Mad About Keys

Technology makes everything better. A simple car key now has the ability to not only open the door, but turn on the lights, warm up the engine and slowly reroute my life savings to its Swiss bank account. My van key looks pretty nondescript, incapable of none of that, but it’s smart, the customer service rep at the dealership assures me. When I lose it, I will not only be unable to start the vehicle, but the vehicle must be towed to the dealership and a lengthy, special secret reprogramming procedure will be undertaken by a specialized geek with pocket protectors who will attempt to unlock the sophisticated system—two minutes and a hundred bucks—for a key!!! He says that the dealer is prevented by the manufacturer to disengage the little thingydoodle in the ignition system that prevents the use of a cheap key and it’s all because somebody could steal my car. I said. “I won’t buy another car that does this,” and he suppressed a giggle and confounded me with his response, “It’s all about liability.” So, there is no more running to the hardware store to have an extra key cut. What was a three dollar wrinkle in my day, will be a three hundred dollar just fold me in half. An article in the Boston Globe assures me that it is industry wide and the FTC has thus far failed to act. California seems to be the only sane state thus far… (which in itself is frightening). They are requiring vehicle manufacturers to release key code to locksmiths by January 2008. I’ll try to lose my keys next in CA. I just had one last question, if these expensive, exclusive keys are so smart, how do they get lost?

AUCTION SIX-PACK HATS

Tis the season for freezin'. Donations all go to Summers Family Auction.

Since 90% of body heat flows out through the head, (and 47% of all statistics are made up spur of the moment,) put on a hat, cover that pate, and don a chapeau. You may even, in a fit of green enviro-frenzy, turn down the heat and wear one to bed.

A full family plethora of hats is up for auction. Six chapeaus, matching or not, baby, ski, fluffy or frilly, tiny or huge, whichever you choose. Handmade hats are hot on the slope and hip at college.

It's for a great cause... click on my comments and bid on a six-pack of hat.
http://sallyrollins.blogspot.com/2008/11/official-info.html)

I'll ship anywhere in the US for free! Ready in time for Christmas.

Family Fun Auction Basket

This basket is overflowing with promises of an evening of fun and delight such as your family has rarely experienced! It's a magic basket that promises hours (at least one) of uninterrupted peace and conviviality to be experienced by the buyer.

It includes:

One Blockbuster Gift Card (may cause some contention as a movie decision is made--good for two movies.)

Five packs of Microwave Popcorn (One for every person, no fighting!)

Candy - to teach the value of sharing (the evening would not be a spiritual wasteland)

Robin McGraw's newest book "From My Heart To Yours" (to soothe the beleagured referee)

Game: Double Six Color Dot Dominoes

Game: Rook (An obscure game that virtually no one has "already played" promising no whining on that front.)

Movies for every taste:

13 Going On 30 - Guaranteed Angst and teen drama

Pay it Forward - A tear jerker with a great message

Rocky Balboa - (You might be surprised how many have not seen this!)

March of the Penguins - The earth friendly tearjerker

The Pagemaster - A perpetual child favorite just complicated enough for adult viewing

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - for the Johnny Depp chocolate lover in us all.

And last, but not least, a big basket with a lovely bow--All sold to help in a great effort. See http://www.sallyrollins@blogspot.com for other auction details. I'll make sure you get this delivered if you live in the Tulsa area.

______________________________

Best of all, the magic of this basket assures somebody, somewhere that they are loved.

Best Wishes, Becky and the Summers Family

Summers Silent Auction

I'm posting my contributions to the Summers Family Auction. (details at http://sallyrollins.blogspot.com/2008/11/official-info.html)
This item has a great history. It's a closet organizer, seeking an organized home. I was sure, when I won it at the last auction that it would inspire me to organize the entire household. Then the voice of reason intruded. And it warned me that this just might cause me to organize the entire household. And I just can't go there!!!
This one will have to be picked up. It's too huge to ship.

Dump on Dia Day

Today is the day. It’s “Everyone Dump on Dia Day. Might as well make it National Everyone Dump on Dia Day and spread the fun. It started with the 4:45 wake-up to Witch Doctor song. Wouldn’t your day go downhill from there? Got through seminary but missed the school bus. So bright and early she was captive for twenty minutes of me on a non-stop harangue.

As her Mom, and thereby her resident social conscience, I covered a myriad of aspects, gas prices, elitist kids, entitlement, even visited Armagedon. I piled on the guilt, boys no lunches, Aidan left home alone, Ian missing his ride… and most of all dear to her heart, payment to me of cold hard cash.

I pretty much covered the gamut. So, it’s my recommendation that everyone for the rest of the day join me! You, the crossing guard for the teenagers start right in like usual. “You, blond girl, Stop Right There! It’s no longer the first day of school. You should know by now that you can’t get off there. What were you thinking. Don’t do that again!” You are unaware, of course, that her parent put her off there so you could have the opportunity to vent your spleen on her. (as further continued punishment). You can thank me later.

I’m also providing an opportunity for every teacher who spilled their coffee, is late to work, mad about daycare, angry about gas prices, the lack of hurricane relief, and the world’s social conscience, moreover, if you are frustrated at short term worthless fixes on the part of local, state and federal officials, this is the time for you to dump on Dia. It’s her day.

If you are in the mood—as the supposed last bastion of intellectual thought—to berate and deride because of lack of vision on the part of all government leaders, who are placing us firmer into a fiscal mire and deeper into financial manure, who are unable to see the benefit of higher gas prices on mass transit, fuel consumption, smaller vehicles, better roads and healthier alternatives, my daughter Dia is the one you should drop it all on.

If you would like to pile on homework for the weekend, (like four hours a night isn’t enough) today is the day. You can effectively put her home for more added insult by Mom by just adding to that busywork burden. No relief in sight ‘til Tuesday. (Sorry, but I’ll do my part to make the “Labor” in that holiday a reality).

Do what you can to demean her further by refusing her first amendment rights in Literature, but you’d better skip over the right to bear arms in AP History because she might decide to do something about that.

Today she’s PMSing, but she was desperate enough to risk heart attack and take a banned Vioxx. So I say, go right ahead and dump ‘cause she’s her mammas daughter.

And, I’m thinking at this point, she can hold her own.

Hawaii 2007

Juggling Christmas Fat and Happy 2006

December 16, 2006 at 5:50am Wishing you a Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays “She’s making a list, and checking it twice,” Oh no, she’s not. It’s a week before Christmas and all through the house everything’s still, just as still as a mouse. I get the feeling that my annual attempt to minimize the commercial Christmas is futile. This year, I’ve ignored it completely and I have an eerie foreboding that I’ve only succeeded in postponing the panic until the end. Stress seems to be a customary side-effect of Christmas and I worry that I’m only prolonging the inevitable. So, I’m sending holiday greetings… correction, I’m writing holiday greetings. If the words holiday greetings are marked out and changed to New Years Greetings, I’m sure you’ll understand. It’s probably time to get serious about reporting on the children since they are just about out of the house. Ian is fourteen and topping out at six feet. I’ve not yet become accustomed to yelling at him, neck kinked skyward. He is just as laid-back as ever and strolls around the house bellowing Christmas tunes in a bass that rattles the windows and I wonder at times if a hydrallic lowrider is rumbling by. He’s earned his double black belt in Taekwando and if I ever venture down a dark alley with him and his voice, I’ll feel so safe. My life is more sedentary since I left off being the primary driver, but the new job as family air traffic controller, is equally difficult. The eldest not only drives me nuts, but drives into nuts. How does one shatter a windshield driving under a walnut tree? Ian acts as co-pilot and reports back first-hand on the most recent hair-raising near-miss and the occasional fender-bender. Thus far, all four traffic incidents have been good learning experiences and non-insurance related, so we can’t complain. Dia. spends her every waking moment juggling. As a junior in high school she has so many balls in the air (we counted twenty the other day), that all she needs is the big red, plastic nose. It’s a daily toss-up with school, volunteering and boys, so any day now I expect her to fling the balls wildly and run away screaming to join the circus. Aidan, our little inventor has turned his attention to cub scouts and plans to pass off the entire book before the next pack meeting. We’re enjoying the good-turn daily thing and strangely enough, look forward to rejoining the pine-wood derby demographic. His passions mirror his intense focus on Ian. The two of them live for each other and war—weapons, battles and skirmishes of every kind. Any straight object is a sword and every rope, an integral part of some bludgeoning accoutrement. With all three of them in piano and choir, the cash we once flung out to entice them to practice we’re now flinging in an attempt to convince them to stop practicing—cease and desist and for heaven sake, "Leave me in peace!" I expect that in the not-too-distant years to come, my holiday letters will be themed more with regret and castigation. Dave and I are well, fat and happy and loving Tulsa. Oops, I take it back, David is not fat and now, not very happy and Tulsa … well, Tulsa is fine. We’re enjoying the capricious ambiance of a seventy-degree day today and the thirty-degree threat tomorrow. We actually had a lady-bug hatch flitting about today. Dave’s job is good, and it seems that he likes it enough to continue doing it for a while longer. We hope that you and your family are finding moments to enjoy the season and the blessings for remembering the reason for this sweet Holiday. I’m off to go somewhere and put something on a list. Terina, Dave, Dia, Ian and Aidan