TRIPLE WOE

College basketball fans in Kansas (like me!) are hanging their heads this morning after yesterday's whupping. I devoted over seven hours of my valuable time watching all three teams--KU, K-State, and Wichita State--go down in blazing defeat.

First, KU basically handed the game over to Iowa State, then K-State let Oklahoma come to the home court in Manhattan and squeak by with a win. The only thing enjoyable about that game was the fact that I didn't have to listen to the simpleton "Boomer Sooner" fight song over and over and over again. If you read this blog regularly, you've heard me moan about it before. Even a band of dumb dogs could play it. At least K-State's "Wabash Cannonball" fight song has more than two words and four notes.

But the saddest loss of the day went to Wichita State--who went all the way to Des Moines, Iowa only to lose in triple overtime!! Oh, the agony!

Today is Kansas Day, our state's 151st birthday, so I'm going to have to whip up some better mojo for our home teams and hope for better outcomes later in the week, AND remember what Big Bore always says when I mope around about my favorite teams losing: "Chill out. It's only a game."

IT'S A CAT'S LIFE

Miss Critter Kitty spent most of yesterday afternoon cuddled up in our blanket basket. Not even an after-school visit from Sweet Neighbor Girl moved her from this soft spot, nor did a kind lady who stopped by with a cobalt blue bottle for our bottle tree. ("I just love your bottle tree!" Yes, there are other wackos around besides the Bores.) Critter just stayed in the basket under her blankie and couldn't be bothered. We should all be so lucky. --Here's to a weekend of contentment.

JUST DO IT, HONEY

Big Bore has accomplished so many items on my Honey Do list the past few days that I fear I may have to devote brain power today towards making up a whole new list. What a dilemma.

The absolute best thing he's done this week is build a bench for the nook next to the front porch steps. I got this idea last week during the landscaping program at the Gardening Workshop. The speaker asked us what a visitor first sees when getting out of his/her car and approaching our home's front door and, egads, at Casa de la Flaming Bore it's our trash bin on rollers!!! How attractive is that? We used to have it hidden behind the spruce tree that died last summer. What made us decide to move it to the front steps? Convenience, that's what. Well, not anymore.

So, when I got back home from the workshop I told Big Bore that come spring the garbage bin was going to be moved and it would be replaced by a bench that he was going to make me and I would adorn it with pots of plants and flowers so visitors would be impressed. We have lots of recycled wood from the house across the street that's being torn down--no excuses. And he ended up making me THE BEST bench that even has a lower shelf. Perfect! My little heart is getting so excited for March to get here so he can paint my new bench, weather treat it, adorn it with greenhouse goodies and bench art, and we can greet our guests with something other than yesterday's trash.

I wish all Honey-Do's were this much fun for Big Bore to actually do. I'm not sure he's going to be quite as enthused about tackling the latest addition to the list--mopping the kitchen floor.

Z IS FOR ZUMBA

Because my chiropracter advised that I "keep moving" and not let my arthritic back whip me into submission, I decided last week to enroll in Zumba. Never mind that I'm the oldest one in the class, the only one who's had back surgery, and I register a minus zero in the coordination department. It's full steam ahead. And I'm pleased to announce that after three sessions I feel like I've been run over by a train.

There are some benefits to this class, however. No one makes fun of me and we won't be having a public recital. As long as we are halfway moving to the music and show some semblance of life, as in breathing, the instructor is happy with our participation. Wooooooo!

I go back to see the chiropracter tomorrow. She may have to jack me up off the waiting room chair, but I am planning to Zumba my way into the examining room with a smile. I hope she doesn't mind the pungent aroma of Ben-Gay floating through her office.

RACIAL HARMONY

I've decided that the Kansas University Jayhawks have found the key to integration. This picture I came across on kusports.com, taken on Martin Luther King Day during a KU basketball game, pretty much says it all. Nothing quite like some hoops to bring everybody together. These guys rock!

A WICKEDLY BAD BOOK

I have a policy that I will read any book for the first 50 pages, and if it hasn't grabbed me by then, I will give up on it. My time is valuable. I'm not going to waste precious hours on a book I don't like. This policy isn't carried through very often--maybe just a few times a year do I wave the white flag and say, "Forgetaboutit!" Unfortunately, one of those times is brewing right now.

I checked out WICKED by Gregory Macguire because it's about "The life and times of the Wicked Witch of the West." Everyone knows I'm a fan of everything OZ, so surely this new book would be right down my yellow-brick alley. The prequel concept interested me--what had made the Wicked Witch so witchedly wicked in the first place?

Well, here's what I found out in the opening chapters: The WW, whose real name is Elphaba, was born (green) in Munchkinland to Frex, a circuit preacher who is out to combat the evil of the Clock of the Time Dragon, and Melena, who doesn't have much to do other than whine and have an affair with Turtle Heart, a goofy-speaking glass blower from Quadling. With the help of a nursemaid, Nanny, Elphaba somehow gets through early childhood by saying only one word: "horrors," although no one seems to pursue why.

When she's around two years old, Elphaba goes to Gawnette's house to play with her two children, but it's a disaster of biting and rock throwing that could have been well developed. Instead, it's mostly just Gawnette, Melena, and Nanny making small talk. On page 46 Melena says she has a "boring child," and that about sums up the first eight chapters that I read. You'd think it would be interesting, but Melena was right: BORING.

Still, I didn't want to give up yet. I actually went beyond 50 pages because I truly wanted to like this book. The next section would be about Galinda--who I think probably becomes Glinda the Good Witch. She was on a train with a biology-teaching billy goat on their way to the university. Their conversation was ho-hum. Do I really want to keep going with this? Not really. I tossed the book aside and got on the Internet to read some reviews of WICKED. Perhaps I was just being too critical and should hang in there longer.

Well, the reviews were more interesting than the book---people either loved it or hated it. There were adjectives like "enthralling, splendid, brilliant, witty," and then other descriptions like: "what a waste," "appalling," "worst book I have ever read." Not much in between.

I'm going to give WICKED ten more pages today. That will get me to page 75. If I'm not an enthralled reader by that time, then I will be like Elphaba, mutter "horrors," and move on to the next book.

OPENING A CAN OF WORMS

Seems a group of Kansas University students are altering the "National Anthem" at Jayhawks basketball games and Coach Bill Self is calling, "Foul!"

This chorus of rebels is changing the final word of the anthem, "brave," to "Chiefs"--as in the Kansas City Chiefs. And not only is Coach Self upset; hundreds of subscribers to kusports.com have joined the bandwagon. Besides believing the switch is disrespectful to our country, many are downright insulted that anyone would even dare to compare the revered Jayhawks basketball team with the (gasp!) Chiefs!

First off, the pro football team is located in Missouri, for gosh sakes! And we all know that's the home of the %$#@! Missouri Tigers. Don't any of these youngsters know about geography and history? No faithful 'Hawk fan with a lick of sense would associate Lawrence, Kansas with anything coming out of that dreadful state. If these lyric-changing punks insist on playing with words, at least get it right and go with "....home of the 'Hawks."

Next, this is a basketball game....not a football game. If you want to be in the Home of the Chiefs then get your big mouths over to the real Chiefs Stadium and watch the home team lose. Relating Allen Fieldhouse to anything closely resembling a football is blasphemy.

And while we're at it, the complainers moan, these whippersnappers should stop messing with the "Rock Chalk" chant at the end of victories by adding "Woo!!" to it. "Morons." "Idiots." "Totally lame." "How dare they tweek with tradition?" And I have to admit, more than once I've moaned back to my television: "Quit adding the stupid woo!" We old-timers don't want anyone screwing up our Rock Chalk.

Jayhawk purists can only hope that before the next home game (tomorrow) Coach Self will get on the public address system and threaten to bench all the Chiefs woo-ers. If he won't, and I sincerely doubt he will, there are 321 posters on kusports.com who would be happy to do it for him and slam dunk the offenders out the door.