How Cute Is This? Infants Cry In Accents

http://bit.ly/30WBNj

I am a Twitter addict.  If you don't know how to Tweet, check out some of those I follow.  If you like them, follow them.  If you don't, don't.  If they offend you, they prrobably offend me too, sometimes.  But sometimes they're fun.  You have to be choosy.  That's where I got this.  I'll Share some things sometimes.  I'll try to addict you from time to time.  Other times I'll just be sharey.

Getting back to the subject of today, I wonder if the lay person could tell the difference between an Italian baby's cry and that of a little Spaniard?  A Mexican from a Cuban would be tough, I'm sure, even for a native.  A southern accent?  Brooklyn?  Idahoan?  Have to have a good ear.  And too much time on your hands I'd say.

When Are We Too Tired To Win For Losing?

I lost another battle to Ali but now she is five so it's not quite so embarrassing as it was when she was four. We were waiting for Princesses on Ice to begin and the guy selling Kettle Korn was coming by yelling for sales.  "Kettle Korn", he'd blare out.

Not quite feeling my usual jolly self, still feeling remnants of the pig flu, I mindlessly echoed, "Kettle Korn."

"Chedder Corn", Ali corrected me.

"Kettle Korn", I said politely.  "It's 'Kettle Korn'"  I repeated without much will to live let alone a will to explain that I knew this because I could read the packaging and wasn't simply parroting what the idiot yelling in our ears was saying.

"Chedder Corn", she said again calmly as if she were explaining to an idiot she had been assigned to, with the added admonition to "not let things get out of hand."

I wanted to wrestle her to the ground, place my foot on her throat and tell her I could read and I knew without a doubt it was "Kettle Korn", but I was too tired.  And I do love her.  And I don't want to be arrested.  And I do want to see Princesses on Ice.    And I think  that she thinks that she can read because she's in Miss Karen's PreSchool and can recite stuff precisely because she's heard it so many times and can recognize "sight" words and thinks that we're all just faking it when we say we can read.  Who knows?

Maybe we are?  I'm too tired to argue the point.   Ali always seems to win anyway.  No one seems any the wiser.  Carl hands me a Diet Coke.  I guess I am pacified.  Ali doesn't seem to think I'm any stupider than she did before so I guess my secret is safe.  Whew.  I live to fight another day.

Ali's Fifth At Chucky Cheese

Thinking Without Thinking?

Did I tell you I liked listening to Blink?  (My hearing is terrific, don’t you think?)  

Paul Eckman’s work is mentioned in this book upon which the television series Lie to Me is loosely based.  This is the guy who “collects” facial expression details and can actually read whether or not someones is telling the truth.  

 The book tells you the “why” of the “New Coke” debacle and  talks about a guy named John Gottman who can tell within about an hour whether or not a couple or going to make it through a appreciable (maybe fifteen years?) marriage.  There was also a weird-on-and-off deal about Kenna, a musician, plus another about a really horrible killing of a man in Brooklyn by the police who didn’t understand what he was doing out on the street.   The whole deal is kind of a psychological treatise on why we react the way we do.  

Do I recommend you read (listen to) it?  Maybe.  Maybe more than maybe.  There’s probably more to it than just this book but if you like psychology, you might pursue more.  What I’m saying is that I’m a little skeptical but we could pursue it.  Couldn’t we?  

As for the joke at the first -- I’m pretty funny I think.  Don’t you?  

What Now, Brown Cow?

I suppose we could have suspected that great disappointments lie around like bombs just like we’re surprised by nifty things lying around in the mundane, but I would never have suspected An American In Paris to be one of those.  Crap.  I was a French Major, for Heaven’s sake and I love Gershwin.  Still do.  But at least give me this one.  

It was made in 1951.  I was 9.  My dad had kind of a fascination with the weird talent and craziness of Oscar Levant.  It won like six Oscars.   And I was lying abed, feverish and sick and watching educational TV!  And I hated it!  

The big ole production number towards the end was magnificent.  It went on forever and if I could have the light blue toe shoes that Leslie Caron wore, I would die happy, but lots of the dancy numbers with just Kelly when he was dancing on the piano were kinda gay, quite frankly, and the story line was pretty trite.  Yup.  I said it here.  Maybe I was hallucinating.  And know what?  I wish Leslie Caron had been taller and skinnier and prettier.  

There now.  I said it.  And you can’t make me take it back.  Hollywood has ruined me.

Family Home Evening

Famly home evening the other night Julia read "God gave me eyes" to  the girls.  It's really beat up and old because it was given to me by my grandmother when the world was new to me and she was new to being a grandmother.  I was her first grandchild and WWII had just begun.  I was, and am, so familiar with that book. It was read to me many, many times.

I was so touched to think of what Grandma Cannon would think knowing that very book, after so much time, was being read again to her great-great-granddaughters.  I loved all of them so much at that moment.

Sickness and Other Close Encounters

Well I spent a lot of hours in the emergency room a week ago Saturday because my tiny heart hurt only a little and my hands were pulsating (doctor's word)  

and my breathing was a little labored.  Big deal.   On the infamous  scale, the pain in my chest was maybe a one or a two.  That's all.  Just a little  scary.  That's all.  The woman who did my chest xray and I had a  pretty good laugh about it when I mentioned that I hadn't intended to remove my clothes even, then paused and wondered how many times that had been the thought when going to parties.  Har de har har har.  Very funny.  

A  perfectly beautiful fall day wasted and my visiting teaching calls hadn't been made either.

I had gone to the hospital all by myself in the first place because Carl had been blighted with the flu for a week and Brad was home with Julia and Sophia who had the flu.  They needed an angel to hover. 

I only wanted to go over the white card they used to have on the back of the doors in waiting rooms to see if I had symptoms sufficient to be checked out.  I guess Ali  could have come with me because she is the only one not under quarantine.   But she is four and I suspect she is akin to a monkey and would not be the best company in a hospital.  Sigh.  But they told me to undress and proceeded to test me from about 3 PM to 10:30 PM.  

My room was freezing, and in a phone dead zone.  Another part that was really  special was that this was a brand-new hospital and that the key test equipment wasn’t working and so nothing was decided!!!!!   (It is poor form to use multiple exclamation points.  In fact it is poor form to use exclamation points at all.)

I played 20 gazzillion Backgammon games and 299 Gin Rummy games on my  

iPhone until it was dangerously low on juice and put that to sleep, then just waited until they sent me packing. 

The story I might continue later if I decide to, but the short version is that about four demons converged upon me at once causing me such pain, including, probably, the pig flu.  A pox on whoever stole my particular dose of the vaccine, BTW.  

Did You Know Mormons Are People Too?

I usually am the picture of calm and annoying optimism because, hey, what could go wrong anyway?  And besides that, if I keep my breathing shallow, my pants aren’t too uncomfortable yet.  But what’s going on?  The Mormons are taking it in the neck for no apparent reason these days.  

There are times when you can get a little critical of us.  We are a little cautious of outsiders, particularly when it comes to our children.  We also flinch at salty, blasphemous and vulgar language.  It’s just built into the package.  And sometimes it seems a little thin-skinned, but be patient.  We’re actually pretty decent people.

Sometimes we get a little critical of ourselves, in fact.  Mormon Mean Time is ten minutes after the hour, for example.  You should have heard us go after flowered dresses a few years ago and and the word “freak” can really set us off.  We can be narrow and small-minded.  Work with us.  

But this is ridiculous.  The other night on Cold Case, there was a story about a serial killer from Provo, Utah who got his killing start when a girl he had a crush on undressed him and showed his garments while at a showing of the Rocky Horror Picture Show.  Not only was it really disrespectful of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but of Christ in general and further to that, the Facts Checking Department really fell down on its work.  Doesn't what hurts some of us, hurt us all.

Then yesterday there was an item published that indicated that the Mormons were behind the failure of the Maine Same Sex Initiative, but the guy in the picture was wearing a blue shirt, which the Mormon missionaries do not wear and there was only one guy, which is not how Mormon missionaries work.  

Then today on Twitter comes this: http://www.getreligion.org/?p=20859

I'm aware that this item is pro-LDS, but I'm just kind of mad that it has to even be published.  That's all.  People can express their opinions.  This is a free country.  But I think fairness is what I'm calling for here.  


Believe it or not, we want misery and placelessness for no one.  What we want is family and inclusion for everyone.  We don't want to dictate what another believes but we don't want mandates for what we believe either.  But please, don't let anyone accuse us of doing or saying things we did not do or say and do not let anyone portray us as something we are not.  And further, try to defend us when you see it might be needed and we will try to defend you when we see the see the same.  We will all be better for it.  

This Is It Might Even Be For The Cynic

If you ever liked Michael Jackson, the adult Michael Jackson, even a little, go see his movie This is It.  It's only in theatres for two total weeks so you don't have much time and I'm too lazy to check for you.  It's really good.  You didn't even have to love him.  Just like.  And maybe just one song, like "Billie Jean."

It's surprisingly cohesive, complete and not at all choppy.  There's a really good segment that has MJ as a villain in an old Chicago movie with Gilda (Rita Hayworth), Bogie (Humphrey Bogart) and Edward G. Robinson with all kindsa nifty shooting and singing and dancing.  (The names above are for the benefit of Julia, who was my date for the evening.)

Also, Thriller was redone and shown in its completeness and if you liked that before, you'll like seeing this though the whole deal with the girl in the haunted house isn't there -- just the cemetery.  But that was enough.  It was great.

There wasn't alot of fawning over him either although there was some and that was to be expected.  They talked about his perfectionism and his knowledge of music in general and of his own music.  And they showed his "hands on" approach to rehearsing, but mostly it was singing and dancing, and he really could do both.  It was a pleasure watching him do both for a couple of hours.

The rest of what he was, or might have been, doesn't even matter anymore anyway.  He was just another tremendous talent from whom sorrow took the really big toll.

To Las Vegas and Back To Normal

The two of you who have been clamoring to know, I just want to tell you that while I've been away to Las Vegas, I've been away from lots of things, but not away from the good guys.  Just from my computer -- except for the one day when we hauled my computer out of mothballs at Denny's to renew some books for Julia from the the Salt Lake County Library System.  Those folks are somewhat more precise than she is when it comes to remembering when books come due which is somewhat surprising since they have quite a few more around than she does.  My intentions were good to keep Sisal Soup going but things did fall apart along the way.  I remember being quite responsible during my trip to Branson, but since no one cared during that trip, my interest during this one took quite a beating as a result.

What I mean by that was, I was with my darling sons, Ben, Brad, my beautiful Julia, my darlings Sophia and Ali and my Eternal Companion, Carl for the first time in three years and it was wonderful.      

I could have used another couple of dozen more of you, too, but that's for another day.

A favorite Vegas moment:  a huge fat guy in a wig and bikini who accused Carl on the busy Strip of checking him out for too long.  Another favorite: the astonished look on Ali's face when she went to push the street crossing button and encountered a crazy vagrant instead.  Another:  When Ben opted to stay home and watch Sponge Bob with a sick Ali while the rest of us went to visit the Strip.  

Some celeb sightings:  Pete Rose and Jerry Lewis.

The picture above is of Sophia and Ben on our last day there.  It is a little bitter/sweet because as you might have guessed, they are in love.