And remember ... ALLLLLLL clowns are evil.

I do not now have, nor have I ever been known for having, tact. (Tim, I can hear you dammit. Stop laughing.)

Some folks have the ability to always say the right things to the right people at the right time. (I'll add that it's been my experience that having an accent of some kind will assist with this.) The person that can do this? Yeah, they're the exact opposite of me. I actually can say something perfectly kind, but will wind up apologizing for it because I'll have chosen the wrong words.

Because of the number of times I've gone to the Gulf Coast, my manager has decided that I represent "all things Mississippi". I didn't ask for this to happen and I'm VERY uncomfortable with the mantle. My only experience with the area is post-Katrina, and I'd hate for someone to judge my town after a riot, fire, landslide, etc. It'd be like … ummm … ok, it'd be like breaking out the day before your big blind-date. You'd HOPE that all the good stuff would shine through but, realistically, you'd realize that there was an elephant in the room or, in my given example, on your chin.

Anyway, here's my dilemma: A volunteer from a past volunteer work-week has arranged to be interviewed by their local newspaper in an effort to get more folks to support the Gulf. This is a good thing. Hell, this is a GREAT thing. And I'm ALLLLLL for it.

Except

having worked with this person for a solid week (and judging ONLY from that time together) I can honestly say that this person arrived with a specific notion, never saw past that notion, and left with that notion. And while their enthusiasm and heart is in the right place, I just know this person is gonna say something that's actually going to damage the trust, work, and respect-level that I've been TRYING to maintain.

Ya' know how there's always that one jerk reporter with the enormous microphone at the scene of a massive car crash? And he jams the mic into the face of a young child at the scene and barks "tell me how you're feeling right now" and as you're watching in horror, you just think "Oh, would somebody please drop a piano on this ass-clown"? I can close my eyes and actually see this person saying "Well, ya' know – they live in a crappy area anyway" or "It's not like they had that much to lose, really" or "Those that live down here should expect this sort of thing".

(Again – I have no tact, so maybe "ass-clown" isn't the word that springs to mind for you. It IS what comes to mine, but anywayyyyyy …)

So I need to tactfully ask this person to either cancel the interview, or get the questions in advance to prep them on their answers or (and this is what my manager wants me to do) be there sitting next to the person so as to prevent any "stupid answer" from happening. And I wanna be clear here – I don't care if the person being interviewed looks like a moron. Heck, I don't even care if the company comes off as looking bad. But I refuse to have ANY of the people that I've met in that region be judged so harshly. Especially by an ass-clown.

Putting myself through a little planned Missouri

September will be interesting … in a few weeks, I'll go to a state that I swore up and down I'd never EVER step foot in to participate in an event that I'm VERY unprepared for but with friends that I adore and for a goal that I firmly believe in (even if I'm not wild about the org. that I've partnered with to participate in said event). I have no specific reason to fear Missouri really … and while I've been told (over and over and over) that it's not "the South", the accent that I know as being from Missouri tells me otherwise. I have, as I've already written, a deep affection for most things Southern, actually - but, without going into details, I have a painful history with an ex-resident from St. Joseph, MO … and well it's just gonna be uncomfortable for me is all. But it is manageable. This *will* be the "stretch" experience that I have for my 39th year on this planet. Not the event, actually but the "going to Missouri" part.

And yes, I know what I'm doing for my birthday next year. I know exactly where I'll be, what I'll be wearing, what I'll be eating, what city I'll be in, what time of day I'll be doing it, and no – you cannot participate. You can come watch, if you'd like – but from a distance. And, since I believe thus far this is only being read by guys, tailored suits will be required.

A mouth only a mother could love.

In preparation for my trip to Mississippi next week, I visited my folks on my way home from work last night. I wanted to give my mom a copy of my 4th journal, as well as a copy of the articles that have appeared in the New York Times and This Old House Magazine that feature the home my group worked on in April.

My mom had just returned from the DMV, aglow in the fact that she got a 100% on her written drivers test. It's been a long time since she looked over the drivers handbook (heck, it's been a long time since I looked over the handbook) and in CA, no matter how clean your record, you can only get an automatic renewal on your license so many times before you MUST return to redo the written exam. My mom is fine with this. She's a good driver and I know it's been more than 3 decades since she was even pulled over, let alone given a ticket for anything.

(A quick aside – my mother is in her early 70s. She's about 5 foot 6 and completely white-haired, which is always well coifed. She doesn't wear makeup, but always wears lipstick. The neighborhood areas where my parents live are filled with families that are … "well-off" would be accurate here. There are NO bad parts of town. Oh, and she was driving Natasha, the gold German-engineered tank that is her every-day car.)

As she was leaving the DMV, she was in the slow lane of a well-traveled four lane road. There are signs posted that indicate the far right hand lane becomes a right-turn only lane, and there was a large brown SUV in that lane. The driver was in his late 40s and (according to my mom) didn't seem to be on his cell phone. There was no reason for my mom to believe he wasn't going to turn right, but when the light at the intersection turned green, he went straight, and merged into the space my mom would have been in, if she hadn't been paying attention. No signal, no "whoops, I'm sorry shrug", nuttin.

Still "high" from her 100% on the exam, she decided to follow him for a few blocks, with the hopes of maybe calmly pulling along side of him and pointing how what she'd done to avoid his stupidity. And her patience paid off – he pulled into a grocery parking lot after a few more blocks. So she pulled up behind him, essentially blocking him into the space and called out to him with "Excuse me, sir?"

She proceeded to calmly and rationally state something to the effect of "do you realize what you did back there, and how your huge vehicle would have caused massive damage not to just your automobile but to mine as well, if it hadn't been for MY intelligence and reactions?" The individual blanched, and responded that no, in fact, he didn't notice the signage and didn't realize what he'd done and thanked my mom not just for her good judgment but also for having enough nerve to point out what had gone down. He promised to look around more, and they parted on good terms.

As she finished telling me this, she became a little sheepish and said "I guess that it probably wasn't really very smart of me to do that – it really could have turned out very badly." And because I am my fathers' daughter … because I have a quick sense of humor … because I have no internal "editor" … I couldn't stop myself. I did a once-over at my mom standing by my side … literally scanned her from top to bottom … and said "well yeah, 'cause he was probably terrified you were gonna go all 'Grandma gangster' on his ass. Did you blast him with some Barry Manilow as you slowly drove away?"

My mother … she loves me, in SPITE of my mouth.

Next week I'll be in Biloxi. Pray for snow, or at least for temps lower than 90F.