I realized the other day that my morning paper wasn't here. Indignant, I sent the paper an email and said while I was willing to overlook this just this once, would they please credit me that day's paper and carry on. They instead gently told me that I owed them 75 bucks, and would I please pay it, they would be happy to keep delivering. I checked my records; I could have sworn I'd paid up till the end of March. I was wrong. Somewhere, family members are taking a screenshot of that line and saving it.
I've changed the paper I write for, so I'll be changing the paper I subscribe to, as well. And even though I give it a longer think every time before I re-up, I remember the things I miss without a paper copy. I've written before about bus-off-a-cliff stories. Those are the one inch little blurbs that editors use to fill up random spaces on a page. They are often, literally, bus plunge stories from places you didn't know existed. Apparently, someone somewhere even coined that phrase because it was so common. Now, I don't know if it's a for real truth like tons of serial killers having Wayne for a middle name, because that really is true; someone did check that out. I'm sure of it. Do not give your kid Wayne as a middle name because it will make him turn out killy. So I don't know if an editor just started *only* using bus plunge stories to fill up those little spaces and therefore created his own truth, or the other way around. But I would miss those little stories without a hard copy paper.
Yes, I actually think about these things.
Today I don't have a hard copy, but I was noodling around on newspaper sites that still upload the equivalent of bus plunge stories to their online sites. These are, generally speaking, papers that don't think their readership are ignoring the little bits and bobs of stories that the other papers deem not good enough for the web. I am thankful for these other newspaper sites, especially when it's raining and I'm waiting for my oldest son to get home from Ohio with a sackful of laundry and an empty gas tank.
In two unrelated stories, I read about wee animals running amok. I used to think that word was amuck. It's not. In Hawaii, there was a wee piglet running around a hotel lobby. I stole the picture.
Then, I got not two stories further into my reading, and found this wee pygmy goat story. So I stole this picture, too. They note that this is not the actual pygmy, but I didn't care. I have often ordered things off the internet or a menu that say 'may not be exactly as shown' and they have mostly been just fine. I think this little goat is as cute as the real one.
I often ponder where the cutoff point is for cute. We (and by that I mean 'me') often get all stupid around tiny things that are darling. Chicks before they chickens, kittens before they become cats, and puppies before they become shoe chewing balls of stupid. We think small is cute. So why don't we like bugs? Why is a mouse cute but a cockroach isn't? Caterpillars are furry and cute, right? Bumblebees look almost huggable, if you think about it. I've heard it's because humans respond only to things that have human features, as in eyes like our face. That's why fish are just meh, but meerkats are perfect. They are really; I have meerkats as the facesaver thing on my iPad. Ari just rolled his eyes.
I think about these things, too.
Ari came in after school and told me his shop teacher, the one who just ushered this crew of kids through their spectacular showing at the Robotics Championship, signed a permission form for another competition Ari will be in. He said, "he signed as my guardian, because I forgot to bring the paper home for you to sign." I promptly went upstairs and packed Ari a small suitcase, his toiletry kit and a granola bar. Mr. Arnold, I'll be dropping him off tomorrow. He's all yours.