Two months ago, John and I installed Elfa shelving from The Container Store into one of my office closets. It was glorious. Finally, I had room for all of my file boxes, office supplies, and miscellany. Sitting at my desk this afternoon, I heard a crackling sound coming from the closet. Thinking it was one of the cats, I opened the closet door, looked around, and didn't see anything so I went back to work. Then, several minutes later, I heard the crackling noise again. I walked over to the closet and opened the door, then had a split second to realize what was about to happen: the brackets had pulled loose from the wall and all five shelves, complete with file boxes, office supplies, and miscellany, came crashing down. Fortunately, I wasn't hurt. But The Container Store got a nasty phone call from John after we unloaded all of my belongings off of the shelves and onto the floor. Stay tuned...

...something always bites you in the ass. John and I have been thinking (in a very vague, hypothetical way) about getting a second dog. We've been talking about getting another Ridgeback, so I've been looking at the available dogs on Ridgeback rescue websites. One dog in particular stood out: a lovely young female Ridgeback named Nora. She was in Tennessee, so close enough that we could drive there to pick her up, and she seemed like a great fit for our household (except, of course, for the fact that we already have four animals). Tonight I went to check again, and she was gone. It's fabulous news, of course, because it means that she found a home. But I had sort of gotten my hopes up. So, we'll keep talking about it, and going back and forth on it, and trolling websites. My mother-in-law has always said that everything happens for a reason. Now, I've always thought that particular sentiment was bunk. But maybe there's something to it.

So here it is, Thanksgiving break, and I'm sick. I think I must be the worst sick person ever. I refuse all help and I'm loathed to stay in bed. Instead, I want to take up jogging and cardio. Suddenly, it seems like it might be-- dare I say fun?-- to join the throngs of shoppers on Black Friday. Anything except stay in bed and cough. I should probably try to get some rest. But perhaps I'll plant some bulbs or take up golfing...

Poor taste, in my mind, is Heidi Fleiss opening a 60-acre brothel for women. Really poor taste is her decision to make convicted rapist Mike Tyson her "big stallion." Likewise, poor taste is anyone who tries to profit off of a tragedy. Really poor taste is O.J. Simpson's latest money-making attempt: He wrote a book and taped a TV interview in which he hypothetically details how the double-muder of his wife and her boyfriend might have happened. Both are entitled "If I Did It, Here's How It Happened." Is your stomach turning yet? Although both the book and the interview will never be made public (they've been pulled by, apparently, the only sane people involved in the deal), Simpson has already spent all the money he was given for both. I guess it really is hard out there for a pimp.

The other day, research for my dissertation project took me to what I thought was going to be an archive full of scientific papers about plant breeding. I showed up, introduced myself to the librarian, and explained my project. I think it went something like this: "I'm looking for information on nineteenth-century debates on heritability. Dr. _________ from the university told me that you guys had collections on the history of breeding, and I'm interested in looking at them." Blink, blink. The librarian stared back at me like I was from Mars. "We don't do human breeding here. We work with plants and insects." "Right, well, I'm interested in anything you might have on plant breeding." "I could let you talk to the plant pathologist...". Clearly I wasn't getting through. "No, well, if you had any collections of scientific papers or anything like that related to plant breeding or practical breeders, I'd be interested in seeing that." At that point, she led me to the computer and typed "plant breeding" into the UF Library Catalog. It quickly became clear to me that, if they did have such papers, I wasn't going to have the good fortune to look at them. More likely, though, this wasn't an "archive" in the traditional sense; it was more like a "library."

I think it's funny when people pronounce and/or use words incorrectly. I'm sitting in Starbucks, waiting for my writing group to convene, and the guy behind the counter is going on and on about how the "expresso" that they put in their drinks is the same "expresso" that they brew. It reminds me of student papers that I recently graded, in which one student wrote about the "Application" mountains and others (more than I care to say) talked extensively about how Puritan women were expected to "bare" children.

Kevin Federline: a big loser, or the biggest loser ever?

I think the name "The Weather Channel" is a bit misleading. It makes a person think that they can turn on that channel and get-- you know-- the weather. But nine times out of ten, that's not the case. You get stuck with friggin' Storm Stories or some shit. The Weather Channel has succumbed to the same fate that MTv did so many years ago. (For those too young to remember, it used to be that you could turn on MTv and watch music videos, or perhaps see music-related news. These days, you can't turn on MTv without seeing Paris Hilton exposing herself in yet another way.) So I, for one, vote that The Weather Channel change its name to, say, "The Weather-Related Channel" or "The Weather from Yesteryear Channel." And then step aside and let someone else become the 24-hour weather channel.

I think I should start a "Dog Park" section of this blog so that I can fill everyone in on the antics that go on in that unique social setting. Tonight we were at the dog park and, just like last night and so many others, we encountered The Asshole Husky. I'm pretty confident that this dog is universally despised by our cohorts at the dog park, since it seems to live for bullying other dogs. Usually, if you encounter such a dog, the owner is mortified and immediately pulls the offending dog off of the other dog. But The Asshole Husky is owned by a man who a) does not notice when his dog is being A Shithead and b) does not seem to care when he does notice. Tonight, when The Asshole Husky was glomming onto Luke like stink on shit, the owner was out in the parking lot, on his cell phone. I took the opportunity to pummel his dog with Luke's Jolly Ball. No, of course I didn't. Maybe next time...

John and I were talking to our friend Cathy the other day, and she was telling us that her partner, Rhonda, swims every morning. She gets to the pool by 6 am (I'm not even conscious at 6 am!) and swims for an hour. Cathy told us that she likes to joke that Rhonda is having an affair with "Cloreen." I laughed so hard, I think I almost passed out.

Election night is one of my all-time favorite nights. It's right up there with the Oscars and the Super Bowl. This morning, even though we don't yet know the Senate outcome, I still can't decide which was my favorite election:

- Vermont, where they elected a Socialist to the Senate

- South Dakota, where they struck down their draconian abortion ban

- Or Rhode Island, where exit polls said that 62% of the populace thought that the incumbent was doing a great job... and they voted him out of office anyway. It just goes to show that Americans are a fickle people.

Not so long ago, I blogged about my TiVo thinking that I was Mexican. Recently, I installed the latest version of iTunes and, upon opening it today, found all of the music store listings in Yen. As in, I can buy an album not for $9.99, but instead for 1500 Yen. Obviously my electronics have much more faith in my linguistic ability than do I.

I hope that I didn't indicate in a previous post that I was anti-Halloween. On the contrary, I'm all for it. But Halloween in the South has been an experience unlike any other. People here don't seem to understand the rules of Halloween engagement:

1) Kids don't always dress up in costumes. In fact, most of the time they're just in regular street clothes, holding a pillow case (or garbage sack, or grocery cart).

2) Grown men and women go trick-or-treating. Tonight, I had my share of 30+ year-olds who came to the door demanding candy. When I said to one man that he looked a little old to be trick-or-treating, he stammered, "Well..... I'm with my daughter." That's no excuse! Dude, you're 40-- go to the store and buy yourself some candy!

3) Some people don't get that if the porch light is off and no pumpkin is present, the home in question is not open for business. When John and I got back from campus tonight, he had a conference call immediately and I had to walk the dog. The outside lights were off and only one light was on in the whole house. Nevertheless, some kid came and rang the doorbell three times. Then, when an adult at the end of the driveway pointed out that nobody was home, the kid screamed, "Whaddya mean?!? The light's on!" and then wham wham wham, he proceeded to bang on the door.

Truth be told, I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't thrilled when the last of the candy trotted off down our driveway. You gotta love the South.