One of my friends asked me how Lutefisk Fest went.

Sons of Norway float – with Vikings! – at the opening parade.

My four legged black sister Sadie, mom’s nearly human Aussie.

It was a really great day, sunny, 70, and Cheri and mom were excellent company.

Sadie also accompanied us – not by design – but as we started walking to the shuttle bus she jumped the fence and ran out and across a busy road after us. Scared us silly! So as her punishment she got put on leash, taken downtown, and snarfed her way through the food court.

I missed the pancake breakfast, but had a superb grilled chicken florentine crepe instead. We enjoyed the parade, the waterfront and the people watching, but missed the fireworks.

Zach and his girlfriend and buddies stayed downtown until the carnival closed at 9, and then wandered back home. I love that 1) I live in a small town where that’s the norm, and 2) I have a great kid who I trust.

Then I got to do some company cooking – yeah, cooking! – and have another great sunny day with mom again today.

I did manage to miss the all-you-can-eat lutefisk session. Doggone it! Maybe next year.

How was your weekend?

I propose a new edition of the reality show Survivor populated by tribes of some of the nation’s most annoying and extreme political figures. This would be a special version with unique rules, and I’m thinking Guantanamo Bay is a great location for the event.

Here is my proposed starting lineup:

The rules, so far?

1. Contestants begin the competition by paddling to Cuba from the Florida Keys on their own makeshift rafts. First team on the ground gets food.
2. Challenges could include surviving waterboarding, the longest filibuster, the longest silence, shooting & dressing prey (not hunting partners), hunger strike, media deprivation, listening skills, navigating a gauntlet of hostile protestors, skin diving for silver dollars, etc.
3. Halfway through the show, the tribes must combine into a purple tribe without killing each other.
4. Here’s the twist: anyone voted off the island has to disappear from the public media scene and the national stage for, oh, at least four years.
5. The winner could earn his or her own private island, to rule in perpetuity. It might be an empty island, but it would be his/her very own. Mail plane optional.

Can anyone think of additional contestants? Rules? Challenges? I think this has real potential, Hollywood!

Note: I am not a fan of reality tv, and politically I’m independent/libertarian, annoyed by both extremes. This is satire, and anyone who takes it too seriously will have to join the winner on his/her island.

Today is national limerick day. Both Nathan and Vince have made contributions – neither are entirely safe for work.

After ten minutes of noodling about, I can safely say that this is not my thing. I can approximate the meter but am completely lacking the humor part of the form.

There once was a game geek named Zach
Whose screen turned surprisingly black
But then he restarted
His crash was outsmarted
And now he continues to hack

A singer and actor named Ben
Auditioned for All the Kings’ Men
He dressed to the nines
and remembered his lines
He’s opening Friday at ten

There once were two dogs who stood guard
Both Panda and Murphy barked hard
Then they slept in
Missed all their bacon
And now they dig holes in the yard

Monday is painful on a number of counts – sleep deprivation, return to work mode with an overflowing inbox, the weekend’s catastrophes lying in wait, and regret for lost weekend opportunities.

So how can we improve them? Besides the sensible things, like maintaining a consistent sleep pattern and cleaning up the desk Friday afternoons.

This morning I indulged in leftover dark chocolate pudding – for breakfast – along with my coffee. What other things could help make Mondays better?

• As above, dessert for breakfast!
• Schedule lunch with a friend.
• New shoes!
• Ditch the depressing news on the way to work; listen to NPR, comedy or an audiobook.
• Or, the Tania^TM method – resign.

I’m sure the rest of you have ideas, serious or tongue-in-cheek, please share!

Tonight I had dinner alone (take out chicken tikka masala and nan). Dinner companionship is something I’ve taken for granted over the years as a wife and mother, but Bryan’s gone now, the eldest was at work and youngest off on a date.

Because I’m compulsive and twisted that way, I did some math.

For the next three years I should have some combination of young adults living at home, so they’ll probably forage from my fridge about four nights of seven. I’ll likely have a dinner date with a friend a couple times a month as well. This leaves me with about 420 nights eating dinner on my own during that time period.

After than, I have, conservatively, 28 years left of eating dinner alone. With the same rate of dinner dates a couple times a month, that’s 9,548 solo dinners.

Damn, I’d either better work on my social life, or buy stock in Amy’s Organic.

(Note: black humor, not black depression, was my intention here!)