The Average Blogger

Nothing Important Happened Today

If I were a professional blogger, yesterday would have meant a requisite post about the events of Sept. 11 and the anniversary of that tragedy -- on who we were, who we are, what has passed since then to bring us where we are now.

If I were a professional blogger, I might have pointed out certain examples of bad behavior that were exacerbated by the fact they occurred on a day when absolutely no one who was alive seven years ago should be so bratty, so selfish, so childish, so petty, so hostile, so spoiled, so stupid.

If I were a professional blogger, I might have discussed the memorials. I might have discussed the actions that took a plane full of heroes to their death in a Pennsylvania field and prevented the deaths of hundreds or thousands more.

If I were a professional blogger, I might have pored over the theory that a terrorist could get on a plane today fully armed and might get a few shots off before a gang of similarly heroic passengers would take that guy out with whatever they had at hand -- -- at least, I like to hope this would happen. I like to think that they wouldn't wait for the air marshall to get out of the bathroom before they decided to halt the proceedings.

If I were a professional blogger, I might wonder if that would actually happen, or if we've all gone back to assuming someone else -- the guy next to us, the government, providence -- will take care of us with absolutely no movement on our own part.

If I were a professional blogger, I might draw comparisons between the can-do attitude of the people on that plane and the won't-do attitude of people "still homeless after Hurricane Katrina." And I might wonder about how Hurricane Ike will affect residents wherever it hits.

But fortunately for y'all, I'm not a professional blogger, and I just took yesterday off.

There Are Campaigns, and There Are Campaigns.

It is killing me not to write a post about the election race. I have many, many opinions, and none of them are neutral, and expressing any of them would probably get me fired. 

So let me offer up a couple of PSAs, instead:

1: Pay attention to your local and congressional races too. Do you know what congressional district you live in? Can you name your congressman? Do you know who the challengers are? If you plan to vote and can't answer yes to all three of these questions, it's time to do a little homework.  You can start here.

2: Do not be fooled by campaign ads. Y'all are smart people. Don't believe it when you hear an ad saying a candidate will make such-and-such illegal, or that he absolutely will raise spending on this or that.  Presidents can't do anything singlehandedly. They can lobby, they can cajole, they can propose, they can veto. They can't create laws, they can't amend the Constitution, and they can't just sign a check that spends taxpayer dollars without a whoooole lot of back and forth with  Congress. (See PSA 1.)

3: And now for something completely different -- News flash: Bus arrival times can be unreliable!

Day 2 of kindergarten watch was ... interesting.  I was heading to the bus stop to pick up the kid, with my arrival timed to be 5 minutes before the bus's slated arrival, and I saw C., my 5th-grade neighbor, walking toward me. "The driver said to tell you she'd drop the YP off after she finished her other rounds," she says. "I offered to walk him home, but she told me no, that YOU had to be there."

I said, "Good grief. Does she show up 10 minutes early very often?"

Bless her heart, C. answers me, "About as often as she runs 10 minutes late. My mom used to allocate an hour for sitting out there when I had to be picked up. She read a lot of books."

Maybe I will set up a folding chair.

When the bus came back around, the kid was fine. I was afraid he'd be traumatized, but the driver said no, he was a little worried but then just settled in and kept up his conversation with the other kids. I apologized and told her I'd be sure to be out there earlier, and she -- didn't say she'd try to be closer to on time. But she was relatively gracious.

On the way back to the house, I asked the YP, 'Are you mad at me?' And he said, "Oh, no. But try not to let it happen again."  Oookay.

Then we discussed his day. Apparently they spent a half-hour "learning the alphabet."
(Sigh.)
"But YP, you already know the alphabet."
"I know."
"Do the other kids know the alphabet?"
"Some of them. Not all of them. And they don't say it fast, like I can."
(I bet they don't. I bet they can't name all the presidents, either. Or the 50 states.)
"Do you read at all?"
"The teacher reads. Then she gives us books to read."
(Books with words? Or picture books?)
"And do you read those?"
"Yes, but to myself. Sometimes I read two."
"Do the other kids read their books?"
"A lot of them just look at the pictures."
"Have you read for the teacher?"
"No. She only wants to read to us. She doesn't want us to read to her."
(Grrrr.)
"What about math? Do you do any of that?"
"What is math?"
"You know. Adding. Subtracting."
"Oh. No, we just count. We don't do plus or take away."
"How high do you count?"
"Oh. To 10."
"Just to 10?"
"That's all she told us to count to."
"Could all the kids do it?"
"No."
"How high can you count?"
"I don't know. 100?"
"YP, would you rather be in a class where all the kids already know the alphabet and can count?"
"Yes. And where I can learn the elements."

Serrrrriously considering the headache and tactical maneuvers required to start lobbying for my kid to skip a grade.  Apparently the principal has to recommend it, the kid has to prove intellectual ability, and then get screened for social maladjustment. I find it hard to believe my kid -- the one who hit on the 5th grader first -- would have much trouble with any of that, with the possible exception of sitting still for the time required.

On the other hand, this might throw a wrench into the whole magnet-school-that-starts-at-first-grade thing next year.  I don't know. 

Maybe I should base my decision on the bus driver's adherence to schedule.

Wrapup

So, Thursday was the big day.  It was interesting -- lines started forming early. We took a bus over to Invesco around 1 -- 10 minutes in line, 20 minutes on the bus, and it dropped us off about as far from the stadium as where we had started, but in a different direction. Walked for 15 minutes. Then we got shuffled into a line -- the wrong line, a general rabble line, and 15 minutes into that NYAB rebelled and insisted on going back to the media tent for work.  As we were retracing our steps, I heard someone say "Media" and watched as they turned off the line into a little driveway, which was sort of funny because the woman we'd been with before who had decided to stay had suggested cutting under the tape at that exact spot and cutting through the parking lot and we thought that was a bad idea. Well, this time we did it. Got to the stadium and wandered around, took some photos and bought some gewgaws. Another 15 minutes. NYAB got a hotdog -- better at Invesco than Coor's.  Still no Dr. Pepper. Harumph.

(It's not as nice to be there as it is to see it on TV, as I hope this picture indicates.)

Then we walked back to the Pepsi Center. It took 20 minutes. The line going the other direction was  looong -- all the way back to the Pepsi Center itself.

Then we worked from the tent while we watched the Grammys -- I mean, the nomination.  There were only about 5 of us in our corner, so snark abounded.

Friday, we got in the car at 9, got to the airport around 9:30, and got to our gate at 11. The security line was crazy long, but they were on their game, because it moved really quickly.

Got home and visited with my dad and with college friends who were down to go with us Saturday to the USC game.

All in all, I am not sure I like going to conventions. They are interesting, but they bring out the absolute worst in me and everyone around me, and they remind me of everything it is that I hate about politics. The extremists, who make me extremely nervous. The sheep, who don't think and just vote a certain way so that they can spout the talking points allowing them to tout sanctimony as the new black. The game-players and the cynical. Or maybe I'm just a misanthrope in general.

I would be interested in going to both conventions at some point. To see if the general attitudes are the same at both. To see if the coverage is the same. To see if the behind-the-scenes behavior is the same. I would also like to take the YP and see what he thinks of it. But not til he's 13 or 17.  Nine is far too young for him to see his mother in quite that black a mood regarding anything other than chocolate sauce smeared on her white curtains.

It was also really nice to get home. Even though it was kind of funny to find how my father cleaned by stashing things in various corners and cubbies -- I found my iPod in the toybox and I found several board game pieces stashed in the cabinet under the TV.  Still, much better than stepping on them. A few things are still missing, but I'm sure they'll turn up. Heh.

Penultimate

Halfway in, and I think I've got the hang of this gig. I found the good food (barbecue!) and have my list of Souvenirs People Want, and, oh yeah, still working 14 hours a day. But the workload is now a known quantity, so that is not as stressful as it was Sunday.

The sad thing about it is that I really don't know much about what's actually going on around me.  I've discussed it with various family members, and the best comparison I can draw is that I am like the guy who mans the hot dog stand at the SuperBowl. You're at the event, but you don't have any idea what's actually happening except for what other people tell you as they wander in and out of your immediate area and what you can sort of hear in the background.  I read almost everything my company is publishing, but that is all after the fact and not While It Is Happening. I have no inside scoop on anything, and in fact in terms of the speeches, I am learning about those after the rest of the world because my area of the tent is this big bouncy echo chamber so I can't understand the television audio. 

I did see Michelle Obama and her kids talkin' to Daddy on the vid-screen, and told my friend, "sheesh. See, this is why no one in my family could run for office. If that were my kid doing that, I'd have him by the ear hissing at him to shut up!"

My friend said, "Actually, that might play pretty well at a GOP convention. Though less so on national TV, I guess." 

I saw Hillary Clinton in orange. I couldn't understand a word she said, and am still wondering why the entire media tent burst into wild applause at one point. Ahh, yes, the unbiased press ...

All in all, it is interesting to be here, and if I were a reporter or an editor I would be over the moon. As the production caboose on the train, I am somewhat less enthusiastic. 

Which will probably not stop me from volunteering to be at the next round of conventions four years from now.  Maybe even for both -- starting fourth grade isn't the same Big Deal that starting kindergarten is; maybe we'll bring the YP to make food runs even if it means missing school.

Mmmm, Doughnuts

Served hot!!

Food and Friends

The food situation is ... odd, but improving.

Breakfast is every day at the Holiday Inn Express.  Hard boiled eggs, cinnamon rolls (not fantastic cinnamon rolls, but pretty good -- and free!) juice, scrambled eggs of questionable quality, cereal.  Not a bad spread.

Inside the perimeter, if you don't have a hall pass, you are pretty much restricted to the hot dog stand. Corn dogs, burgers, fries -- and canned soda. No fountain. There is also a Circle K inside the perimeter where you can get convenience store food, and use a gas station bathroom.

If you DO have a hall pass, you not only get to use the indoor plumbing, you also have access to a better array of food vendors.  We skipped the "buffalo bratwurst" stand and moved on to DiGiorno pizza -- which was a horible mistake. The sauce was eh, and the crust was not cooked through, so it was basically ketchup on raw pizza dough.  Apparently if you go left off the escalator, the selection is better, with barbecue and fish and chips stands.  That figures, a left turn at the Democratic convention yields better results.  Will be trying that tonight. Or maybe we'll just walk alllllll the way around. The other item of note inside the hall are the mini doughnuts. Yummm. Will be getting more of those tonight.

Apparently Wednesday and Thursday will be catered affairs. And by "catered" I think I mean, "box lunches will be provided." But I'm not sure.

Notable Quotes:
(Speaking of food)
"I can't believe you're eating that. Your body is a temple."
"Yeah. And my taste buds are the altar, damn it."

(After cramming 10 people into a minvan built for seven, including a top editor and her son into the trunk) "Hey, just hang in there and we'll be to Nogales in 18 hours!"

(Random conventioneer on his cellphone:) "No. No! NOOO!!"
(Snarked as we walked past) "Yes. Yes, we can. We don't appreciate your negativity."

For a More Traditional View...

Here's a slideshow I contributed to for my employer. 

Yours, Mine, Ours

The convention hall:

Where I spend 12 hours a day:

The interior:

My office:

Their bathrooms:

Ours:

Life is a banquet!

Arrival

Notes on our trip out:

You know you are off to a bad start when you go to check your bag and you hear the woman in front of you being told, "Oh, you are at the wrong airport. You should have been at National ... and you were very, very close to that airport where the bus picked you up..."  The funny thing was, the woman was totally la-la-la, OK, so, where is the other airport, oh, it's too far to make my flight? So what do I do?? Personally, I would have been having a complete meltdown. She looked like this sort of thing happens to her allll the time. I've never understood people who just sort of bump along through life like a bottle in a stream.

In the security line, we were three away from going through the metal detector, when a guy whisked us out of that line, on to an elevator that took us downstairs, to another line for "diamond lane" check-through -- with seven people in front of us, one of whom didn't have his boarding pass. Yeah, that sped things up.

On the tram from the terminal to the gate we saw  Dana Bash and Richard Ben-Veniste.  Bash was on our flight. Ben-Veniste was not.

NYAB had a girl kick his seat the whole four hours. Her sister was in my ear whiiiiining the entire time about how borrrrred she was and how awwwwful it was and how she didn't get annnnnny presents EVVVVVVERRRRRR.  Ugh. I mean, I know my kid is annoying on airplanes, but at least he is happy annoying, not whiny annoying.

Our luggage got to the terminal an hour after we did.

Our rental van had to get washed before we could pick it up -- and that is a whole other story. NYAB was "volunteered" to be a van driver. Note, I did not say HE volunteered.  La.  This should be interesting.

Our hotel is very nice, though it is a half-hour from town.  Hence the need for a van. Several, in fact.

FINALLY, we got to the Rockies-Reds game.  Home team won. On the drive back to the hotel, we saw a spectacular fireworks show from the media party we had skipped.

Pix later. 

Next post ... where I will live for the next week.

No Laughing Matter

So, I've mentioned that work is sending us to the Democratic convention, right?  It's a pretty small thing in my general Real Life existence -- much less momentous than preschool graduation, or the onset of kindergarten, or the fact that some new Star Wars cartoon comes out this weekend -- but it is all-consuming in my office.

A couple days ago, we got a big packet of information about what to expect, where to go, what to do, why we can't all show up for work stoned, at least not all at the same time, blablabla.

One of the sheets in this packet was all about "Security Clearance and Identification."  At the top was a big screaming reminder that, hey, doofus, don't lose your press pass or you can't get in, and no replacements will be issued, and yes this means you, Average Blogger, you imbecilic child who leaves her keys in the refrigerator and her wallet in the bag she stowed in the basement because she thought all that was in it was cat litter and litter liners.

At the bottom there was a list of "Prohibited Items." 

The bolded material is what they said. The italic material is what we said.

Weapons Fair enough. Guess I'll leave my gun at home.
Plastic replica of weapons No worries. No kids coming with us.
Firearms Now, wouldn't you think this would be covered under "weapons"?
Knives (regardless of size) No word on whether this included plasticware.
Explosives I'm thinking this means NYAB will have to check his brain at the gate, because it is entirely possible his head will explode at some point on this junket.
Fireworks Ooookaaay?  People really bring those? Indoors?  
Toy guns Again, wouldn't this be fall under the "plastic replicas of weapons"? I guess they're eliminating the "made of wood or metal" loophole? But does this mean I could bring a metal toy knife?   
Baseballs Please note, footballs not on this list.
Umbrellas Because convention attendees are all wet anyway??
Poles and Sticks So, skiing is out.
Laser lights and Laser Pointers So, blinding people is out.
Coolers I can understand this, I guess. 
Whole fruit This one prompted a wide range of conversation. "What about cut up fruit?" What about whole vegetables?" "What about raw meat?" Our facilitator was Not. Amused.  
Containers of any type -- bottles/cans/spray containers On this one, our facilitator said that "water bottles would be allowed, but they could not have water in them at the inspection point. "Then ... wait," NYAB mused. "If there's no water in it, is it really a water bottle?"
Aerosols Roll-on only.
Mace/pepper spray Roll-on only.
Tripods for cameras (does not apply to media) I don't know if professional media, amateur photographer applies in this case. 
Sharp and/or pointed objects, razor blades, knitting needles, scissors, etc. What about pencils?
Screwdrivers So, drinking is out.
Leatherman or similar tools Aroo? 
Voice enhancement devices such as bullhorns  (does not apply to media.) Why does media get a pass? I don't know. When did bullhorns replace radio?
Noisemakers, such as airhorns, whistles, drums, unless authorized by the DNCC officials Bah. What is the fun of authorized noisemakers?  
Banners, signs or placards No doubt that DNCC-issued banners, available for a small fee inside the complex, will be permitted.
Flashlights, unless authorized by the DNCC Departments of Production or Security Come on. Really? Because I want one of those fancy halogen ones like Scully is always toting around on the X Files.
No un-opened envelopes or packages -- all items must be opened and available for inspection/screening. Aww, there goes the idea of a Congrats! You're a VP Nominee! card full of confetti.