Cheaper Than Therapy

Pun Intended

From the 2005 International Pun Contest (via Mike Salisbury):

1. A vulture boards an airplane, carrying two dead raccoons. The stewardess looks at him and says, "I'm sorry, sir, only one carrion allowed per passenger."

2. Two fish swim into a concrete wall. The one turns to the other and says "Dam!".

3. Two Eskimos sitting in a kayak were chilly, so they lit a fire in the craft. Unsurprisingly it sank, proving once again that you can't have your kayak and heat it too.

4. Two hydrogen atoms meet. One says "I've lost my electron." The other says "Are you sure?" The first replies "Yes, I'm positive."

5. Did you hear about the Buddhist who refused Novocain during a root canal? His goal: transcend dental medication.

6. A group of chess enthusiasts checked into a hotel and were standing in the lobby discussing their recent tournament victories. After about an hour, the manager came out of the office and asked them to disperse. "But why?" they asked, as they moved off. "Because", he said, " I can't stand chess-nuts boasting in an open foyer."

7. A woman has twins and gives them up for adoption. One of them goes to a family in Egypt and is named "Ahmal." The other goes to a family in Spain; they name him "Juan." Years later, Juan sends a picture of himself to his birth mother. Upon receiving the picture, she tells her husband that she wishes she also had a picture of Ahmal. Her husband responds, "They're twins! If you've seen Juan, you've seen Ahmal."

8. These friars were behind on their belfry payments, so they opened up a small florist shop to raise funds. Since everyone liked to buy flowers from the men of God, a rival florist across town thought the competition was unfair. He asked the good fathers to close down, but they would not. He went back and begged the friars to close. They ignored him. So, the rival florist hired Hugh MacTaggart, the roughest and most vicious thug in town to "persuade" them to close. Hugh beat up the friars and trashed their store, saying he'd be back if they didn't close up shop. Terrified, they did so, thereby proving that only Hugh, can prevent florist friars.

9. Mahatma Gandhi, as you know, walked barefoot most of the time, which produced an impressive set of calluses on his feet. He also ate very little, which made him rather frail and with his odd diet, he suffered from bad breath. This made him ...(Oh, man, this is so bad, it's good)..... A super calloused fragile mystic hexed by halitosis.

10. And finally, there was the person who sent ten different puns to friends, with the hope that at least one of the puns would make them laugh.

No pun in ten did.

Pilgrims' Progress in This Week's Laguna Beach Independent

n article I wrote about my son's fifth grade class overnight adventure on the Brig Pilgrim, a full size replica of the ship immortalized by Richard Henry Dana, Jr. in Two Years Before the Mast, a widely heralded American seafaring classic, was published in the November 26 issue of the Laguna Beach Independent. You can read it via the paper's PDF version here (under the ad for insanely expensive rentals.)

The photo at left appeared on the front page, also viewable via PDF (lower left corner.)

Top of the World Fifth Graders Set Sail for 1834 Aboard the Pilgrim

The Brig Pilgrim at the Ocean Institute in Dana Point

nticipated throughout the lower elementary school years, the overnighter on the Brig Pilgrim constitutes a rite of passage for fourth and fifth graders in Southern California. The Pilgrim is a full size replica of the ship immortalized by Richard Henry Dana, Jr. in Two Years Before the Mast, a widely heralded American seafaring classic (at least in our school district.)

Mrs. Irish’s fifth grade class descended on the dock at the Ocean Institute in Dana Point, with sleeping bags, warm clothes, a spoon, a bowl, and a cup, but no – absolutely no electronic devices, as the instructions dictated in bold and underline. Could thirty 10-year-olds survive 18 hours without their Gameboys? It remained to be seen.

Oh, what fate awaits me?

I watched as the First Mate previewed what life would be like aboard the Pilgrim. There would be no talking unless they were spoken to first. They would not take one teeny tiny step until they heard the “carry on” command. They would say “sir” and “mam” and they would jump to attention when the Captain appeared.

Fun!

First Mate Mr. Britsy addresses his crew

Jackson risked blowing me a kiss as he marched up on the deck with his crew and signed on to the ship’s log, struggling to balance his huge duffle bag. These kids aren’t used to what we call cold (i.e. temperatures below 70 degrees), so they were over-prepared with down jackets, gloves, ski caps, plus rain boots and ponchos.

Signing the ship's log

The wary sailors had been primed by older siblings or friends who warned them about mystery meat stew, two-hour watches on deck, hideous porridge in the morning, and yes, the dreaded “head” which some unlucky sailor would have to clean. With a toothbrush, no less!

That evening, I casually mentioned to my husband that perhaps we should have dinner at Cannons. “I’m really in the mood for a nice piece of fish.” I said.

“Oh, and do a little drive by to check in on the boy?” he responded. Coincidentally, Cannons is perched up on a cliff with a stunning view of the Ocean Institute and Dana Point Harbor.

“Well, we might just take a quick look as long as we’re in the neighborhood.”

It wasn’t that I had any concerns about his well-being, or that he might be uncomfortable during his two-hour watch in the middle of the night. The Pilgrim wouldn't even be leaving the dock, though there was talk that my son’s team would set off in longboats to collect hides.

No, my yearnings were the result of increasingly obvious signs that we’re on the cusp of a major developmental transition, and that one day soon, my son will pull away, and when that happens, he won’t blow me kisses or hold my hand. So I make a conscious effort to experience as many of these last vestiges of his boyhood while I still can.

Sated with blackened salmon and New York steak, we watched under the cloak of darkness while Mr. Britsy addressed the novice sailors in a light but firm French accent.

“And how many sheets of paper do we use?” he roared, hands clasped behind his back, pacing back and forth in front of his crew of fifth graders seated in neat rows on the upper deck.

“THREE, Mr. Brit-sy!” they yelled in singsong unison.

“Because what happens if you use more than three?”

“It OVERFLOWS, Mr. Brit-sy!"

“Very good, crew. And what happens if the head overflows? Someone has to clean it up with their toothbrush, right?”

“RIGHT, Mr. Brit-sy.”

I saw Jackson in the front row exchange a knowing nod with his neighbor.

To add to the authenticity of the "voyage," parents were tasked with writing a letter to their sailors circa the timeframe of Two Years Before the Mast. I would have loved to have been there when my letter (below) was read aloud to Jackson. Even if he was the only one who would “get” them, I included some of his favorite cultural and personal references: Bob, chicken, Uncle Reggie, and of course, cheese. I resisted mentioning Halo 2. That would be a bit hard to fathom in the 1830s.

(click to enlarge)

When he was dropped off the next morning, tired and hungry, he bolted to his XBox. But I managed to pump some details out of him before his game booted up.

As predicted, the mystery stew was excellent (“I ate three bowls, Mom!”), the porridge was horrible, and the watch was SO boring, (“Two hours, Mom, we had to just stand there looking out at nothing for TWO HOURS.”)

Best of all, it had lived up to its many years of hype, making it an excellent adventure of boyish proportion, one that he’ll remember forever.

As will I.

Back to School, and How Fortunate We Are

September 9th was my son’s first day of fifth grade. Although we’ve lived in Laguna Beach since 1997, he is going to what is essentially a new school for him, the public school, after seven years of preschool, elementary, and after school care at a remarkable private school that was once a monastery. Nestled in the foothills of a protected greenbelt, it’s a living, breathing fairytale of a school, truly the stuff that childhood dreams are made of. Stained glass windows adorn pint-sized classrooms crowded with old-fashioned desks and mounds of stuffed animals and wooden toys – antique furniture and sturdy, carved bookcases line the perimeters. The students' art is proudly displayed on virtually every square inch of wall space, often matted and framed.

How fortunate we are.

(Update: An edited version of this essay was published in the Laguna Beach Coastline Pilot.)

A proud moment

As usual, Jackson's Christmas program earlier this month at Anneliese's was full of spirit and song. Here, he practices a new variety of signing.