Dick Cavett says it just right.

Follow this link to read his marvelous essay, "The Wild Wordsmith of Wasilla."

http://cavett.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/11/14/the-wild-wordsmith-of-wasilla/?em

On the recent election . . .

A conversation with my friend Jim-the-Republican. He says, "I guess you're happy with the results of the election."

"Are you kidding?" I ask. "My hangover lasted for two days!"

"What a coincidence," replies Jim. "So did mine."

Sweet Caroline!

We lucked into Neil Diamond tickets on Tuesday night. We had a SUITE at Toyota Center and the old guy can ROCK! It was lots of fun. Here he is, taken from my cell phone. Thanks, Fred, for thinking of "mom and dad" when someone gave you the entire suite!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Well that was a fast month!

What's going on with anyone? I just go to work, come home, eat, and go to bed and then get up the next day and go to work, etc., etc. My sister Carole comes to town next week and she has a booth at Quilt Market! We're pretty excited about THAT! Here is one of her small quilt designs; she sells the patterns to quilt shops across the country, and we are hoping to find her some national distributors at Quilt Market. The weekend after Market is the International Quilt Festival, which pours more $$ into the Houston economy than the Offshore Technology Conference. (Chuck didn't believe that statistic until I pointed out that hookers don't usually report their income to the Chamber of Commerce.)

Anyhow, Carole will be a guest star at someone else's booth during the festival, pointing to her patterns and looking creative. I am so proud of her.

Normal is just a setting on the dryer

I saw that in a catalog. Thought it was funny. Reminds me of us these days. But we are ok and glad to be home. Power is on, internet and wireless all working, phone ok. No cable, though. All we get is Channel 13. I was so desperate on Wednesday that I tried watching "Wife Swap." Total dreck.

Today I'm at work, and most of my colleagues have their power back. Numerous have roof and tree damage and are trading ideas and resources for roofers and people with power saws.

Anna and Lucy are still without power, as are Terrell and Linda. We've invited A&L to sleep over tonight, along with Mylo the dog who wears his ears inside out. Casey loves him.

yIKEs!!! We've been through a hurricane!

Hi, everybody. Wente-McCabes are ok. Heck, we're more than ok; we're in San Antonio with Tommy and Cheryl! We rode out the very annoying storm with no issues except lost power. But sitting in the open garage, sweating and listening to AM radio, was getting boring. So we packed the dog, the laundry, the contents of the refrigerator and freezer, and a few bottles of wine, and got the flock out of town.

The traffic coming FROM the west on Sunday afternoon was stunning. Also sitting still from about 80 miles west of the city. Glad we weren't going that way. My colleagues at Exterran are reporting in little by little, but we will stay here at Tom and Cheryl's very pretty and very comfortable home for at least another day.

We haven't heard whether we have power or not yet. We would prefer to go home AFTER the electricity comes back on and at least ONE of the Starbucks's up on the corner is open. No roughing it for us.

Anyway, we are fine, without damage or even much stress. We were very lucky.

Sit. Stay. Laugh.

Ok. Funny story. I CONTINUE to encourage Chuck to adopt the short rope leash for dog-walking that I’m having so much luck with. Casey stays close beside me at all times and cannot pull at all. He doesn’t go anywhere and doesn’t even try, because the leash is around his chest, just behind his front legs. It’s GREAT.

But Chuck will NOT use it. He likes the long retractable leash for walking the dog, even though Casey is all over the place, and always trying to stay at the very end of the leash, as far away as he can get. The fact that the leash is retractable means also that it’s EXTENDABLE. By 16 feet.

DOGS ARE PROGRAMMED TO PULL AGAINST SOMETHING AROUND THEIR NECKS. IT’S INSTINCT. I LOOKED IT UP.

So yesterday morning, or maybe Saturday, we walked over to Starbuck’s with the newspaper. I took the shortcut, ordered our drinks, and grabbed an outdoor table, while Casey made his rounds. Anyhow, they arrive and Chuck gets settled, putting Casey’s leash’s plastic housing under his leg as he settles into his wrought-iron chair. Casey immediately notices the two standard black poodles a few tables away and leaps out on his leash to get to them. They start snarling, Chuck lurches forward to grab Casey, his hot coffee tips into his lap, and the slender nylon leash cuts two places on the back of his leg, just behind his knee. And the poodle owner mutters something about poorly trained dogs while Chuck shrieks f-words in front of a whole lot of residents of 77019.

Last night he showed me, for the third time, the slices on his leg. I said, “I know how to not have that happen again,” and he said shut up.

You wanna see something cute?

My big brother and me, circa 1960.

Call for Entries: Pat Needs a New Tagline!

I think we'll all agree that "Pat Gets It Off Her Chest" remains a fine name for this blog. However, the tagline needs revising. I am now so OVER breast cancer, literally and otherwise. Tired of it. Fini. Gone. Done.

SO, any ideas? I'm open to suggestions. Please post your best--or worst--idea. You know how I am. And, thanks in advance.

From my brother-in-law John Norlander

Would you forget your roots?

My friend Ann says, "After the untimely passing of Tim Russert, many tributes honored him as a man who never forgot his roots, never forgot where he came from." She goes on to say, having recently seen a photograph of the people she went to high school with, that she WISHES she could forget where she came from! And then [this is so Ann-like], she worries that Karl Rove might consider her elitist.

We of course consider Karl Rove a child molester, but that's beside the point.

Here's today's survey: have you ever been to your high school reunion? If yes, more than one? Would you go again? Take the poll! You may also answer in an essay. We love stories about people who act up at high school reunions, don't we, Ann?

Finally got our exciting vacation photos online!

By popular demand . . .

http://www.kodakgallery.com/I.jsp?c=yhzfa9a.8oy2d54a&x=0&h=1&y=tpdzde&localeid=en_US

La Machine!

Last night McCabe and I were whirlwinds in the kitchen. We made a rice salad and the shrimp basil pasta salad in just under two hours. The rice salad involves LOTS of chopping and the second one starts with "a basket full of fresh basil leaves." Also lots of chopping and prep. Book club is tonight at my house and I am READY. Except of course I haven't read the book.

Well you can't do everything.

My best guacamole

In case you needed the recipe, here's the one I made at Rita's.

Pat's Guacamole

2 ripe avocados
1/4 c. white onion, chopped fine
1/4 c. your favorite salsa (I have to say there's nothing wrong with Pace's)
1 T. lemon or lime juice
1/3 c. finely chopped tomato
1/2 c. fresh cilantro, chopped
Salt

All measurements are approximate, but these quantities will get you started.

Cut the avocados in half longways. Twist the halves apart; one side will have the seed in it. Whack your heavy knife blade into the seed and twist. It will come out. Scoop out the insides with a spoon.

Put the avocado into a serving bowl with the onion, salsa and lime juice. Mash with a fork until it's as smooth as you want it, but don't puree, that's gross. Stir in the tomato and cilantro. Taste for salt and add some. You'll need it.

Serve.

Summer in Minnesota

It's about 65 degrees this morning, sunny and breezy. Eat your hearts out, Texans. THIS is summer. We've had a great time at the Norlanders in Rochester. Casey and his cousin Shiloh bang around like junior high school boys on the wrestling team. Shiloh is half again as big as Casey; we thought Casey was a big dog until we saw Shiloh!

Yesterday we drove over to a river town, Stillwater, on the St. Croix, then met John and Niki for dinner in MSP. They both look marvelous and John has made incredible strides since the catastrophic illness that almost claimed him a year ago. He's a strong guy with an impressive support group, including an adorable wife who is obviously his rock.

Pics to come on kodak gallery asap.

We ARE in Kansas!

Whoo! We are having fun!! This cathedral is across the street from Ken and Pam's house. We are in Pfeifer, Kansas.

Speaking of Comedy Sources, I'm Back at MD Anderson

HI! I'm in Stir this morning. I've had blood pulled, a bone density exam, and am now waiting for Dr. Fighter Pilot. I have commandeered a big table for four, two outlets, and three chairs while I wait.

I had breakfast downstairs and listened to some old folks in the cafeteria talk about the state of education and young people and television and the country and the middle class. Interestingly, they say EXACTLY the same things that my grandfather complained about in 1966. Kids don't speak the King's English, nor are they even taught any history these days; television is crude; and us regular people will not survive.

I listened with great joy as they talked about how the country simply cannot survive unless people can learn to speak properly and quit using nouns as verbs. Then one of them brought up Barak Obama and made some garbled statement about he had mistakenly used "I" as a pronoun. [Which I think is, um, ok.]

You will all be pleased that I did not approach them--as I first thought I might--and lead them down a garden path of agreeing that our leaders' ability to use language effectively is key for the survival of the nation. They already seemed to be very close to that anyway. Then, I could have sprung on them: "So who did you vote for in 2000 and 2004?"

Now that I'm settled in here in the Breast Center (what an exciting name!), I must recount a phone conversation I just overheard. I wasn't eavesdropping this time; the woman is standing right beside me and talking toward me. I heard one side of it only, but at this phrase I tuned in:

Did you catch any more mice?

Really? Another one?

Yes, that's five this week. Well, put some more peanut butter on the trap and set it back out.

[I was thinking, Jeebus, Lady, where do you live? I do NOT want to come to your house!]

Later in the conversation . . .

Would you put some food and milk in the barn?

Yes, I think that cat has had another litter of kittens.

No, I don't know what we're going to do with her.

[I know! I know! Ask me! Quit feeding the damn cat!]

I do feel better that she lives in the country and has therefore caught five mice this week, but here's another idea. Perhaps if she put the cat to work on the mouse problem, the little hoor would have less time to get into trouble. Just a thought. [Nod to Mom and Aunt Rosalyn for the "hoor" usage; one of my faves.]

Hand Me That Piano! George Carlin 1937 - 2008

I was just reading the article about George Carlin in the New York Times. He died yesterday of heart failure. He had gotten really cranky over the years and had rather lost his sense of humor, in my opinion, but gosh, was anyone ever funnier?

The article said he battled an addiction to red wine and vicodin. I have friends who would consider that more of an hors d'oeuvre than an addiction.

Rest in peace, George Carlin. Your comedy informed my own.

An Open Letter to the Kid Who Shouted at Me Last Night on W. Gray

You know who you are: the passenger in a small car that whizzed by me as Casey and I took our evening stroll in front of the Post Office. You yelled, "Which dog is walking which dog?" Remember? Ah, yes. I thought you would.

First of all, congratulations on trying to be entertaining. More than anyone, I believe in adding more laughter and merriment to the world. And while your contribution was little more than a slightly bungled prank phone call on wheels, I applaud your attempt. Keep practicing. You may well advance to "Is your refrigerator running?" someday.

Second, accept my sympathies for the car you are forced to ride in. What was that? A '93 Hornet? I can only imagine what it's like to ride around in an un-airconditioned car on a sultry Houston summer night, sweating through your Ross-Dress-for-Less jeans onto the vinyl seats while the car's leaking exhaust system sends just enough carbon monoxide into the passenger compartment to make you slightly nauseated. Must be torture, and I can empathize.

Honestly, though, thank you for recognizing that my form was female! Dressed in my baggiest shorts and a shirt that doubles for pajamas at times, I remain impressed by your powers of observation. Especially because I'm kind of dumpy and even probably older than your grandmother! I say that, of course, because I would guess that both your mother and grandmother gave birth as teenagers. Alone. On the floor of a Motel 6.

And I bet I can also safely assume that Grandmama--even at her age--sports a much slimmer profile than do I, given that she and your mother spend most of their time standing in doorways, smoking crack and meeting new gentlemen friends. But, really, thank you for noticing. I am proud of my gender.

Finally, asshat, you scared my dog. If you do it again, may the hepatitis you contracted in utero flare up and dash any career hopes you may have had as a professional beer taster. Jerk. And go &%*$ yourself.

Another Excellent Joke

Q: Why don't Junior League ladies attend orgies?

A: Too many thank-you notes.


Claire, can I tell where we got this one?