Dateline: Wednesday, Tuality Hospital, taking MH to get a colonoscopy an amazing procedure we are so grateful to have in this golden age of preventative medical care. In his dressing/waiting/prep room there was a sink and, of course, a motion-activated soap and paper towel dispensers. Which got me to thinking. 
I’m all in favor of motion-activated dispensers (and wish they were all this cute):
But I long for a more impressive, ground-breaking innovation in substance allotment. I want an emotion-activated dispenser. I want a device that intuits when my hands aren’t feeling their freshest; I want a dispenser that senses when I’m too sad or embarrassed or enervated to wave my arms in front of it…and because it cares, so will I.
I have big dreams. I am not ashamed.
* * *
Only 10 Days and I’ll Stop Mentioning It
The Indies are coming! The Indies are coming! Actually, they’re already here: Independent bookstores. And the Saturday after Thanksgiving, traditionally an important day for businesses of all kinds, is especially vital to independent bookstores, including Vintage Books in Vancouver (WA). Vintage Books, along with independent bookstores nationwide, will be celebrating Indies First Day on Saturday November 30. Indies First is the brain child of author Sherman Alexie, who urged all “book nerds” (read: authors) to be booksellers for a day and help support independent book stores. 
I’ll be at Vintage Books, sharing shifts with other authors, (hopefully) selling and signing copies of The Mighty Quinn and recommending other favorite reads. My shift is from 12 – 1 pm. Vintage books specializes in hard-to-find/out-of-print and rare books, so stop by and browse for that copy of Tattooed Mountain Women and Spoon Boxes of Daghestan you’ve been dying to find for your Russophile uncle.
Another holiday shopping opportunity comes courtesy of Scarletta Press. Scarletta, the publisher of The Mighty Quinn and a slew of other entertaining and provocative, vampire-less and Fifty-shades-of-any-color-free, fiction and nonfiction books, encourages one and all to give the gift of books this holiday season – and if you order through Scarletta’s website and you’ll receive 20% off your purchases.
* * *
One day I shall blog
exclusively in haiku
Wait for it; you’ll see.
Or, I’ll use tanka
A Japanese verse form: five
lines: the first and third
composed of five syllables,
the other lines of seven
* * *
Was Is This a Stupid World, or What?
(Another Chapter in the continuing saga)
A few weeks ago my friend received an email from her daughter P’s 1st grade teacher, about an “incident” wherein three older (2nd grade) boys pulled up their shirts in front of P, in class,  then asked her to reciprocate. P allegedly declined to do so but showed them her superhero underpants instead.
I’m fairly certain my parents did not receive a phone call or note from my 4th grade teacher regarding the isolated incident wherein many times I and my uppity female comrades purposefully showed the boys our underwear. I was old enough to “know better,” but was organizing a feminist protest (years before I understood the f-word) to prove that the sight of JC Penny cotton underpants would not cause the boys to go blooey.
That such silliness could even be an issue was due to such pathetic facts as:
* a long long time ago in a grammar school far far away, pants and/or shorts were verboten for girls, who were required to wear dresses or skirts to school.
* thus, when girls climbed up on the jungle gym or did twirls and stunts on the gymnastic bars, their undies were sometimes in view.
* thus and thus again, there were five possible ways to solve the Appalling Undie Viewing Predicament:
(1) ban girls from certain playground equipment
(2) ban boys from certain playground equipment
(3) designate separate playground equipment for boys and girls
(4) there was no fourth way
(5) yes, the most sane and/or logical solution is always the last one listed:
let girls wear play-appropriate clothing for fuck’s sake.
My protests and the resulting disciplinary actions (getting “benched” – having to sit out lunch and recess play times as punishment) were not for naught.  In the latter half of my fourth grade year the school administration released a Playground Procedures/Dress Code announcement: girls would be allowed to wear shorts, over their underpants and under their skirts or dresses, IF the shorts were worn because the girls intended to play on the jungle gym, monkey bars, etc.
I always wondered how, or if ever, the IF provision was enforced:
“Heads up, Jenny – here comes the playground supervisor and you’re wearing shorts under your skirt but you’re only playing foursquare. QUICK! Get your girly parts to the uneven parallel bars and hang upside down!”
* * *
Thanksgiving approaches, which means that all across This Great Nation of Ours ® people will soon be flipping the bird with family and friends.
This year MH has been assigned eagerly volunteered to be our Turkeymeister. He’s unsure as to how he will prepare his gourmet gobbler, and has turned to the cyber cooking world for suggestions. Internet search wise, you can’t spit  without hitting a elaborately illustrated food blog, resplendent with elegantly styled phtographs of the preparation and presentation of the ultimate holiday meal. But I quickly tire of looking at the picturesque perfection – I wonder about the castoffs, the flotsam of meals prepared. Are not the scraps and scrapings of plants sacrificed for our gustatory gratification (e.g. my simple yet most beloved autumn “side dish” – roast delicata squash) worthy of documentation?
May you and yours celebrate Thanksgiving with a delicious feast, the visual presentation of which is paparazzi-worthy,  and may the hijinks ensue.
Thanks for stopping by. Au Vendredi!
 An admittedly dodgy activity, but not much else to do while waiting for them to take my man to The Procedure.
 An illustrated book on the vanishing art of the tattoos found on women in the Islamic Russian Republic.
 Where was the teacher during all of this, you may ask? As did P’s parents, and the non-answer to that and many other questions they had about the school is why it is now P’s former school.
 Hot damn, that was fun to type.
 And I have tried.