I recently read an article on the ABC News website called “Preparing for a Pandemic.” The story included a list of “must-haves” each home should keep on hand if bird flu ends up forcing everyone to stay at home for weeks on end.

No sooner had I finished the article than an interview came on the radio with a government official saying it’s no longer a matter of “if” the bird flu will strike the U.S., but “when.” Then, a short while later, The Daily Show ended a segment with a microscopic look at a virus. One guess which virus it was.

Ever since bird flu began to appear in the news, I’ve had the nagging feeling the story was being carefully managed. Managed by who? I don’t have a clue. So tell me, dear readers, what should we do?

(Sorry. Such scary subjects send me speeding to Seuss, where silliness out-muscles such serious truths.)

I guess maybe my paranoia can be chalked up to having watched too many episodes of 24 (although in my opinion, there’s no such thing as too many episodes of 24), but something about this bird flu business just smells funny to me. It feels as though they know for certain it’s coming and that they aren’t ready. And since they aren’t ready, they need to make everyone aware of the situation in the slowest, gentlest way possible in order to avoid too much of a panic.

(Heaven help me. I’m talking in “theys.” Next thing you know I’ll be tin-foiling the ceiling and wearing a helmet with the ear holes plugged up.)

Like many people–perhaps most–I have my head buried ears deep in the sand. In that position, it’s still possible to breathe and sort of see, but sounds are muffled and not as hard to ignore.

It’s easy to bravely say this is nothing but another millennium-type scare, or to recall the mad panic after 9-11, when folks were stockpiling gas masks and government spokesmen were advising how to use duct tape to lessen the effects of chemical weapons. This is hardly the first time Armageddon was predicted, yet in the so-recent past, nothing of substance has come from the scares.

The only stories that bumped bird flu from the news this past week were the latest reports on global warming, complete with colorful graphics showing raised temperature zones and video footage of melting glaciers. Makes you wonder if there isn’t a Sweeps Week for catastrophic global disasters.

(Hey, in the late ’70s, weren’t they predicting a second ice age was coming?)

Countries all over the world are attempting to prepare for the potential pandemic by stockpiling Tamiflu and Relenza, the only two antiviral drugs that are effective against avian flu. But the U.S. has only two million doses on hand (for a population of nearly three hundred million), so our government is advising us to prepare in a whole different way. Remembering the government’s assurance that duct tape would protect us from those bothersome chemical weapons, I couldn’t wait to hear their advice for staving off the bird flu.

Health and Human Services Secretary Mike Leavitt says we should buy a few extra cans of tuna fish and powdered milk every time we’re at the store. And, according to him, we should stash it under our beds.

Other nations prepare with a mountain of medicine. We prepare with canned goods.

Shopping list: duct tape, tuna, powdered milk, false-sense-of-security blanket. Head-sized bucket of sand.

it still makes me chuckle to think about it, so . . .

Last night I was talking to Geoff and didn’t realize Celeste was listening in. I said, “I’m going to take the pup to the vet tomorrow to get his balls cut off.”

Celeste shrieked and said, “Why would you do that?”

I said, “It keeps boy dogs from running away. If you don’t do it, they go off looking for girls.”

She looked totally horrified, then asked. “Why didn’t you get Murry done?”

I said, “I did.”

She looked at him, appeared confused, then said, “No, you didn’t. He still has his paws.”

Instead of “balls,” she thought I said “paws.” I guess it does make sense–I mean, how far could he go without paws?

My kid is strange. I like that about her. When I got to work this morning, the message light on my phone was on. When I retrieved it, this is what I heard (spoken in a 8-year-old version’s of a Valley Girl/surfer voice):

“Like, um, hi. I’m a high pressure ham salesman and I’m, like, selling ham. I’m also, like, selling chicken. Oh yeah, and I’m also selling these pet vacuums that will totally pick up your pet’s hair and oh, man, is it awesome. It’s called the Pet Vac and the other stuff is called ham. And chicken. Anyway, I didn’t really want to sell this stuff but, like, I was desperate for a job and all, so I am. So, like, if you want to buy some, let me know. Well, later, dude. I’ve gotta go get my nose pierced now. Bye.”

Darn, I thought when I looked at the calendar and realized April Fools Day would fall on a Saturday.

Darn, my daughter and husband will probably soon be thinking, too, when they realize my pool of prank subjects has been reduced to just two.

I prefer having a plethora of coworkers to choose from, as it offers a better chance of catching my victim off guard. But my family-they know me too well. A distrustful lot they are, too.

Since my choices are limited, I plan to rise Saturday morning at my usual time, make my usual noises, not vary from my routine, which includes getting Celeste up for school. My girl, who is NOT a morning person, habitually squeezes in a few extra z’s by eating while still soundly asleep. Each morning, once she’s seated at the table, I put a bowl of cereal in front of her and, without once opening her eyes, she begins to spoon it into her mouth. Occasionally her arm will stall somewhere between bowl and mouth and I’ll have to give her a nudge to get her going again. It’s a fascinating process to watch–to witness someone eat and dress and brush teeth while just minimally conscious. And it’s a process I’m counting on using against her come Saturday morning.

I wonder how long she’ll stand and wait for the bus.

Before anyone starts thinking I’m cruel, trust me–I owe her one. Actually, I owe her several. Ever since Celeste learned my weakness (startle me and my knees go out, like one of those fainting goats), she’s been torturing me. When she noticed I was going around the house picking up clothes for the laundry, she sneaked in the bedroom and hid in the hamper. When she heard me say I was going to go take a shower, she hid in the linen closet. When I went to give a goodnight kiss to what I thought was my daughter, she grabbed my ankles from under the bed.

Thud.

That’s one apple that didn’t fall far from the tree. And when it fell, it made the same sound as her startled mother.

It might sound a bit crazy, but I seldom discourage her from playing pranks, although I want to make certain she recognizes when she’d be going too far. For example, coloring Styrofoam packing peanuts with watered-down orange food coloring and putting them in a candy dish would be ok. Switching my Raisenettes with chocolate covered ants would not.

Generously sprinkling confetti (or glitter) in a little pile on top of the blades of a ceiling fan would be ok. Doing so on our home ceiling fan would not.

Putting Saran Wrap tightly across a door frame would be ok. Putting Saran Wrap tightly over the toilet bowl would not.

Taping a sign to the speaker of a fast-food drive through that says, “Having speaker trouble–please talk extra loud and very slow” would be fine. Taping a “Wide Load” sign to the back of my coat would be going too far.

Just six days to go. Then the games will begin.

P R A N K S

* ONE of the best practical jokes I’ve heard about was one played by a guy whose little sister had a pet turtle–the green kind they still sell at some pet stores that you keep in a glass bowl with water. His sister loved her little turtle and was always worrying whether it was eating enough, so the brother went to a pet store and found a turtle that looked exactly like hers (not hard to do), only this one was a little bit smaller. He replaced her turtle with the smaller one, then several days later, replaced that one with an even smaller one, then did it again with a really tiny one. He marveled with his sister over her incredible shrinking turtle, then waited a few days and replaced it with the slightly bigger one, then again and again, until she had her original turtle back. He claims she never figured it out.

* REMOVE the small electronic music button out of a musical greeting card and hide it under your carpet in an area where there’s a lot of foot traffic. Whenever it’s stepped on, the music will play. It’ll drive everyone (including your pets) crazy trying to figure out where the music is coming from.

* PROGRAM a universal remote control to work with the main TV, then hide it under a seat cushion where you can discreetly make it change channels or raise and lower the volume while the person holding the “real” remote control goes nuts.

* THE next time you’re a passenger in a car going through a drive-through window, tell the person driving that the restaurant you’re at is having a promotion where you can get a free Whopper (or whatever) just by saying “I can spell Whopper” when asked, “Can I take your order?”

* OLDIE but goodie - put a rubber band or a piece of tape around the squeeze handle of the kitchen sink sprayer. Whoever turns the water on will get blasted with water.

* WASH out a can of dog or cat food, then replace it with a similarly smelly food (like tuna), then casually spoon some of it into your mouth while talking to your family. This also works well with a box of dry cat food. (Cracklin Oat Bran looks and sounds a lot like cat food.)

* I LOVE this last one — wish I still had a Brownie troop I could do this one to. If you go to this site, they have find-a-word and crossword puzzles you can print that can’t be solved. http://www.chrisdunmire.com/fun/worlds.hardest.puzzles.shtml

Some dogs are expert beggars, and we’re looking for the funniest and most unique pooch mooch in our area. Does your dog have a special technique to get you to share your food? Tell us your dog’s story (in 100 words or less) and you and your dog might both win some great prizes.

Winners will be announced and prizes awarded on May 6, 2006 at TAYLOR BOOK STORE on Capitol Street in Charleston. Patti Lawson will be on hand to sign copies of her own pooch mooch story about her dog, Sadie (”The Dog Diet: What My Dog Taught Me About Shedding Pounds, Licking Stress and Getting A New Leash On Life”).

Judges aren’t looking for the best writers–just the funniest or most outrageous story, so get out that pen and share your dog’s special techniques for filching food.

DEADLINE: Entries must be postmarked or emailed by April 21, 2006

Email entries to thedogdiet@aol.com. (Put POOCH MOOCH in the subject line.)

Mail entries to: POOCH MOOCH, Taylor Books, 226 Capitol Street, Charleston, WV 25301 or personally deliver to Taylor Books by April 21, 2006.

Entries may be typed or legibly handwritten. 100 WORDS OR LESS. Too many words will result in disqualification.

Decision of the Judges is final.

You must be present to win.

That’s all there is to it! So jot down the story about your ever-clever, always hungry hound, and then get ready for a fun evening at TAYLOR BOOKS on
MAY 6, 2006 at 6:30 p.m.

(I’m one of the judges for this.)

Kind of lame episode of 24 last night. When I put out a column I don’t really like, I call it a place-holder. That’s what last night’s episode felt like to me.

The Homeland Security take-over of CTU is dull and uninspired.

Curtis lived through another episode without his character being developed in the least. Maybe that’s his survival strategy, since characters you like never seem to live long on 24. I mean, no one likes Kim, yet she’s still alive. If Curtis starts acting whiny and spoiled, I’ll be sure that’s his game.

Wayne Palmer resurfaced, insisting on visiting the Presidential compound so he could give something to Aaron, the Secret Service guy. Unfortunately, Wayne wasn’t able to outrun a crappy old van with his sports car.

The show ended with Collette saying Audrey had been the one who provided her with the blueprint. Audrey? Come on. With Nina, there were clues she had the potential to be bad. She had an affair with a married man. She had a cold, aloof demeanor. There was definite self-serving bitch potential in her. But Audrey has never been anything but doe-eyed. She’s the spinning around in the snow, tossing her beret in the air like Mary Tyler Moore type, not someone who would sell out her country. What reason would she have to do something like that? She has a good relationship with her family and isn’t hurting for money. (Well, maybe she is hurting for money since it looks like she can’t afford to buy food on a regular basis.) It feels like a set up, but I wonder how long Jack will end up torturing her before she’s proven to be innocent? Guess Jack will be sleeping alone for another year.

It’s hard to get a picture of Celeste smiling these days since her two front teeth are at different stages of growing in and she thinks she looks goofy. (Young enough to be losing teeth left and right, but old enough to be vain.)

It’s been a long love affair–an on-again, off-again sort of thing. Each time I rediscover this old passion of mine, I go overboard for a while, immersing myself completely. Maybe too completely. Before long, I become distracted, preoccupied with the next time we’re together again.

Just me and my latest audio book.

Please excuse the melodramatics. It’s a side effect of the company I’ve been keeping while commuting these past couple of weeks. Some of the books I listen to tend to rub off on me. Before this last one (”Little Earthquakes” by Jennifer Weiner), it was “I Don’t Know How She Does It” by Allison Pearson, performed by a British reader with a quite lovely voice. The more I listened, the more difficult it became not to try to copy her accent. It’s a book with a bonus.

I’ve always loved reading–loved few things more than curling up with a book for hours on end. I used to have several books going at the same time (one in the kitchen that I’d read with breakfast, one on my nightstand, another in the bathroom, one in my car in case I got stuck somewhere dull). But ever since my daughter was born, I’ve found it difficult to get time to read. It can take ages now to finish a book, and so much time often passes between when I put a book down and when I pick it up again that I forget what’s going on.

That isn’t a problem with audio books. I’m always in my car. Sometimes it feels like I live in my car. I start and end work days with a 25-minute (if I’m lucky) commute, although when I’m involved in a book, I consider myself lucky when traffic is slow.

The National Endowment for the Arts reported that although fewer Americans are reading than a decade ago, nearly a third more are listening to audio books, which account for about 3 percent of books sold. In the past, people who listened to books rather than read them were stigmatized, as if they were lazy or not really reading. That’s still the case, to some degree, but advances in technology, however, now make it possible to store three or four books on a tiny iPod. Suddenly, we who listen to audio books are seen as techno savvy.

Much as I adore this “lazy” way of enjoying a book, there are still several downsides. For instance, a bad narrator can ruin a book you might otherwise love. I bought my daughter one of my childhood favorites, “A Wrinkle In Time.” The book was read by the author, but her accent and speech impediment was so distracting that it sometimes made entire passages hard to understand.

I also miss being able to flip back to reread a particularly well-written passage. When I read something especially good, I often try to figure out just what made that part work. That isn’t so easy to do when you can’t look at the words.

At the same time, though, when I’m reading an actual book, I often skim over parts I deem too descriptive. Doing that, I now realize, can really lessen the feel of a book. I’ve also noticed that I seem to absorb more of a book I’ve listened to far longer than one I’ve read the old fashioned way. It stays with me longer, feels more real. But only if done by a competent reader. It all hinges on that.

My all-time favorite writer, David Sedaris, reads most of his own work. His sense of timing is perfect. No one else could do it the way that he does. But I recently abandoned a good story because the reader made nearly every sentence sound as though it ended with a question mark, and my father-in-law just gave away a CD set he’d been wanting after discovering the reader’s voice was just too grating to bear.

I will always prefer to have a book in my hands, to be able to dog-ear pages, highlight passages, jot notes in the margins. But until my life slows enough that I can do that again, I’ll continue happily haunting the aisles in the library’s Audio Visual department, looking for love . . . on a CD.

MINI REVIEWS OF RECENT AUDIO BOOKS I’VE LISTENED TO

DEAR ZOE by Philip Beard (2004) — This was a FANTASTIC book. One of my favorite reads in a long, long time. The premise for the book struck me as strange — letters written by a 15-year-old girl to her 4-year-old sister Zoe, who was killed on 9-11 by a hit and run driver. The realistic way the story covered grief and the aftermath of something that tragic were handled so impressively that I was compelled to look up interviews with the author online to see if he’d actually lost a child himself. (He didn’t.) Equally impressive is that a 40-ish man could write in the voice of a 15-year-old girl as convincingly as he did. This was Beard’s first novel. His next, “Lost in the Garden,” will be on sale May 4, 2006.

ON THE ROAD by Jack Kerouac (1955) — Although I can’t say I completely enjoyed this book–it seemed repetitive in parts–listening to it left me feeling as though I was actually on a trip myself. Never before has a book triggered such wanderlust in me, and to be honest, it also triggered a bit of regret that I’ve never experienced that kind of reckless freedom.

DAVID SEDARIS BOX SET (2002) — I actually bought this for myself, and for someone who has difficulty parting with money, that says much right there. I already own all the Sedaris books, but wanted the CDs too since he and his sister, Amy, perform the stories. It was money well spent. This man is just the most incredible writer. He can tell a serious story about his mom having lung cancer or his childhood battle with obsessive-compulsive disorder, and he tells it in such a way that you’re cracking up while feeling like you’re experiencing the pain or the problem at the same time. How the heck does he do that? He’s the writer version of a singer with perfect pitch.

DAY OF THE DEAD by J.A. Jance (2004) — This is HORRIBLE. The reader is bad, the story is bad, the writing is bad. I hate that I wasted an hour or so trying to get into it. Major stinker.

TWISTED by Jeffrey Deaver (2004) — Short stories just don’t get much better than this. I checked this one out because I liked Deaver’s book, THE BONE COLLECTOR, and I was not disappointed. This is an excellent collection of shorts. Deaver does not waste a word. Every sentence moves the story forward or serves a purpose. The man is a clean, clean writer. A few of the stories in this collection are just okay, but there are others, like the WEEKENDER, that totally blew me away. There are some writers I just read (or listen to) and others that I want to study to figure out how they do it. Deaver (and Sedaris and Beard) are writers of the studying caliber.

I just checked out THE BREAKDOWN LANE by Jacquelyn Mitchard and so far, so good. I’m always looking for recommendations, too. Anyone? (Is anyone even out there?)

Finally, some good news. My eye pressure numbers have come down enough with the drops that I won’t have to have surgery. Phew. The thought of having my eyes sliced into terrifies me. I have to use the drops for the rest of my life, but I’m still so relieved.

OK, now on to the more important stuff - last night’s episode of 24. I’ve been irritated with the McGill character for a while now, but I liked how he was able to redeem himself.

I was surprised they killed off Tony’s character in such a lame way, unless maybe he’s not really dead. The drug he was jabbed with was the same thing they were giving Henderson and they were able to bring him back over and over, so I wouldn’t be surprised if Tony didn’t return. Last year a near-fatal bullet wound to the neck only made him miss a few hours work, and this year’s life-threatening injuries/burns only took him out for six our seven hours.

A friend sent this to me . . .

A FEW THINGS YOU MIGHT NOT KNOW ABOUT JACK BAUER

If Jack Bauer was in a room with Hitler, Stalin, and Nina Meyers, and he had a gun with only two bullets, he’d shoot Nina twice.

If everyone on “24″ followed Jack Bauer’s instructions, it would be called “12.”

Upon hearing that he was played by Kiefer Sutherland, Jack Bauer killed Sutherland. Jack Bauer gets played by no man.

Jack Bauer once forgot where he put his keys. He then spent the next half-hour torturing himself until he gave up the location of the keys.

Jack Bauer is the leading cause of death in Middle Eastern men.

When Jack Bauer was a child, he made his mother finish his vegetables.

When President Palmer started doing Allstate commercials, it took him 43 takes before he could stop saying, “You’re in good hands with Jack Bauer”.

In 96 hours, Jack Bauer has killed 93 people and saved the world 4 times. What the heck have you done with your life?

Finding Nemo would have been vastly more exciting had Jack Bauer been looking for him.

Jack Bauer can get McDonald’s breakfast after 10:30.

You can lead a horse to water. Jack Bauer can make him drink.

Jack Bauer got Helen Keller to talk.