School's Out and Excuses Abound

(NOTE: I wrote this post on Nov. 3rd, but hit 'save' instead of 'post'. So this is an oldie but goodie-I hope!)

My mom was in college before she realized that not everyone missed school for The Oscars. Her parents declared it a family holiday and no one went to school or work in preparation for the big event each year. Shawn and I are working hard to promote a similar legacy with our kids, but for a very different American institution--voting.

Every time we vote, Shawn and I keep the kids home from school and we take them with us to the polls. We usually let them fill out our choice for President (with close supervision since we live in a swing state) and everyone gets an "I voted" sticker for the day. Our tradition is to sleep in, vote, go out to lunch, and then watch the election results until way past bedtime.

The drawback to our ritual is that everyone calls in 'sick' for the day. But this year that excuse just didn't seem right. When I was filling out an excuse for the kid's absence I was really torn between using the standby excuse (Josie has the stomach flu, so 'sick' works unusually well this time) or 'religious reasons'. I think politics, voting, and American democracy are a key part of my family life and what we do feels more like a religious practice than a public duty. So I've been thinking, maybe I should step up to the plate and redefine our absences in a new way rather than practicing my fake cough every 2 years. If you were us, what would your excuse be? To help you decide, I'm posting some pictures of our day out on the town. How do you think this should go down--a fun day, a sick day, a religious holiday, or something else?

____

FYI, the pictures in the polling booth are particularly historic since they nearly got my ballot thrown out. Apparently, the on-site-election judge is not a fan of the flash. I'm glad PA took voting irregularities seriously this year, but it seems a little strange that my picture-taking-at-the-polls case had to be reviewed by a judge at a local court to see if I was REALLY naughty or just kind-of naughty . I didn't find out until about 7pm that my vote counted, I broke no laws, and all was well. Overall I was happy that (1) I could vote in this important election, and (2) my excuses for missing work and school were expanded to include 'lawlessness' and 'deviance'.

I'm also posting pictures of our free advertising for president. On Halloween some of the kids (or adults?) must not have liked our treats because they tricked us by tearing down our yard sign for president. Bad move if they wanted to muzzle Shawn. He went out the next day and got a new yard sign, two window signs, stickers, and two bumper stickers for our car. The stickers for the people and cars were put on ceremoniously before we left to vote. Um, just in case you missed it with the 18 points of advertising, but our family supported Obama.

A Tribute to 'Roids

It was recently announced that the beloved era of Polaroid film has finally come to an end. We were fortunate to take a final family Polaroid photo just last week, with Santa, no less. If you're on our Christmas Card mailing list, you'll be getting a picture very similar to the one below.


If your not on the list, don't feel bad, we rarely send out Christmas cards and the criteria for getting on the Dorii list is sketchy at best, but you'll probably get one that looks something like this:

or this:

OK, after reading the title of the post, how many of you thought it was going to be about hemorrhoids? Nobody? Guess I'm the only 14 year old reading this one.

Tagged

Heather tagged us and asked us to list 6 quirky things about ourselves. Hmmm, where to begin?

1. Shawn eats his pizza like a sandwich, with one piece on top of another, cheese side in.
2. I love blankets and always have one over me when I am sitting on the sofa or sleeping. In fact, I can't fall asleep without a blanket over me even if it is uncomfortably warm and it drives my husband crazy.
3. For about 3 months Shawn and I have averaged a 2 am fall-asleep-time. I'm not sure what wires were crossed in the move but we are on a crazy schedule. So don't worry about calling late at night and don't be offended if I don't answer the phone when you call in the morning!
4. As soon as we can muster the cash we will buy our fourth mattress set since we've been married. Our beds always get huge craters in the middle that make us roll inward. So, we are either very fat or very bad at picking out quality mattresses.
5. Shawn and I met in a research methods class at BYU. I sat close to him because he was near a guy I thought was hot. The hot guy sat next to Shawn because he was gay and thought Shawn was hot. Luckily, Shawn thought I was hot, so our gay friend was the only one who went home empty handed. It was really a new kind of BYU love story.
6. Shawn, Dane, and Josie all have a freaky tooth- and it is the same tooth for all three of them. Shawn's grew in sideways and required braces to straighten it out. Josie grew two mini-teeth in the space designed for one. And x-rays reveal that Dane doesn't have a permanent tooth for that spot at all. I know, I know, way to weaken the gene pool, Dorii!

We Believe in Euthanasia: Part II

The deed is done. The Angel of Death rained down a frozen world of hurt on Tiger. Next question: What the hell do we do with a goldfish suspended in a huge ice cube?


When I was a kid, my grandpa took me and my brother fishing and when the day was over, he dropped us off at home with a cooler containing 2 parts ice water, one part catfish. Thinking they were dead since they weren't moving and their gills weren't flapping, we sat out on the driveway taking turns plunging our hands into the icy water to handle the lifeless cats. As time passed, the sun warmed the water up and revived the fish. Pretty soon, they were flopping all over the driveway. Because my mom has a strict, no kill policy for anything that isn't a weed or an insect, so she was no help. Needless to say, my brother and I were both traumatized. With that in mind, there's no way I'm going to let that chunk of ice holding Tiger melt.

We Believe in Euthanasia

We've had a few goldfish living with us since about July of this year. They were given to us by our old neighbors, the Funds, who have since moved on to greener pastures out at the University of Colorado at Boulder (I'd hyperlink you to their blog, but it's a private blog you need a secret combination to gain access and I don't believe in secret combination's). The fish have been a great addition to the family, until recently. One of the fish, Tiger, came up lame about two weeks ago. I dunno exactly what's going on because I'm not a doctor...yet, but at the very least, his air bladder is off and he's not eating. He's lost a good 30 percent of his body mass over the period, he can't self-regulate his depth any more and so he mostly just floats upside down, and he's been getting nipped at by Othello and so his fins are in tatters. Compared to his tank mate twin, Smudges, he looks like a Holocaust survivor the day after liberation. It ain't pretty.

Poor ol' Tiger, floating on his belly. Sorry about the pic quality--camera's on the fritz.

After hearing every member of the family say "He's a goner" and "He'll never make it through the night" for at least a straight week now, I have decided that in addition to my roles as student, husband, and father, I must now become the Angel of Death. When I told Josie that we need to pull an Old Yeller on Tiger, she bawled for half the night. We went to bed having agreed that the Angel of Death would stay in the closet (along with all of those dangerous gay people too, I hope) until Josie agreed to let him come out and play. Well, tonight Josie agreed to let me end Tiger's suffering. I figured I'd bring him down to my work room, lay him on a slap of wood, and then bash his little head in with a hammer. Seemed quick and relatively painless. Cass put up a strong objection, arguing that we should instead throw him in the freezer because she heard that was a nice, painless way to go (though I surmise she didn't 'hear' it, but rather read it in a Jack London novel). Dane and Josie were good for nothing when it came to suggestions on how to euthanize Tiger, so I am turning to all of you.

How should we terminate Tiger? And because of the suffering involved, if you want to weigh in on the matter, make it quick.

NOTE: Every time I hear the word Euthanasia, I can't help but think of David Sedaris. He has a funny bit on the word, where he describes the image of a bunch of Asian youth (youth-in-Asia) running happily out of school. Really funny.

Being Merry and Bright, Part 1

My Religious Blog has given me a few more reasons to be merry and bright this season. I'm posting a few of the links to his great one-liners and stories. Enjoy!

1. Deep Doctrine

2. Articles Of Faith

3. The Pride Cycle

4. True Story

It is SO on!

After taking some time off from blogging (and emails in general, sorry friends), I have come back to defend the honor of my family.

Ms. Zola Lunt-- it is SO on!

The Montague and Capulet grudge will have nothing on the Dorii and Lunt feud now that my precious Christmas book has been defiled so villainously. (Although, the cookies you guys brought over last night did help a little. Maybe more treats would help a lot. You should try it and find out.)

Until the matter is resolved, I am open to suggestions for favorite Christmas books, since clearly I am now in the market.

What books do you and yours read during the holiday to make your families feel 'merry and bright'?

The Australian OUCHback

Cass's dad was in town this weekend and so we went to see Baz Luhrmann's Australia and in a nod to the theme of the film, dinner was at Outback Steakhouse. Dinner ran a little long and so we got to the movie just as it was starting, and we quickly found out that we were not the only people in State College that came to see Hugh Jackman's bulging pecs and Nicole Kidman's pouty (and does anyone else think botoxed?) lips.

In fact, the ticket sales clerk told us there were only 10 seats left and so we wouldn't be able to sit together and would probably be in the front row. Deciding to go for it, we bought tickets and scurried off to our theater. On the way Cass informed me that she really had to pee, to which I suggested we go find out seats first and then she could head back to the restroom. Sound logic under different circumstances.

The film was starting just as we entered the theater, so we found two seats together and one right behind it for Van. There was an old couple on the two seats closest to the isle and then our two vacant seats. I asked the couple if the seats were available, to which they replied "Yes" and promptly began to remove their coats from the open seats.

Once the seats were open the couple started watching the screen, and didn't move an inch to let us through, so I started to shuffle across the very small isle to get to our seats. Unfortunately, one of my first steps landed right on top of the old gal's foot, which elicited a very surprising response: a top-of-the-lungs, blood curdling scream of "OWWWWWWWW! Jesus Christ!" The theater was completely packed, the movie was starting and we were the main feature. Embarrassed, stuck standing, and being stared at like a supervillian (what else would explain the screaming lady who was now hunched over and grabbing her legs?) I quickly apologized and then dropped into my seat, with Cass following close behind.

The awkwardness of the situation left us staring stonily at the screen for about 10 minutes. As the echo of the old gal's shriek began to fade into the background of the Australian Outback, the steady ache of an already swollen bladder and the slow drip of 3 Diet Pepsi's at dinner began to gain steam. Of course, there was no way in hell we were going to crawl across our isle neighbors twice more (going to the restroom and coming back) just to ease the pain, so we did our best to enjoy the movie. I held out for over 2 HOURS, but when the most vicious kind of of menopause symptoms, including cold sweats and blistering heat, began to overpower the pain of the daggers piercing my bladder, I decided it was time to run the shrieking gauntlet. As I stood up and indicated that I need to get out, the old guy lunged across his wife's lap with all the melodrama his old bones could muster, his body language informing me that he, like Hugh Jackman, would sacrifice all to protect his sweetheart. I shamefully and carefully slid past then and quickly found sweet relief from my torture. Back in the theater, there was no way I was going back to my seat, so I stood down by the door and watch the remaining half hour of the film. Cass, on the other hand, chewed her lip in pain for the full 196 minutes, and then found equally sweet relief when the movie ended.

Working in the White House

Mrs. Pastore forwarded Cass the following assignment Dane recently submitted in school. I guess we have a whole new set of issues to work through with our little man.

11/20/08

Dear Obama,

I am an ordinary boy named Dane Fletcher Dorius. I was wondering if I could get a job as white house toilet scrubber. I do not recoil in sheer grossness of the job; instead, I embrace it. I am 8 years old, so I can happily reach deeper down the toilet. I would love the job!

Sincerely,

Dane F. Dorius

Triple Threat

The circle of life has come full, well, circle. Dane and Josie have stripped me of my sleepy time aid and claimed it for their own. Zola, I'm afraid what seemed to be an honorable, Samuri-to-Samuri challenge has turned into a good ol' fashion Hatfields and McCoy's, er Dorii and Lunts. Somehow, I feel that history may skip over this fued.

LUNT WARNING: THIS IS WHERE THINGS GET REALLY PERSONAL.