Columns
Here’s a Thought: The Jersey Shore
By Taylor Mason
I wouldn’t know anything about the MTV show “Jersey Shore.” But "the shore," as we call it, is a big part of our lives. ...
Martha's Laugh Lines: "Oh, Yeah?"
By Martha Bolton
I'm a non-confrontational person. It takes me a long time to even realize when someone has been rude or hurtful to me, and even longer to address it.
Here’s a Thought: Christian Scientist Monitor
By Taylor Mason
Separation of church and state: I get it, I’m for it, I’m not even questioning it. But I don’t get the separation of science and church.
Time Out: I So Don’t Scream
By Cara Garretson
Ice cream, that quintessential summer treat loved by all. Except me. It hovers around the bottom of my Top 10 Treats list.
Here’s a Thought: Backtalk
By Taylor Mason
It takes place the middle of July every year, at a non-descript hotel in an obscure suburb of Cincinnati. It is a convention of ventriloquists.
The Raving Redhead: Sir Cajun RhythmDecember 03, 2009
By Teresa Roberts Logan
I’m writing this column late this week. I confess. I also confess that I’ve had about 8 hours sleep in three days. What up with that? I’m a polite few years past forty, and this does not sit well with me. I miss my beauty sleep. And you need every second of that stuff after a certain point in life. I’m just sayin’. I have dark circles under my eyes as a daily look, my signature look, if you will, besides the pale skin and red hair. I’m starting to look like Sivad, this TV guy I remember from my kidhood, who used to put shoeblack around his eyes, clown-white on his face, and doff his tophat as he introduced the weekly creature feature on my local station. Gosh, maybe Sivad was national! I hate to think of that. Fresh on the heels of the riveting drama of the Brady Bunch, to take the level of national creativity level so low. But, I loved watching Sivad. Pronounced “sih-VOD.” It was Davis spelled backwards, but sounding so evil. Bwah ha haha haahahaaaa. Right now I’m about to leave to have lunch with two friends, who are going to help me promote my Clean Comedy Nights. And I’m just hoping my face doesn’t end up in the soup. That would not be de rigeur. What with the splashing and all. Anyway, my point, and I do have one, is that I’m a night person. I’m not a day person. Yeah, yeah, you can consider the cause my regular depression (is that news to ANYBODY that a middle-aged woman is depressed now and then?) and my heinous level of caffeine intake, but you would be wrong. Also, I sleepwalk (get my hubby to tell you about the time I bent metal trying to open a window during one bout of this nightly activity) and I see things in the dark, most every night. Surprisingly enough, I don’t think that’s it, either. This is all about the Circadian rhythm. Which I like to pronounce “Sir Cajun” rhythm, because then I can feel a bit more ethnic. And crave jambalaya while I’m at it. This is the “natural” rhythm of humans, to be more awake to your cues, stuff like light. Blecch. I avoid light at all costs. I’m Scotch-Irish with some Cherokee, but the pallor has won out; I have pale green eyes which make me all squinty and wanna wear shades all day and night, Bono-like, but I cannot afford quadruple-focal sunglasses right now. Not that they even make those. I’m pretty much allergic to sun, and translucent. These cues which affect our inner clocks are called “Zeitgebers.” (Isn’t German so goofy? Who came up with THAT language? Makes me laugh every time.) It means, “time-givers.” They are the things which cue you to do stuff. Or, NOT. My Sir Cajun Rhythm is sorta “different.” If you want to be all mainstreamy-butt and judgmental of me, you would say it’s backwards. For me, I want to just go with it. Do the night thing. Skip the daytime completely. Who needs it? If I could convince the world to swim at night instead of day, the self-esteem levels of women on the planet would go up 97.9 percent! Yes, I want to sleep all day, and work all night. I’m energetic at night! I get a lot of stuff done at night. Often I go to bed at 2 or 3. Heck, I’d stay up ‘til 4 or 5, if I didn’t have to get up at 5:45 each day. EST, bay-bay, so yes, I’m up earlier than you are. I’m a mommy, you see. The fact that my son is fifteen, likes to skip breakfast, and really couldn’t care less if I’m up or not does NOT dissuade me from my motherly duties! Which include, among other things, letting out the dog, pouring myself a Diet Coke, and tuning in to Morning Joe, mainly to watch “News You Can’t Use.” I also like to say helpful mommy things to my teenager as he leaves for the bus, like, “Make good choices” and “Tell your art teacher hey from me!” My life is fraught with possibility and meaning. Anyway, I’m exhausted, grumpy, and getting behind the wheel of a car in about 2 minutes. Adventures may very well ensue.
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