As is my wont (for the past eleven times, although I never noticed until this morning that I mentioned ZergNet twice), every so often I like to warn my fiends about the potential dangers of getting lost in the forest: the forest of links, that is.

Whether you’re a casual trivia buff or a full-out philomath, you can be drawn in unawares, at which point all your minutes are belong to them for a while. Each time you try to break away, you’re drawn back in by clicking just one more link. It’s like an endless loop — or, you know, this. 

Today’s DNGH is among the silliest I’ve posted. Still, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

J’ever notice how certain people really look like other people (and, on occasion, things)? Yeah, there’s a whole site about that. Funny stuff.

Know what’s not funny? Seeing a huge rat run across my classroom carpet. That was awesome.

Calgon…

Yeah, there needs to be a set of rules. Or at least a set of suggestions. This isn’t one of those vague, passive-aggressive posts that are so popular on social media right now. It’s just that I’ve observed several situations lately where simple kindness could have spared people hurt feelings, second thoughts about their self-worth, and basic humiliation.

I’m not saying I hit it out of the park all the time — nor do I think people should be smiling robot punching bags for others. I just think there are ways to communicate disagreement or amusement without trashing someone else’s belief system or reality. It really is about balance. Aren’t many things in life?

I try to live by these rules. I hope it’s why, in part, a few people think I’m basically a nice person. Feel free to add to the list.

1. Empathy counts. Put yourself in the other person’s place before you speak.
2. Look at people when they talk to you; if you can’t be genuinely interested in what they have to say, pretend for a few minutes. Nothing lasts forever.
3. Never laugh at someone’s dreams, no matter how silly you think they are. For good or ill, people’s feelings are real to them. If you’ve ever shared something very personal and special, only to be greeted with baffled looks and incredulous laughter, you know what I mean.
4. Resist the temptation to always give advice. Eight times out of ten, it’s not your job. and not what the other person is seeking.
5. Speak to others as you’d have them speak to you. If it’s not with kindness and *gasp!* occasional deference, they’re hanging with the wrong people.
6. Do nice things for others without expecting repayment or recognition.
7. Resist the temptation to be “that guy” — the one whose job it is to pick apart every comment or find fault in every opinion. Don’t get me wrong: you’re entitled. But it makes you look like a jerk.
8. Learn how to disagree or question without malice. No one has to be a “yes man,” or pretend to agree when he doesn’t. But there’s a way, and there’s a way, feel me? Remember: words can hit harder than any fist.
9. Actually listen — not just wait your turn to speak. Let stuff sink in before you react.
10. This is the hardest one for me: When someone hurts you, don’t react like a wounded animal. Striking back is usually our first defense, and most often the least wise. Don’t repay aggression with aggression. If the aggressor doesn’t have a sparring partner, there’s no point in continuing the barrage. If he does continue, it’s your job to remove yourself from the situation. Life’s too short to constantly be in the position of defending yourself. (That gets old really fast, believe me.) If you choose it, that’s fine, but no one should be backed into that corner against his will.

Those are my ten. Any to add?

Here comes the Nostalgia Train again. I was feeling particularly melancholy last night, pining for things I can never have (my childhood, a chance to live in the south of France for a year, a simpler life), and I happened on some great memories. I figure some of you might have some stories or memories too, so I thought I’d post some pictures and get the fond recollections going.

Many a lunch — even into my adulthood — featured this delicacy.

I hated these! They set my teeth on edge. I have trouble even looking at them. *shudder*

Open the door, grab the bottle.

If you wanted one, you didn’t admit it.

We were rarely permitted to drink pop, and even less often allowed to drink from the bottle, but on the rare occasion…heavenly.

Yep, we had one.

Every single night of our childhood, 365 days a year. Make the iced tea, and put ice in the glasses. Then fill the ice trays so you could do it all again tomorrow night.

Every bathroom in our house had one.

Mother had one that sat on a sleigh-shaped candy dish.

The parents drank their coffee out of these every morning.

So, any memories come to your mind? I love the vintage stuff and the flood of good feelings that accompany it. Those were the days, my friend…

So sorry to have not updated you on my little story yesterday. As you might imagine, the day just got away from me and that was all she wrote (literally).

So, the tale.

As you may know already, the coach lines were an hour late picking us up from the school, so instead of leaving at 9 p.m., we left at 10. That may not seem like a big deal in the big scheme of things, but oh my…it was.

Being behind schedule in, say, Cincinnati, is one thing. Being behind schedule on New Jersey 495 into the Lincoln Tunnel? That’s another issue.

First off: we totally blew off the Today show because of traffic and time concerns. We were at breakfast at Cucina, and already we were running late getting all the way from 50th St. to 112th, where the cathedral (and the gig) sat. And the logistics of sending 104 people to the bathrooms in the lower level of the Rockefeller building — well, that’s another thing, too. So, by the time we got to St. John, we were already almost an hour behind.

But no worries, right? Our awesome (and I do mean incredibly cool — you’ll see why in a minute here) escort, Cathy, called ahead and talked to someone at the church, who said, “It’s fine — no one is waiting behind them to perform, so they can just go ahead and start when they get here.” Nice.

So we pull up to the church steps, fall out of the buses, get out the robe coffins, and distribute 80 robes like our hair’s on fire. Then, to my complete shock and bewilderment, Cathy appears and starts motioning wildly for the kids to come into the church. Note: we have neither warmed up nor lined up.

So I fly up the steps and go inside. I’m trying to A) find Cathy, and B) line up the choir in the back of the church in some semblance of order before walking up the 600-foot center aisle to the front. Cathy appears and delivers the good news: “They just told me you cannot sing in the church after 11:00.”

It was 10:55.

So — forget the center aisle and any appearance of decorum. I told the kids as quietly as I could to just start walking up the side aisle to the front. Now bear in mind: these poor students had never been here before. They had no clue what was to happen or why they were escaping up a side aisle like thieves, and especially, why they were approaching a performance while standing and walking completely out of order and formation. It was crazy, but they handled it perfectly.

We finally reached the front of the church, and I started motioning them to get on the steps, just willy nilly, as best they could. Everyone was jumbled, and this is a group that is accustomed to standing in their respective sections (soprano, alto, tenor, bass). I could tell by the looks on some of their faces that they were not sure any of this was going to work. Truthfully, I wasn’t too sure, either.

But then, fiends, beautiful things happened. They sang pretty well, and I think the people in the gathered crowd were appreciating them nicely. We got three tunes in, and I feel a presence behind me.

It was the law. The guy said, “You have to leave. Now.”

OK, no problemo…………………………

So that was our “performance” experience at St. John. I still don’t know why they cut us off, other than for some secret reason, likely having to do with making money. But here’s what went on behind the scenes:

Cathy was confused as to why “No problem; they can just sing when they get here” turned into “Nobody sings after 11, so they can’t perform.” So, long story longer, she had a little battle of words with the cathedral manager, to whom she basically said, “These kids have driven 600 miles to do this. Are you going to refund their money? No? Well then, they’re singing. Call the police if you want to, but they’re singing.”

Yep. She’s a rock star. She got us three numbers, when it easily could have been zero. We love her for that (and other things).

So…today’s our last day on tour. I think everyone had a good time, and I hope it continues through this last busy day, when we’ll do the Staten Island Ferry, a tour of Lower Manhattan, Chinatown, the financial district, the 9/11 memorial, Grand Central Terminal, Fino for dinner, and then Top of the Rock before heading home at 10 p.m.

It’s been a real nice cruise.

See you on the flip side, fiends.

As I was up from 3:00 a.m. Tuesday until 11:00 last night, I’m happy to be sitting here at 5:56 talking to you.

I have a funny story. It’s not funny-ha-ha (well, it kind of is), but it might make you smile. The funny story, however, will have to wait until I have a moment to update later, because, well…it’s 5:56 a.m. and I have to be downstairs at 6:25 to meet 104 of my closest friends.

For those who follow on Facebook: I’ll update there when I’ve told the tale, and you can come back over. For those who don’t, check back around noon or so. Once the days get going around here, it’s hard to stop them, but I’ll see if I can’t connect the ol’ iPad on the bus ride into the city. Good? Good.

Today, it’s Today (we didn’t have time to do it yesterday, which happens to be part of the “funny” story), then Central Park, the village, shopping in Times Square, dinner at Bubba Gump, then the short walk to the Majestic Theatre for Phantom. Good day planned.

Too bad our red knight didn’t win at Medieval Times. Hmmm. Fink’s knight lost. Who knew? What’s that now…nine for nine? *fist pull*

FO till later — many hugses to my fiends