It really makes me want to drive over them--the plastic signs, not the children.

And we aren't talking about 12-year-olds having a quick game of basketball on the corner (that's the next street over actually). No, these darling children are at the oldest probably 1st graders, but MOST of them are too young to have been inducted into the school system yet. So, I've got a bunch of 3-year-olds riding/driving, having sword fights, bouncing balls, running, and generally messing around IN THE ROAD--the road that I have to drive down to get to or from my house. I am seriously paranoid that I am going to hit one of the kids at some point. What do you say then? "I swear I'm a good neighbor, but unfortunately I appear to have killed or severely maimed your small child when he ran out into the street from between your huge boat and even huger motor home." I mean, with all the stuff they have parked out there, there's not much room to drive in the first place and then you have to keep an eye out for the littlies riding around in their own cars. It makes me drive down the street at the speed of an elderly woman who is too short to see over the steering wheel and compensates by creeping along at 2 miles per hour. Not that I want to drive like Speed Racer down my neighborhood streets, but still!

Additionally, the parents are also a part of my personal driving obstacle course. They stand around talking to each other in the street. They park their lawn chairs in the street to drink a beer and watch the kids get hit by my car. One morning I had to avoid a large metal fire pit that was in the road, and I'm not kidding about that either. Apparently I wasn't invited to the "Let's Sit in the Street and Roast Marshmallows" party the night before.

Therefore, since my neighbors haven't quite mastered the art of being good neighbors, I guess it falls on me to figure out how I can be a good neighbor to them. I'm thinking that it involves a) not killing any of their children with my car, b) trying to hold my tongue on Thursday and not give anyone a lecture on how recycling can be nice, c) not calling the cops to report the number of large vehicles parked illegally on the street [actually, I'm pretty sure someone else in the neighborhood has that one covered, since the police came this spring and knocked on the doors of the worst offenders, which helped for awhile], and d) refraining from any midnight missions with a knife to puncture the inflatable holiday decorations. I will, however, continue to give the people down the street who own a Hummer the evil eye when I drive by. Heck, I can't be a good neighbor all of the time!!!

[Whew!!! Post #2 is now officially out of the way! And I didn't even have to talk furry kitties! I'm saving those big guns for later!]

To Blog or Not to Blog?

It is the age old question first posed by historically great thinkers like Aristotle or Socrates or that Julie girl from the move Julie and Julia--should I presume to think that other people might have any interest whatsoever in reading my rambling, sometimes incoherent, and always inconsequential thoughts? That's the question that you have to ask yourself when deciding whether or not to start a blog.

In some ways a blog is like that powder blue diary that I got for my birthday back when I was 10 or so (not that this blog has a picture of a pink bear with balloons on it anywhere or a cunning little padlock with a real metal key--it would be cool if it did though!--um, the padlock, not the pink bear of course!). A blog can be a place for people to rant about their pet peeves . . . or a place to stretch those creative muscles (the gray ones under your skull) . . . or a way to document an ongoing relationship/job/project/etc. . . . or simply a stream of consciousness writing about nothing much in particular. However, the big difference between that powder blue diary and a blog (besides the shocking lack of a shiny little padlock with a working key, of course!) is that it puts all of those words out there for anyone to read.

So, you've got to ask yourself if that's a good thing. Do you want other people to know how much you a) hate your boss, b) hate your coworkers, c) wish that cute guy at the table next to you in Starbucks would get off his computer and notice you, or d) all of the above (purely hypothetically of course!). As anyone on Facebook knows, these days we tend to know WAY too much about friends, random acquaintances, and people we don't even know but someone we know does. [Do I really need to know that Roger in Cleveland just went up a level in Mafia Wars? Do I really care that Great Aunt Francis is playing Bingo in an hour? Do I even want to know that my best friend's sister in law is planning to spend the day cleansing her colon? NO!!!!] Hence, the question in the title of this post--to blog or not to blog?

I guess by the very fact that this blog exists, "we" all know how I answered that one. However, I'm pretty sure that next to no one will ever read anything that I write here, so I probably shouldn't spend so much time with these deep philosophical questions! I do have to give a shout out to Shakespeare for lending me the classic if well-worn phrase "To be or not to be" as a basis for the question in the title. It is really amazing how often we use Shakespeare in every day conversations! Read one of Will's plays sometime and you'll find all sorts of familiar phrases. However, I sometimes wonder how happy he'd be to have them used for such ridiculous purposes and twisted in so many ways--re: the title of this post. Of course, being remembered and remaining a part of popular culture for 400 years or so is nothing to sneeze at! Most likely NONE of the scads of bloggers out there will gain that renown--including (now that I've ventured into this endeavor) me.

Well, I might not do good old Will proud by any stretch of the imagination, but hopefully, I'll actually be able to find enough to say to keep this going . . . I won't scare myself or anyone else by mentioning how many, many, many pages in that powder blue diary remain blank to this day!

And to anyone who was silly enough to actually read this and might even now be grinding your teeth in rage at the gratuitous and pretty random mention of Shakespeare in this post, there is a cautionary message right at the top of the blog, so you can't say that I didn't warn you!