If you listen to Mahler’s sixth symphony, you’ll hear a series of hammer blows in the final movement, which Mahler himself described as “three hammer-blows of fate, the last of which fells [the hero] as a tree is felled.”  At 6:47 a.m. in our house, though, it means that the three-year-olds have somehow gotten hold of a large hammer and are using it on their bedroom door to let Mommy and Daddy know that it is, indeed, time to wake up.  It’s a message I hope the rest of this country of ours begins to get, loud and clear. 

You knew it was coming: Sarah Palin…  Douglas Burns hit the nail on the head in the Iowa Independent .  To wit, “For her part, GOP vice presidential candidate Sarah Palin – speaking with the programmed cadence of a GPS navigation system — used forced folksiness to deliver crammed material in the manner of a  high schooler looking to score a good grade on a Spanish test. The kid may escape with a B-minus, but he wouldn’t be able to order a cup of coffee in Spain a week later.”   Bless you, Mr. Burns.  (Hey, can I call you Doug?)

Anyway, I took the hammer away from our little ones, but I certainly hope that Obama and Biden keep pounding their message home, at least as long as Gidget Sarah is on the loose, beating us about the collective head with with her uber-folksy hockey stick.

I wish there were time for more fun and games right now, but the little fellas will be home from school anon, and then the carpet guy’s coming over so we can sign contracts.  (His brand of folksiness is fine and dandy by me… “Let me do my cipherin’ and I’ll give y’all a call back with the figgers.” )  

But Sarah must wait.  So much to talk about from last night, though…  Hockey moms (I think not…), Joe Six-pack, which doesn’t come anywhere close to categorizing the male of the species in this particular house…  Really, could she possibly boil us down to a lower common denominator?  On the other hand, Sarah, thanks for the reminder that you’ve “only been at this for five weeks.”   Until later, then, mind your head, America! 

Whoops, I see I forgot to mention the Hollandaise, which is actually pretty important.  I finally got around to trying the new incarnation of Kerbey Lane.  I used to be fond of the place not only for its laid-back vibe, but also for its excellent Eggs Benedict.  With Mom in tow, that’s where I headed yesterday morning for breakfast, intent on getting my annual Eggs Benedict fix.  Not like I can’t make it myself, but its so much nicer to dive chin-first into someone else’s Hollaindaise.  Damn those hippies, though… they pulled my EB from the menu!!!  I did manage to identify an acceptable alternate, Eggs Francisco–scrambled egg, tomato, bacon, avocado and queso on an English muffin–but I doubt I’ll be going back, as the vibe seems much more ‘Luby’s’ to me now.  Sigh…