MY FUTURE BROTHER IN LAW

As some of you may recall, my sister-in-law is currently working with the Peace Corps in Tonga. Here's an article about the man I'm convinced she'll marry while she's there. While the story's worth the click just for the opening sentence, you could also simply opt to hear his sultry voice.

Mothers, lock up your daughters!

HAIRBRUSH NOT INCLUDED

One of the great things about being an editor of a technology
magazine? Making fun of your kids' toys in print.

Along with the earsplitting Kiddie Konga drum and a jive-talking Spongebob Squarepants, perhaps the toy I've most regretted giving my four-year-old daughter was a doll. And not just any doll, but a reporter doll.

Her name is Jessica Journalist, and she's one in a series of dolls that's supposed to dispel the whole Barbie stereotype by providing girls with meaningful role models for their future careers (which, as my 401(k) tanks, means I probably should have sprung for Law School Lucy).

It's a nice thought, and Jessie is certainly decked out with all the modern newsgathering tools: a laptop, cameras--both still and video!--notepads and a tape recorder, among other things. But then there's the oversized hairbrush, plus the stylish leopard-print jacket, things I don't recall my female colleagues bringing to the municipal wastewater authority and library board meetings I used to cover back in the salad days.

But as always, I digress. I didn't mention the entertaining book that came with the doll, which featured Jessica Journalist mentoring an aspiring grade-school journalist by driving her around in a convertible and asking senior citizens some really, really softball questions. And at the end of an interview with her grandfather, the girl gives him a kiss on the cheek.

Now as a serious journalist, that's where I have to say something. That's simply preposterous. I always kissed my sources on the lips.