Yellow Dog/Bleeding Heart

Ironies of Unemployment

2010-10-18T18:33:00.000-04:00

Here's another teaser (designed mostly to hold me accountable for posting new content)!

The very first job I applied for; the one that was a total fluke; the one where the director said I pretty much had her at, "I understand you're looking ..."; the one where the job was mine just as soon as the director could tame the politics and take a breath ... remember? Well, yesterday I learned that she has been arrested and charged with some mega heavy duty felonies committed via her position.

Damn. Ya suck up to someone for months and they go and ruin it by making a bomb threat. Dontcha hate it when that happens?

Stray tuned for the full story and even more stories of ridiculous situations that could only happen to me.

Yellow Dog vs. the Cannoli!

2010-10-18T18:23:00.000-04:00

Stay tuned for an epic account of my battle with the cannoli. It was gruesome - every dish was dirtied; chocolate chips were charred; Cinnamon was shed and the ricotta totally turned traitor. Seriously. I fought the cannoli and the cannoli won. Stay tuned!

Edits

2010-09-30T08:47:00.000-04:00

I've been playing around with layout, but my html skills are rusty. Please be patient - and let me know of any problems, preferences, or wonky links in the comments.

Speaking of Sophie

2010-09-30T03:49:00.006-04:00

In my last post I mentioned that I related to the character of Sophie on HBO's In Treatment so much that her last few sessions had me in tears. I swear it was like watching my own teenaged self going through therapy - which I probably should have. Abandoned by dad, depressed mom, feeling responsible for everything, acting defiant ... I swear the writers of this show found my diary from when I was 16. I wasn't a gymnast, but I did have red hair and I was in a motorcycle accident and I did OD. Hell, I even once bought a brass sailboat for Rick. I didn't have a therapist, but I did find a priest who met with me in his office once a week one summer. *sigh* "What did I do?" I still ask myself that question to this day.

Watch this video and then comment to let me know if Sophie made you cry too.

Also, in case you've ever wondered what I was like at 16, well, here ya go!

The Kids Are All Right ... Despite having seen this dumb movie

2010-09-30T03:20:00.005-04:00

I love the fact that even though both of the kids are officially "adults" now they still like to go to movies with mom and dad. We managed to coordinate all 4 of our schedules and spend a recent Friday night at the movies seeing Scott Pilgrim, which we all enjoyed for different reasons. On the heels of that bonding experience we made plans to see The Kids Are All Right a couple of weeks later.

I had been anxious to see this movie since first hearing about it. As a major champion for same sex marriage rights, I was thrilled to see such a relationship depicted in a mainstream movie. I anticipated realism without sensationalism; in addition to superior acting. I've loved Mia Wasikowska every since I had the pleasure of watching her act out my own life story via her role as Sophie on the series In Treatment. (Okay, so maybe I was never a gymnast and my parents were not rich beautiful successful California people, but the pathos and daddy issues were dead on. I literally wept through her last few sessions with Paul.)

D ended up being tied up with band practice but LD, KD and I went ahead to see this movie.

Wow. What a disappointment; an uncomfortable disappointment. We weren't very far into the movie before being hit with our first gratuitous sex scene. I'm by no means a prude, and the kids have not been overly sheltered to the sexual realities of the world, but sitting between my 18 year old son and twenty year old daughter while gay male porn plays across the screen was definitely one of my most uncomfortable parenting moments. I knew without looking that LD would already be eye rolling at the gratuitousness of the scene, but KD was caught off-guard.

"Well. This is certainly uncomfortable," I whispered to her. "Don't be taking grandma to see this movie."

I don't have a problem with the fact that our movie couple watched gay male porn - okay, I'll admit to a tiny problem with it because it defies both reason and the opinions of my lesbian friends (whom I queried later). My problem was with the fact that they made us watch it - and that it was completely unnecessary to the story line. We were also treated to a second showing later (including a man-to-man blow job) which was again, completely unnecessary.

In fact, I felt like maybe there was a whole subplot to the movie left on the cutting room floor which might have made the whole gay male issue a bit more relevant to the plot line. Like maybe Laser (the son) was, indeed questioning his sexuality. That certainly would have explained why the character of his douchey friend was included in the movie. Instead, the character of "Laser's friend" (I don't even remember his name) served no purpose except to nose around the lesbian moms' bedroom; find and play the porn; attempt a stupid skateboard trick; and almost pee on a stray dog. Relevance? I sure didn't see any.

And then we have the committed lesbian couple I was so eager to see portrayed. The set up is that they have been committed to each other for (at least) 18 years. They each underwent AI in order to give birth to a child of their own. In my opinion that shows a serious commitment. Why then does the doctor mom act so surprised when the hippie mom acts like ... a hippie. Is this news to her? I've only known them for about 30 minutes but I'm not at all surprised by her behaviour because that's so clearly a fundamental aspect of who she is. Ditto on hippie mom's surprise and indignation when doctor mom is discovered to be on the phone with a patient (okay, never mind that the phone never rang). They've been together 18 years - has she never EVER been called away to deal with a patient before?

And then we have my main complaint about the whole stupid movie, which is that apparently even when someone is in a near 20 year committed monogamous loving homosexual relationship all it takes for one to stray from both the commitment AND their own sexuality is a guy with a big dick. Seriously. The first time hippie mom hops into bed with the hetero male she's known for only a couple of days she is quick to make sure we know she's quite impressed with his endowment. And so begins the numerous scenes of them having heterosexual butt-pumping sex in too many different positions to count.

I'm not even going to bother with talking about the rest of the movie because it pretty much lost all credibility with me right there. Lesbians are turned on by gay male porn and when presented with the opportunity to enjoy a well hung man they will turn their back on their partner, their family, and everything they've ever held sacred. Yeah, right. Ugh.

I would love to have known what led Laser to want to find his bio dad, or why the moms seemed to suddenly not know or communicate with each other, or even why Sophie (she'll always be Sophie to me) was so concerned with her bff's sexual exploits. Instead, the only thing this movie showed me was a bunch of sexual positions I had already seen ... and some gay male porn.

The kids in my own life are definitely all right, as on the ride home they had a long discussion about how gratuitous sex or violence in movies is stupid and how they don't believe that one's sexuality can change on a whim. By the time we got home we were all three pretty much over it. When D asked how the movie was the kids just rolled their eyes and I gave him just enough information to horrify him (he's far more protective than I) before we all turned our attention to playing with Jake, who had been locked in the back yard all evening with no one to play fetch with.

Sometimes just having all of us dorking around together at home is way more fun than going to the movies. anyway.

Random Shout Outs, Kudos & Complaints

2010-09-10T17:19:00.002-04:00

The world is a beautiful place today! I tend to forget how much fun it is because I tend to stay holed up wallowing in my unemployed-ness, but today I ventured out and functioned amongst the masses for a while. The weather is beautiful and the traffic was tolerable. Speaking of traffic:

To the man in the white truck with the old school trailer: It was very nice of you to stop in the middle lane so I could turn right even though the guy in the right (my) lane already had it covered & I had begun my turn, but was it really necessary to honk repeatedly at me and gesture wildly towards the center lane? I mean, we were all stopped because of the red light a few car lengths ahead. So like I said, it was nice of you to stop also, but what you didn't seem to understand was that I did not want (or need) to turn into your lane, as I was going to hook another right as soon as the light changed. The first time you honked and pointed I smiled and politely pointed back at my own lane to try and convey that I was going that way. The second time you honked/pointed I checked for a stalled car in my intended lane to make sure you weren't giving me some kind of polite friendly driver heads-up. The third time I thought you were being far too bossy, so I just exchanged a wtf look with the red truck in my own lane. I'm sorry your lane wasn't appealing to me - despite your best efforts to get me to join. It wasn't you. It was me. We were just on different paths in life.

To Whole Foods: Your garlic pesto knots complete me.

To the nice mail carrier who traded lanes with me on the parking lot: Thank you for the car window service mail pick up.

To the city worker guys with the Ditch Witch (Shout out Littlefield!): It's hot out there, but I want you to know you are appreciated.

To Dr. Cobb: Thank you very much for the supply of free samples! It sucks to be uninsured in the U.S. NHC now!

To Bodhi: I said you could go with me, but you didn't want to, so quit acting like I abandoned you.

To DD: I want my steak dinner and I'm quite confident I earned it.

To Ilonka: So glad to have you back in my life!

To my neighbor who is moving to China in 3 days: I'm so excited for you and can't wait to hear stories of your experiences as an expat!

To iTunes: I'm already a genius so I'm not at all interested in your slow loading recommendations! Also, YES, I do want to continue to receive my podcasts. That's why I subscribed to them and I'll listen to them when I'm damned good and ready. And NO I do not want you to auto delete anything. STOP TRYING TO SECOND GUESS ME!

To Obama: Hang in there - not everyone is an ethnocentric idiot.

To Ethnocentric idiots: SHUT UP!

Life After Lay Off: Weeks 9 and 10

2010-09-10T05:18:00.000-04:00

I've had strep throat. Or tonsillitis. I'm not sure which, but my throat looks like raw meat and feels like someone ran an electric sander over it. It hurts to swallow. It also hurts not to swallow.

Unfortunately since I no longer have health insurance, or a job I cannot afford to go to the doctor.

Fortunately since I live with an autoimmune disorder anyway I have a giant stash of antibiotics on hand. So, I've simply used my Google-fu to determine which antibiotic and in what dose and have been medicating myself.

Hmmm ... even with my mad medical skillz I still can't get a job.

Popular Phenomena I Will Never Understand

2010-09-01T16:02:00.010-04:00

There are many things about popular American culture that absolutely baffle me. It goes without saying that I abhor media manipulation, but the increasing willingness of people to succumb to it leaves me both disgusted and saddened. In many instances it's as if logic has ceased to exist. To wit:

1. Lady GaGa: For starters she looks like a drag version of Howard from the Big Bang Theory. I do agree that she has a beautiful voice, but whatever happened to letting that stand on its own? I have no problem with celebrities using their platforms to educate and inform about causes they believe in, but Lady GaGa is promoting nothing but her own self with all the ridiculous costumes and videos. In fact, by appearing as a freak show she's alienating a large portion of an audience she might otherwise be able to reach and instead appealing to the lowest common denominator. I'm a huge proponent of individuality and self expression. I was saying "fuck the fascist beauty standards" long before people like her came along, but there is a difference between drawing attention to a cause and drawing attention to oneself. Lady GaGa is doing only the latter, which is shame because she seems to be an intelligent and articulate person underneath all the BS.

2. Miley Cyrus/Jonas Brothers/Justin Beiber etc.: Remember the days when musical success and chart topping hits were the result of talent? Sure, good looks and connections played a role, but overall it was about musical ability - a good voice, a mastery of an instrument, the ability to write both music and lyrics. Songs used to stay at number one for weeks. The same names dominated the charts repeatedly. Stars had staying power. These days "stars" are manufactured by giant PR organizations (Disney anyone?) and actual talent has very little to do with it. Whenever I hear Justin sing I can only think, "Shut up little boy! You know not of what you sing. You are a child!" Seriously! Songs have become nothing more than commercials for a brand. I'll pass.

3. Dressing your dog: The basic reason people wear clothing is decency. We simply do not live in a society where it's acceptable to let your nipples or penis hang out for all to see, therefore we wear clothes. As a result of wearing clothing we develop personal style. Dogs? They are not required to conform to standards of decency. They "wear" their skin. That should be the end of it. No matter how much one might want to believe their dog loves designer clothes it simply is not true. Fido does not prefer pink over black; Yankees over Cardinals; Cowboys over Patriots; Harvard over Yale or anything else his/her owners might want to project upon their pet. Unnatural fibers probably irritate their skin. Ruffles itch on their necks as much as flies would. A collar weighted down with rhinestones and charms strains their necks. Shoes and hats throw off their balance. Get it? This dog does not look happy - it looks stupid! The beauty of a dog is that it is perfect in its natural design: feet that are padded to sustain walking on various surfaces; whiskers to help with balance; ears and eyes shaped in specific ways to facilitate survival; and coats of fur designed to keep them both warm and cool as weather dictates. Dogs need us to feed them, protect them, and to obtain medical help for them when they are sick. That is all. if you want to dress something up in costume and carry it around then get a freakin' doll. If you simply must buy clothing for someone other than yourself how about spending your money to help clothe needy people - you know, the ones who are freezing to death on the streets in the winter b/c they do not have coats. For the love of all that is right and good please let your dog be a dog and maintain his or her own doggie dignity.

4. Facebook/MySpace/Twitter: Identity theft is an ever increasing problem in our society. Privacy is a growing concern. The ink is barely dry on our stalking laws. One of the biggest fears of the neocons is that "Big Brother" is watching. Spam infuriates everybody. And yet millions of people have signed up to post all of their very personal information - including their innermost thoughts - on the most public forum existing in our world today. Does nobody see the irony in that?!

5. Reality TV: Here's a medium that celebrates the worst of human traits: greed, lying, stupidity, selfishness, ridicule, manipulation, and a whole host of other base human emotions and actions. This is not entertainment. Why are people so quick to want to see a fellow human being debase his or her self in pursuit of the almighty dollar? Why do we want to see people thrown together in a community only to divide and form allegiances against one another? And for the love of all that is sacred why on earth do we wish to watch people eat disgusting things until they puke? Game shows based on intelligence and knowledge are great. Those based on bodily urges and functions are not.

6. Sushi: Newsflash: Every since the discovery of that nifty thing called fire (along with the appearance of opposable thumbs) there is no longer any need to eat raw fish. I don't care how trendy, pretty, innovative or fresh it is it's still RAW FISH and unless your only means of obtaining food is to catch live prey with your bare hands/paws, rip it apart immediately as its lifeblood drains out, and growl to intimidate any nearby predators as you ingest it then there is no reason to eat raw fish or any other meat.

7. Angelina Jolie: A very wealthy white woman who travels the world purchasing human infants is also considered to be a United Nations Goodwill Ambassador and bestowed with humanitarian awards? I will NEVER understand that one. We have limits on how many fish you can catch or how many deer you can shoot. Can we not limit this woman's collection of human children?!

8. SUVs: Unless you have to regularly haul large masses of equipment from place to place, or drive in areas without paved roads, there is no reason at all for you to drive an SUV. None. You choose to do so only because media manipulation has convinced you that all the cool people are driving them. And another thing: Quit trying to tell me they are safer because I'm not buying it.

9. Birthers: We live in a world of instant information. The vetting process for elected officials - especially those vying for the highest office in our land - is extremely thorough, not to mention extreme. The background check required to obtain security clearance to work for the government is beyond comprehensive. Despite all of this there is an amazingly large part of our population who believes that Barack Obama is not a U.S. citizen. My own teenage son could not get a job serving ice creme until he proved he was 16 and a citizen. I hardly think that Obama could survive the vetting process, background checks, opposition research and the process of gaining security clearance unless he did too. And if the whole thing is a conspiracy then all of those necessary to facilitate such a cover up would mean that the whole idea of his holding any actual power is moot, so it wouldn't matter anyway.

10. Fox News: I don't even know where to begin with this one. You don't get to claim fair and balanced when you financially support one political party over another. I don't begrudge them their right to show only what they want, but at least call it what it is.

Not Just for Soda Pop Any more

2010-08-31T19:21:00.001-04:00

The words "Pizza Robot" pretty much describe my idea of the perfect man.

Photo Source: http://www.delish.com/food-fun/unusual-vending-machine-foods?gt1=47001

Check out these other vending machines from a more perfect world:

http://www.delish.com/food-fun/unusual-vending-machine-foods?gt1=47001

Hilarious!

2010-08-27T19:02:00.000-04:00

I love intelligent humour and the Glee writer's are genius!

Life After Lay Off: Week 8

2010-08-26T16:57:00.001-04:00

You know those days when you wake up and it's pouring down rain and you'd rather stay in bed than go to work? Those days when you're at work and it's raining out side and you meet someone on the elevator and they say, "This is a perfect napping weather" and you agree and wish you were home under the covers instead of on that stupid elevator?

Well, today was one of those days and when the alarm went off this morning I turned it off.

When you've been laid off you learn to appreciate even the tiniest of blessings.

Life After Lay Off: Week 7

2010-08-26T15:35:00.003-04:00

Photo Source: http://anonymityno-identity.deviantart.com/

Dear Anonymous Hiring Manager,

I am writing in response to your job posting in the August 8th edition of [my local paper]. I am actually perfect for the position you are trying to fill. Not only do I meet all of your basic qualifications (proficient in MS all applications, experienced, excellent oral and written skills etc.) which, really? Shouldn't all of that go without saying in this day and age? I mean who isn't proficient in MS apps? After all, it is 2010 and unless you still use a corded phone and correspond only by snail mail you pretty much have all that down. I'm pretty sure even kindergartners are capable of doing Power Point presentations these days.

However, in addition to all the basics, you "preferred" someone with experience in [obscure legal billing program] which is what I had been working in for the past 10 years until the shareholders of the law firm I was with lost a big case and got scared their bonuses might not be as big this year and spontaneously decided a 10% reduction in force was necessary. Don't get me wrong. I'm not bitter about having been laid off after almost a decade of loyalty (despite low pay) because I can appreciate that it must have been terrifying to them to think they may have to make personal cut backs or sacrifices. The idea of having to give up one of your homes, forgo the annual family safari, lose your family's private box at the new concert venue, or *gasp* drive last year's model of SUV and park with the commoners (rather than in your $10k a year alumni space) at your Alma mater's football games - well, that would certainly cause even Mother Theresa to lay off her devoted assistants. Right?

But back to the program experience you "prefer". As I said, I have extensive experience with that program because ours was one of the two (clearly, yours was the other) companies in the entire western world who actually bought and used that program. Heck, I can even do that program in DOS!

Not only that, but I really really (did I say really?) need a job because it's been 7 weeks without an income now and since I am the sole support for myself and my son things are looking pretty bleak. I mean, I've used up the tiny savings I had; cashed out my 401K; and nearly maxed out all the (previously zero-balance) emergency credit cards. Rent will soon be due again, and while my unemployment is just enough to cover the cost of our shelter I'd sure like to have electricity and water also.

Economics aside, I'm also pretty bored with noting to do all day. My house is super clean, my closets are organised and I've even polished the blades on the ceiling fan in the dining room. It's getting pretty hard to fill my days. For example: I have this chair I inherited from my grandmother which is about a million years old. It's wooden back has a really intricately carved floral design. Yesterday I got out the Murphy's and some Q-tips and polished every tiny crevice of every flower and leaf in its carved wooden design. Yes, you heard me right. I spent over an hour polishing a wooden chair with Q-tips. That's how bored I am.

So, I'm sure you can clearly see how desperate my situation is - in addition to being highly qualified for the position you are trying to fill. But here's the problem ...

In your job posting you asked that I send in my resume along salary history, references, and cover letter; and you asked that I send it to an anonymous PO box via the newspaper. Basically, you want me to send you all of my contact information, employment history, income data and a list of my friends and former co-workers; yet you are unwilling to even give me the name of your company?! I'm sorry, but I'd have to be all kinds of stupid to send that kind of information to an undisclosed recipient. I wouldn't even want to hire someone who was that stupid and I'm not sure why you would.

So, in conclusion, I'm sorry to have to break up in such an impersonal and public way, but you've left me no choice, Anonymous Company. We probably would have been great for each other, but you had to go and ruin it all. Our brief relationship has been entirely one-sided because you were too selfish to give of yourself. I wish you only the best and hope that someday you find someone who is right for you. But when you do, you will always know that your new employee is one who will blindly dispense very personal information to complete strangers and thus you'll always have to worry what they may be saying about you. I hope you can live with that.

Sincerely,

Yellow Dog

22 Reasons I will Always Love Double D

2010-08-18T00:12:00.009-04:00

1. He gets just how cool robots really are

2. He can be Ward Cleaver when he has to

3. He answered some of the "hard" questions during LD's preteen years

4. He still rocks the bass

5. He still remembers the sharkskin suit we bought at a thrift store in 1983

6. He stood in the front yard in the rain with me the night my cat got out and let to me cry it all out - even though he doesn't even really like cats

7. Even though the kids went through a phase of standing outside the bathroom door to harass him every time he went to do his business he never killed either one of them

8. He really does love being a dad

9. The kids and I can still easily embarrass him

10. Even though the bitch neighbor complained every single day he refused to quit parking in front of her house solely because that's where the shade was. And when she cut her tree down just to spite him he didn't flaunt his victory.

11. He always has exactly what is needed no matter how obscure. Firecrackers in December? Check! Emergency drain snake? Check! Black spray paint? Vinyl copy of an obscure album? Door handle for a 50 year old Buick? Probably! I'm pretty sure he even had a Midol in his glove box one time when we were out and I was bitchy.

12. He can drive a station wagon with 2 screaming preteens in the back seat and completely tune them out.

13. He actually cared enough to learn how to properly launder a bra

14. He remembers to make sure the car has gas if it's gonna snow overnight

15. He loathes camping and sports as much as I do

16. Even though he might say, "that's weird" he'll still usually do it

17. When he's being a complete dick you can usually turn him around with cake

18. He's fallen completely in love with his dog - to an almost ridiculous eye rolling degree

19. He can be cleared from any room by simply uttering the word "tampon"

20. Two words: Bell's shoes

21. He loves our weird little family just as much as I do.

And most importantly:

22. He's willing to share his daughter with me!

Fireflies and Memories

2010-08-12T06:04:00.019-04:00

A friend of mine sent me this video and I had a lot of fun watching it and laughing at how many times I thought to myself, "I have one of those too!"

I so want to be in that room and play with those toys!

Watching this video also made me really nostalgic for LD's childhood. My baby boy is pretty much all grown up now and will be going away to college in less than a year. It really really doesn't seem that long ago that our house was cluttered with Lego creations and action figures, and the back yard looked like a Little Tykes delivery truck had exploded there.

Of course there are still robots, dinosaurs, planetarium lights, wind up toys and crazy kitschy things in my house today. That's just a part of who I am. But when LD was a little boy I wanted his room to be his own magical place - with clouds in the sky, airplanes flying overhead, faux fireplaces and pretend picture frames, chalkboard walls to draw on, and assorted other whimsical touches.

Clouds on the ceiling, a Kite flying, furry animal masks on the wall and hand puppets on the bed posts. His sheets had to have cowboys on them and his pillow had marching red hens and French numbers. You can also barely see the mobile of the planets that hung from the center of his ceiling.

Tiny chairs, a puzzle rack, planes flying across the ceiling, a lamp that projected rotating stars on his ceiling as he slept, a framed Pinocchio print and a couple of framed vintage Dick & Jane Illustrations. The closet door was chalkboard and the curtains made by Nanna. It doesn't show, but he also had a big rug that was designed to look like streets and highways for his toy cars to drive on.

He wanted a fireplace of his own - just like the one in the living room. RB & I sketched it out with chalk and then painted it all in one afternoon. The little chair I bought when I was only 16 and dreaming about the children I would some day have. The drawer pulls on the little chest were made from tree branches LD picked out in the yard.

He still has a pretty cool room, but now it's filled with bookshelves, comic books and vintage camera equipment - a reflection of his tastes as an almost grown up man, rather than the little boy who used to act out storybooks for me every night before bed. It was a precious time, and while I am overwhelmingly proud of the young man he has become, I still kind miss my little boy in Osh Kosh overalls, with his pockets stuffed with Lego's and marbles, who would loudly sing me my favourite songs and dance in my arms whenever a Motown song played.

I miss those times filled with imagination and innocence.

And I really do miss that room.

For Dev and Muller!

2010-08-05T05:28:00.003-04:00

It's LYLE THE PARTY GOAT!!!
Also the only goat to ever grace the hallowed halls of the University.

The Pony Pasture! It was worth falling asleep drunk in Muller's bed in the barn-house just to be able to wake up and see this beautiful sight in the morning.

That's Polly - the coolest Cobb in the pasture - and her baby, Veronica with Amy (?) and Tom - the Bart Simpson of horses who used to chase me and try to bite my ass!

Rev - the pony that tried to kill me! Yes he did! Shut up Muller! I still keep his shoe over my front door to remind me of my narrow escape from death.

Am I correct that this is Rev too? I think it is, but I don't remember.

The only time Muller and I have EVER exchanged harsh words was when trying to load a pony in the trailer and Muller got mad when I let go in order to keep from amputating my right arm. I don't remember which horse, but I know it was a looooong and silent ride home in the truck that day. It was also the LAST horse show I ever offered to "help" with. Sorry Muller, but Tony's right - you can be a bossy bitch!

Life After Lay Off: Week 6

2010-08-05T04:41:00.013-04:00

Photo Source: http://www.gardendigest.com/concrete/cvp244.htm

Random Crap I've Learned While Job Hunting:

1. There are some surprisingly complicated jobs out there that only pay crap and some ridiculously easy ones that pay a huge salary. You will be considered "overqualified" for the latter.

2. The guy who euthanizes the animals at the city shelter only makes $32k a year and is not a veterinarian.

3. It apparently acceptable to expect an Office Manager for a non-profit to, not only have a Master's, but also to work for only $28k a year.

4. It is extremely difficult, though not impossible, to get hired as a public school teacher unless you majored in education. If you majored in an obscure humanities related field it ain't gonna happen at all. Though you can teach at a Junior College with only a BA as long as you're willing to work for peanuts, a PhD in Linguistics does not qualify you to teach English to first graders.

5. The person whose job it is to light some kind of very dangerous drilling related pilot lights in remote locations during subzero temperatures only makes $29k

6. Five years litigation experience makes you a very sought after legal secretary. Four years of the same won't even get you an interview because five years is clearly the magical turning point at which you become qualified.

7. There is no such thing as a secretary any more unless you work for a 1960s ad agency.

8. They really do audit you when you're on unemployment because apparently making 1/5th of your usual salary, being uninsured, and having no reason to get out of bed in the morning is so fun that people are wiling to lie to do it.

9. Being the Children's Literacy Program Director sounds like an awesome job until you find out it will involve driving the bookmobile.

10. One of the great ironies of the universe is that you must have a great credit score to work as a collector.

11. Police officers and firefighters don't make crap.

12. All those "unavailable" caller ID entries you used to come home to are actually bill collectors looking for someone named Joyce.

13. The sunlight across your wooden floors at 2pm is really really pretty.

14. Programmable thermostats don't care if you're home all day and cannot be reprogrammed to cool your house on week days when your lazy ass should be at work.

15. It is possible to break a sweat from worrying.

16. Even though you are completely averse to sports you will still contemplate applying for the position of Stadium Manager. Especially if it does not require 10 key by touch!

17. Your resume is actually no reflection at all of who you really are or what you're capable of doing.

18. House Hunters is on TV all day. Every day.

19. Habitat for Humanity is a Christian organization.

20. Job Hunting sucks worse than the worst job you've ever had.

Life After Lay Off: Week 5

2010-08-03T19:02:00.003-04:00

Part my job used to involve talking with random people who would call the firm because they wanted to to sue someone, so I’m fully aware that we live in a litigious society. It still came as a surprise the number of attorney friends who suggested I file a wrongful termination suit.

It seems that laying off someone over forty, while retaining younger employees with less seniority is frowned upon by the EEOC. The fact that everyone else in my office who was laid off was also over forty left the firm vulnerable to a discrimination claim. And then there’s the fact that the day before lay offs they hired three new kids – one just out of high school. These were “favour” jobs, with no real duties, given to the sons and daughters of Shareholders or important Clients. It’s always been a tradition to hire kids like this, but you’d think that when you're also laying off people with families to support that tradition might need to end.

But you know what? It’s not worth it. Lawsuits are a pain in the ass – trust me, I know. And taking on one of the largest, most prestigious firms in this state would not exactly be a cakewalk. I figure karma will work it all out without my help.

I do, however, have to laugh when I hear a certain local political candidate preaching a platform addressing unemployment when I know for a fact that the firm that just laid me off donated at least three times my annual salary to their campaign.

For the first time in my life I may vote Republican.

Life After Lay Off: Week 4

2010-08-03T02:52:00.016-04:00

Photo Source: http://withgoodreasonradio.org/2009/04/trickster-heroines-2/

You begin to try and embrace the lay off as an opportunity, but even though you know you will eventually find a job you love, and that you will likely make much more money; you still have to face down the pile off bills that arrive daily.

Unless, like me, you find it all too much and shove all of your unopened mail and scattered paperwork into a box which you then shove into the corner by your desk.

When your cell phone beeps with new messages you don’t want to face you toss that into the box too. Eventually you dump the contents of your purse; the grocery receipts, unread newspapers, the note your neighbor left on your door, appointment reminder cards, the shopping list, and your planner into the box too.

The box becomes your enemy.

You discover that Law & Order is on some channel at almost any time of day and there are actually still episodes you’ve never seen. You start watching The View. You try to watch Rachel Ray , but turn her off mid-show and wonder why the hell she is so popular. Your cats start avoiding you because you are too needy even for them. You surf the internet and lose hours of your life to learning about obscure cultures and people you will never meet. You avoid the grocery store for so long that you eat frozen peas for dinner more than once. You play with your robots, organize your photo albums and rearrange your closets.

Anything to avoid real life.

Finally your son gently points out that you haven’t left the house in over a week, so you get dressed and go to the grocery store.

But you’re afraid to spend money because for the first time ever it’s a finite resource. You grab the necessities like milk and bread. As you’re heading for the check out you pass the peanut butter crackers. You used to keep these in your desk drawer for those days when you worked through lunch. Your tears catch you off guard.

Suddenly everything in the whole freakin’ grocery store reminds you of work. Pop Tarts you bought because a co-worker liked them, biscuits you used to make piggies for birthdays, the orange juice you kept in the work fridge for those afternoons when you were sick of Pepsi, decorations for birthday cupcakes, even the magazines you used to justify buying because you knew all the gals at work would pass them around.

So you budget your necessities and carry out a single re-usable bag rather than the dozen you're used to loading into the trunk. You look at the gas gauge and decide that even though you have less than a quarter tank left your'e not going to stop and fill up. You consider it money saved. On the way home you stop by the cell phone store and switch to a cheaper plan.

You pass the intersection by your house where the bums sit with signs and solicit money from the cars that have stopped at the red light. You wonder if just anyone can sit there, or if bums are like hookers who lay claim to a specific street corner and have pimps who will beat you for working their territory. You wonder if anyone would recognize you if you wore a wig.

Something has got to give!

You Can Call Me ...

2010-07-30T16:17:00.017-04:00

... Bodhi

... or Big Bad Bodhi

... or Buddha

... or Bo-Dee-Oh-Dee-Oh

... or Bo Diddley

... or Bo-Delicious

... but I won't come when I'm sleeping

... or meditating

... and sometimes you won't be able to call me anything at all because you'll be laughing too hard!

Life After Lay Off : Week 3

2010-06-21T03:21:00.000-04:00

Photo Source: http://bahava.wordpress.com/2008/04/03/loving-on-the-driscoll-sermons/

Two applications a week.

That’s all that is required to receive unemployment. Never mind that it’s only $200 a week. It’s all the income you have right now.

You search the newspaper, the internet, and corporate websites for jobs. You even check the student job board of your alma mater – though it’s been years since you graduated.

You send out a couple of resumes for jobs you don’t even really want.

You find a job that is perfect for you and you are surprised at how excited you feel about the opportunity. You shine up the resume, write a killer cover letter and prepare your answers to likely interview questions. You mentally inventory your wardrobe and plan what you will wear to work at your fabulous new job. You polish your interview shoes. You get a haircut.

You don’t get the job though, because despite all of the aforementioned you never bothered to send the resume because the little voice inside your head reminded you that you’re not good enough. Why? Because if you were then the employer you had devoted the past 8 years of your life to; the job you loved; the firm you were proud to work for … they told you so. Remember?

You schedule an appointment with your therapist because you still have 2 weeks left of insurance coverage.

And because you are falling apart.

Life After Lay Off: Week 2

2010-06-14T02:50:00.003-04:00

Photo Source: www.myhumbleopinion.org/

Finally I accepted that I had to get up. After all, I’ve always been a survivor, right? It’s what is expected of me. What kind of parent abandons their kid to fend for himself and answer all the phone calls and pretend it’s all okay? How many times could he claim I was in the shower? How many times could I tell him I was okay when he could clearly see I wasn’t? It was a great farce we were playing out within the walls of our home that week.

So I got up. I showered. I ate some soup and promptly threw it back up. I showered again and slept on the couch that night. Eventually the soup stayed down and with the help of some supportive friends I was able to begin to function again.

I filed for unemployment. I deposited my last paycheck and paid what bills I could. I bumped up all my routine doctor’s appointments to beat the cancellation date of my insurance. I filled all of my prescriptions. I updated my resume and then updated it again. I began to network. I applied for as couple of jobs and then updated my resume again.

I had officially joined the ranks of the unemployed in America.

Life After Lay Off: Week 1

2010-06-07T02:47:00.007-04:00

Photo Source: http://www.jibberjobber.com/blog/2006/11/10/dont-write-for-my-carnivals/

Your boss asks you to come up to her office and you know it’s not good because in the eight years you’ve worked there you could barely get her to even answer an e-mail, much less grant you a meeting. When you arrive you instinctively close the door. You note that the witness she has chosen is a woman whom you’ve considered a sort workplace mother figure - your smoke buddy whose shoulder you’ve cried on many times. Even though you know there has to be a witness you wish it wasn’t her.

As you hear the news the tears begin to flow – silently, but humiliating nonetheless. Your boss is saying something about how hard the decision was and how it breaks her heart, and the snarky voice inside you laughs at the charade. Your co-worker/witness offers a hug and you shrink back. “Don’t you get it,” you want to scream, “You are the enemy in this scenario.” You let her hug you anyway. You know they are just following a script that calls for their characters to be sympathetic; almost apologetic. The part of you that left your body as soon as you entered the room is hovering in the corner as an objective observer and wonders just who is supposed to be comforting whom. Finally you ask if you can leave.

You go back to your desk; somehow managing to not trip as you go down the stairs. You pick up a box and put it on your well worn black office chair. You know that if you sat in it your chair right now and leaned back you’d still have a brief moment of panic thinking you were going to fall, because even after all these years you still never got used to its tilt. For some odd reason you check your e-mail and then delete them all while still standing. People chat behind you at the mailroom as if everything is still normal. You pick up a picture frame and put it in the box then remove it and place it back on your desk. You realize that there is nothing you want to take with you because it is all worthless now. Symbols of when you mattered. You take the box off your chair, push it under your desk, pick up your purse, and you walk out. Your sole goal is to get out of the building without falling completely apart. It’s hard to maintain any dignity at all when you’ve just been told you’re not good enough, but you’re determined to hold on to what little of it remains. The receptionist smiles at you curiously because usually when you leave before 5 you tell her when you will be returning. Surprisingly you are able to smile at her before you push through the paned wooden door of the firm for the last time.

Somewhere between the parking lot and your own driveway the ugly tears are unleashed. By the time you reach your front door you are a hysterical mess in full-blown snotty cry.
Your neighbor has also just come home and when he says hello you are unable to respond. You can only shake your head through his concerned questions. You are glad he doesn’t try to hug you.

It’s weird to be in your living room in the middle of a weekday. Even the cats look confused. You lie down on your couch and sob for two hours. It’s too much to process. It hurts too much to even try to think about it.

You wash your face before your son comes home. As soon as he walks in the door you ask him to sit down and calmly tell him the bad news. He takes it remarkably well and somewhere underneath your own pain you feel proud of him.

Then you go to bed, where you stay for the next five days. You cry until there are no more tears and then you fall asleep. Whenever you wake up you cry some more. You refuse to talk to anyone. You don’t bathe. You don’t eat. And every morning when the sun comes up a part of you is disappointed that you didn’t die during the night.

You know you have to get up, but you are too terrified to try. A week ago you had purpose.

Today you are unemployed.

Does Tweeting in Your Head Count?

2009-07-30T23:29:00.001-04:00

I have no desire to tweet b/c everything I do would take far more than 140 characters to describe and likely include lots of digression and asides. Plus, nothing I do is important enough to share with everybody I know.

But sometimes I have a flash of brilliance and I wish I had someone to turn around and share my insight with. Is that what tweeting is? An intangible listener beside you that thinks you are brilliant? That hangs on your every thought? That … dare I say ... gives a shit? Because that? It does sound kind of cool.

But tweeting bs like, “I ate a carrot” or “I’m awake now” is, in my opinion, more than a little bit self indulgent. I know I don’t give a shit about what anybody ate for lunch or saw on the way to work. Do you? Really?

Mainly the reason I don’t Twitter, or MySpace, or Facebook or otherwise socially network is because I like to keep my business private. It’s amazing what you can learn about people from reading their public profiles. In a world where identity theft and cyber crime are rampant it amazes me that people are so willing to publish their personal business! The other night I wasted about three hours of my life looking up people I’ve known: old boyfriends, neighbors, grammar school classmates and such. I was amazed at how much information I could learn about their personal lives without even signing up for an account or “friending” them. (Friend as a verb? Really? Is this what we get instead of flying cars?)

Anyway, I could easily learn their marital status, spouse’s name, children’s names, religious affiliations, employers, Alma maters, and also get a pretty good idea of their current standard of living - and that’s just the public stuff. I shudder to think what kinds of details these people are posting to their friends. Their social security numbers? Savings account balances? Where does it end? What are people not proud of these days? What secrets do they still keep? I’m thinking it must be only the really creepy kinds of stuff because they seem to be sharing everything else with the world.

I prefer to have friends who actually come to my house; people I have to put clothes on to see; people whose voices I would actually recognize in the dark and whose hands I can hold when one of us needs it. I’m not sure I can even really know a person until I’ve felt their heartbeat against my own. Do I have on-line friends? Sure I do! But even with those persons I’ve made the transference into real life and cried with over the phone.

I guess my bottom line is this: If I care about you I have your number and you have mine. If we went to high school together and then fell out of touch there was probably a very good reason for that. I’ll stick with posting the funny crap that happens in my life and I’ll even edit it if it makes a better story. I’ll use pseudonyms as often as I can remember to and if I forget I won’t sweat it. My life is my own to share only as I see fit. I’ll just consider it doing my small part to keep the interwebs free of crap nobody really cares about any way.

And if the rapture happens or the world is otherwise in peril will someone please just call me?

The Townhouse That Tortured Me For a Year: The Downstairs

2009-07-15T14:43:00.033-04:00

It's finally finished (we won't talk about closet doors) and we're all moved in! It was great to be able to be involved in a little bit of design in addition to decorating. I wish I had taken "before" pictures because the transformation was astounding. It went from a place I once walked away from in disgust to a beautiful space we're happy to call home.

Before this it had ugly old carpet, beige walls and pink-ish (yes, pink) trim.

The over sized crown was a must for me, as it created a perfect finish. The light wood floors were chosen to balance the deeper cherry wood of the bookcases. Budget dictated the plantation blinds instead of shutters, but the upstairs carpet made of recycled plastics was a surprise bonus!

I engaged in a stand off with Marty, the Martha Stewart of contractors, about the dining room but won the battle of the solid chocolate walls - though I'm not entirely sure he didn't lower the chair rail I requested as a payback for that and my veto of coloured grout om the subway tiles in the kitchen. (I know the tray ceiling was his own personal victory, as we never discussed it. )

My original design was for these shelves to be stainless steel, but implementing it proved to be a major headache, so I just had Marty build wooden ones. Bob and I did not speak for a week because of these shelves, but in the end it's one of his favourite elements. I did install pre-made stainless shelves along the back wall of the kitchen and all of the new hardware is brushed stainless.

I got my subway tiles with white grout despite Marty's plea to do coloured. I also picked a much darker black granite for the counter tops, but for some reason Marty arbitrarily installed brown. No problem, I can compromise - especially when there are bigger battles to be won. Also, in a world obsessed with stainless steel appliances I opted for all white because: 1. It's easier to clean, 2. There's already enough steel in my kitchen and 3. I'm a trend-bucker by nature.

I hadn't even begun to think seriously about light fixtures when I stumbled upon two of these on clearance for less than $10 each. I had to dig to find the second one, but it was worth it!

This was a quick re-framing of some of my favourite photography efforts for the first floor stairwell. The goal is for LD to do some larger ones for the second floor.

Most people say the kitchen is the heart of the home, but for us it's the bookshelves. They are ever-present in every room of our home, but the main library is in the living room. Those bookcases have been through about 10 moves with me and I'm pretty sure that every mover I've ever used has hated me and my books after moving them.

I asked my friend, John, who is a master craftsman, to build me this CD shelf to be installed in place of the railing in the stairwell. It was one of the rare occasions where I actually measured to very specific requirements. John, however, disregarded my measurements and made it almost two feet longer because he thought I needed the extra CD space. I did need the space, but unfortunately the stair railing isn't eight feet long. It was so beautiful that I didn't care and installed it on the wall over the desk instead.

Over all I think the end result of a home inspired by, and designed around, a Pottery Barn silk drape bought on clearance turned out pretty damned good! I'll post pics of the upstairs as soon as I can, but we're still working out some closet issues.

We're moved!

2009-07-13T03:12:00.015-04:00

No pictures of the new place yet, but here's the move from the robots' perspective.

Burning Building: A Poem-ish Political Analogy Fable Thing

2009-03-15T12:30:00.024-04:00

I now present to you an analogy to illustrate how idiotic the current political debate is and the selfish attitudes I'm seeing expressed in our country today:

Let's say you're trapped in a burning building with flames leaping closer an closer. Meanwhile, the fire department has arrived on the scene, but the firefighters are doing nothing because:

Some of them think it is an electrical fire and

Some of them think it is a gas fire so

There are two very different approaches to how to put it out and

No one can agree on which one.

Finally the Chief issues orders based upon the best available information and the resources immediately at hand, but instead of rushing to rescue you the firefighters merely stay put and begin to debate the validity of the Chief's decision.

Whoa! Who's that rolling up his sleeves to join in the firefighter's debate?

(Sorry, I couldn't resist!)

While you remain trapped and are now choking the firefighters have moved on to a debate about:

How the fire probably started and

Who started it and

How they should be punished when caught.

Then they remember that the Chief once said that, "It is foolish to rush into a fire without first addressing its cause," so they now refuse to follow his orders because:

He can no longer be trusted.

He is a liar.

Liar!

Hero!

Idiot!

Knowing that you are now likely near death, and amidst the demands of bystanders to "DO SOMETHING!" the Chief himself rushes in to save you. Does he succeed?

Let's say he does:

Half the firefighters think he is a hero.

Half the firefighters think it was merely the result of pure luck, rather than skill.

Some still think he acted stupidly and refuse to ever support him again.

The other building occupants have arrived home and gathered together to:

Complain about the fact that their own apartments have burned and

Bitch about the inconvenience of it all and

Bemoan their personal losses and

Demand to know who is responsible and

More importantly, who is going to compensate them for their loss and

Several people even comment on how stupid one would have to be to get trapped in a burning building.

Angry Rich Guy (Get it?)

The building owner has arrived and:

Is furious that his expensive building has been destroyed and

Blames both you and the entire fire department for his loss and

Demands swift and severe punishment for you all and

Rants about how unfair it all is because, Dammit! He worked hard to earn that building and he deserved it!

Now the neighbors have joined the crowd on the street to:

Complain about the noise and

Order several bystanders to move away from their building; asserting to any who linger that they are guilty of trespassing on private property and

Worry about how the ugly burned out building will affect their property values.

Let's stop here.

This ridiculous analogy can be applied to the President; the Stimulus Bill; the economy; the housing crisis; and even the general lack of compassion in our society today.

Everyone thinks its everyone else's fault.

No one believes they could have done anything wrong.

Everyone seems to feel they are entitled to an existence absent from any loss or inconvenience; citing this belief as the "American Dream" while asserting that it promises wealth for everyone who is just willing to work for it. (More on that later!)

One final comment:

What if the Chief didn't save you and instead you were both killed in the fire?

The reactions of the crowd would be exactly the same.

A Wedding Dress? Or an Attorney?

2009-03-07T00:52:00.027-05:00

Let's say I get bored (or drunk, or crazy, or lonely) tonight and decide I want to get married.

All I have to do is go down to a bar (or wherever) and find some willing guy and tomorrow we can get legally married. The law will sanction our frivolous loveless marriage; society will recognise it; and come next April we'll be filing our 2008 federal income taxes together.

But let's say we get really really drunk after the ceremony and my new idiot husband walks in front of a bus. In the hospital they'll ask, "Who is the next of kin?!" and I'll have every right to step up and assert my claim and control over what medical procedures he receives.

Let's say he dies. Do I shout out Bingo? I mean, I've just inherited his estate.

And then, a few weeks later when I discover that the awkward elbow-y sex we hurriedly had to consummate the relationship has left me with child, I need only to fill out the proper forms to ensure that said child receive the full Social Security survivor benefits due to him or her as the surviving child of my deceased husband.

I don't even have to know his middle name! But I can legally use his last name if I want to.

Yes, the sanctity of marriage is alive and well in the hands of the heterosexuals isn't it?

But let's say that instead of getting married, I accept an invitation to my neighbors' home for dinner. They have been together for 20 years. They are very much in love. Their home is beautiful and on the walls are pictures of their family. They would like to have children someday, but since they both have busy careers they are still working out the logistics of who will take leave from their career to be a stay-at home parent. See, they feel strongly that their child should be the first priority of their family. Both are also very active within our community and serve on local committees and boards.

If these friends were to ask me, "Why can't we get married?" I would not be able to even begin to formulate a single logical reason. The sad truth is that they cannot get married only because our society refuses to allow them that right.

Our country, with all of its wonderful freedoms, has decided to draw the line at allowing all of its adult citizens the freedom to marry whom they choose. In this great country of ours the love shared by two persons of the same sex cannot be legally sanctioned. We have enacted laws that guarantee the rights of individuals to choose their religion without fear of persecution or discrimination, yet we refuse to let everyone choose their partner with the same guarantees of freedom.

And don't even begin to talk to me about legal unions. Calling a marriage between two persons of the same sex a "civil union" is a separate, not an equal, right. There is absolutely no civil contract under existing law that can enact the same rights to a couple as the marriage contract does. None.

And yet ...

Prisoners can marry women they have met only via prison mail. Convicted rapists or murderers can marry. Sixteen year olds can marry (with parental approval) their first love. Divorced people can re-marry the same person they divorced - over and over again if they want. Perfect strangers can marry just for the hell of it. Gay men can marry gay women. Gay persons can marry straight persons.

If you really want to argue the sanctity of marriage read this.

There is no more sanctity in marriage. It has become a joke.

The divorce rate is through the roof.

One of our most popular TV shows is one where a single person makes out for weeks with numerous other single strangers (contestants of the opposite sex of course) and ultimately proposes to one of them leading the viewing public to celebrate his or her decision!

We talk of the "starter" marriage, as if it is merely practice for the marriages which will follow.

Sanctity of marriage my ass.

Perhaps if we did have the commonsense to allow for same sex marriages those who chose to participate might actually restore some dignity to the institution.

Have I Ever Mentioned I Collect Robots?

2009-02-11T22:51:00.010-05:00

The Stupidest Man I Ever Divorced: Part ...What... Four?

2009-01-29T23:31:00.007-05:00

Okay, so I've sort of been telling this story out of order, but that is kind of fitting considering my whole relationship with RB was never in the right order.

We seemed to move in together before we ever really dated. We broke up before I even knew we had conceived. We hired attorneys and "divorced" before LD was even born. Then, when I was finally over him and ready to get on with my life ... we got married. Eight years after the relationship ended we again hired attorneys and spent a ridiculous amount of money ending our actual marriage. And now, when we should be raising our son and exhibiting some sort of amicability (the kind that comes with time) we haven't spoken in over three years.

Is that fucked up or what?

I'd like to take responsibility for my part in it, but you know what? Since about 2001 none of this has been my fault at all. RB's hatred of me has grown with each passing year and, in my absence, he has chosen to take it out on LD.

But I digress....

Let's go back to the marriage part for a minute.

It was 1993 and LD was 6 months old. RB had demanded to meet LD and at the very moment he did his conscience burst through and he began to apologise. I mean, immediately upon laying eyes on LD for the first time. What followed was daily visits and daily apologies and pleas for my forgiveness and for the opportunity to make it up to us.

What can I say? I cannot lie and say I fell in love with him all over again. The truth of the matter is that I was scared and I felt guilty. I had no idea how I was going to provide for my son - considering I hadn't completed my degree and the high cost of daycare. I also felt like a total failure as a mother for not providing a two-parent home for my child - especially when the other parent was begging for it.

So, I gave in. I took what appeared to be the easy way. I told myself that love took many different forms and that as the father of my child I would certainly learn to love RB. The bitter part of me also felt that to marry RB was to somehow hold him just as accountable as I was. And Yes, there was a part of me that wanted to keep the "enemy" close and to protect LD from being shuffled between two households.

So, one Tuesday afternoon we went to a Justice of the Peace and laughed and rolled our eyes through a speed ceremony then went home and did laundry. So much for romance.

It was bad from the very beginning. I still held so much anger and RB was still so selfishly immature. I have no idea how we made it through that first year. I especially have no idea how RB tolerated it because while he was merely a self-absorbed dumb ass trying to be a husband; I was an absolute bitch. I remember one particular exchange during the first few months where I actually said, "You don't get it do you? I hate you." And what is really really sad is that I meant it.

I did hate him for the pain he had caused me. I hated him for denying his son for so many months. I hated him for all the lies he perpetuated. I hated him for all the embarrassment I suffered and for the shrew I had become. I also hated him for all the women he slept with while I was pregnant and his audacity to label me a slut. Hell, I hated him more each time I discovered another woman he was continuing to date - even after our marriage.

Eventually all the hate wore me down, and I think that for a while he even stopped all the other relationships on the side. I began to try to be a good (and loving) wife. I did all my wifely duties; kept a beautiful home, had dinner on the table every night, supported all of his endeavors towards a career and generally made every effort to become a couple with him.

I told myself I was "happy enough."

And I wasn't miserable. We had good times. We laughed. Our home was always one filled with friends and family. I did all kinds of part-time and consulting work to supplement our income. People even used to commend us for having made it through such bad times and for straying together. I guess from outward appearances we looked like a happy little family.To both our credits, I think for a while we both were really trying.

I loved being home with LD and being a mom. I would even say I loved being a wife.

But what I was losing more and more each day was myself. I no longer indulged any of my passions - many due to lack of finances. I gave up my dream of going to law school - or even ever finishing my first degree. I gave up my dream of more children; of travel; of a career. I gave up on ever feeling fulfilled or protected and settled for the semblance of security I had being married to RB.

And then, after 8 years things got bad again.

I came across a journal of RB's - he was always journaling - and read several hate filled pages about what a "spoiled rotten princess" he thought I was. His writing expressed a rage towards me that I did not understand. As I read that journal I thought of all the dreams I had given up; of how we barely made enough money to scrape by; of how I was living life at the lowest standard I had ever lived and I thought, "Spoiled? I don't even have a car? I don't even have health insurance!"

So, yeah, I got mad. I confronted RB that night and from that point on it was like his rage was unleashed. It was his turn to hate me.

Coincidentally, I also soon learned he was in a rapidly developing romantic relationship with a co-worker (whom he is now married to).

So, we spent an increasingly frightening and angry few months sorting it all out before I finally said, "No more." For both our sakes - but mostly for mine and LD's - we needed to split.

You see, for all those years i thought I was teaching (by example) a valuable lesson to LD. I thought I was teaching him about commitment and responsibility and perseverance. I thought he was learning that even good marriages have tough times, but that it was important to never give up.

But then I asked myself, "Do I want LD to be married because of obligation? Do I want him to feel as if love is not a choice or that commitment must involve great sacrifice?"

Hell no! I wanted him to believe in love and to know that people stayed together because they wanted to stay together; not because they had to. I wanted him to know the kind of love where the best part of your day is with that person; not before they come home. Love should make you strive to be a better person; not just a "good enough" one.

I couldn't teach him all the things I wanted him to believe if I wasn't a living example of the virtues I extolled!

So, I told RB I wanted a divorce, and that is when he truly started to hate me.

I had no job, no money, no car and no self-esteem.

And a soon-to-be ex husband who hated me.

I was terrified.

I Know, It's Face to Palm Time

2009-01-29T23:05:00.006-05:00

I cannot believe it has been so long since I have posted anything substantial. Believe me, I have had a ton of topics on my mind and (until now) actual free time. I've just been unable to focus on anything for longer than a couple of minutes lately. I don't know if it is my ADD (or, for that matter, if I even have ADD), or if it's my meds, or my exhaustion, or my stress, or maybe I'm just lazy.

I really don't know.

I do know that there are several people whom I have promised responses to and I hate letting them down.

A while back I bought a voice activated recorder to carry with me so that when I had an idea for a blog, or a school paper, or a freelance project, I could just record my brainstorming and then later transcribe it into a fully formed piece.

Well, I carried the recorder for about a week and even remembered to record a few things. Then, on the weekend I listened to it. Now, absent the original inspiration, it just played back as my stupid voice babbling at me, so I erased it all.

I kept the recorder by my bed, as I tend to have my most brilliant ideas when I'm trying to fall asleep. I recorded some more stuff and when I listened to it in the light of day it sounded like teen-aged melodrama.

I decided that the problem is that I'm too self conscious to listen to my own voice, so I've ditched the recorder.

Now I have tiny incomplete word documents all over my work and home computer. In fact, here are some of the topics:

1. A new installment of "The stoopidest Man I ever Divorced" with a special message for my friend from another Message board I frequent. (Holla anonymous friend!)

2. An opinion piece about volunteering and why you have no excuse not to.

3. An essay about the three traits that I despise (Greed, Lying and lack of Gratitude)

4. How to raise a grateful child (This is an old free lance piece that I never completed - Ugh.)

5. An essay about the state of the economy (and why you shouldn't panic)

6. An essay about the passing of Prop 8 - which is not so timely now, but still an issue very close to my heart.

7. My growing dislike of modern communication

There's lots more, but those are the ones currently in a state of being written.

Sooooo .... all I can say is keep checking back here because eventually I will put some new stuff up.

And, it might just be addressed to YOU.

Sometimes It's Okay to be Lonely ...

2009-01-17T20:53:00.005-05:00

Right?

RIGHT?!

Heh heh. I find myself kind of out of sorts tonight. I'm overwhelmed with all the stuff I need to do. I seem to be at a place in my life where I'm filled with ideas, yet empty of energy. It's weird, but I have so much to say, yet the focus to write it down escapes me. I've been on break from school for three weeks and have managed to get (almost) caught up on stuff around the house and office. If going back to school while also working full time and being a single mom has taught me anything; it's taught me to value my free time. These past few weeks have felt like a vacation! As such, I have spent a lot of time doing ...absolutely nothing.

I have channel surfed aimlessly; read for pleasure; watched a few movies; and even *gasp* walked around the mall. I don't even, like shopping, but there was something kind of fun about getting out there and being a part of the masses.

Maybe that's what's been missing from my life; that feeling of being a part of something.

See, in order to accomplish this whole school/work/life thang, I have to keep myself on a really really tight schedule. This means there's no time to go out with friends; to attend a movie; to host a dinner party; or even to have lengthy phone conversations.

Most of my closest friends live out of town, so communication is via phone and e-mail - both of which get back burner-ed because of school demands.

I keep telling reminding myself that this my last semester before taking some time off, so my self-imposed solitude should be ending soon.

But sometimes I do just get a bit lonely.

Holla Muller!

2008-11-19T18:08:00.015-05:00

Muller, Good Dog and me at the pony pasture late 80s

It's official: I have become alarmingly withdrawn from social contact. Not really a good place for an ex-agoraphobic to be, but at least this time my withdrawal is due to actual choice, rather than fucked up devastating biological disorder. This school stuff has truly taken over my life! Ack!

But I am already digressing ...

Today my best friend in the whole world called me at work to check on me and see if I was okay. It'll take a bit of background to understand why this was such a significant gesture.

Muller and I have been buds since we were 16 year old punk rockers hanging out at underground clubs. I don't even remember how we met. I could have been during a then frequent spray painting expedition - hell, it might even have been the very night my little crew almost got arrested for spray painting an actual breathing, though passed out, bum. We might have met during an also frequent late night foray into an abandoned (and reputably haunted) girls' school. It might even have been at the anarchy house we called Place One, where the fact that the balcony was about to collapse didn't stop us from crowding it on a hot summer night to load our wrist rockets with rocks to shoot at the windows of the newly constructed corporate high rise across the street. (Urbanization resentment at its finest folks!) Hee. Those were crazy times; they were scary times; but they were good times.

It doesn't matter how we met, just that we deemed each other cool enough to accept into our respective existences and have been besties ever since. Lately we find ourselves laughing as, in the middle of a conversation, we realise we are talking about our latest wrinkles or urinary problems and we both realise just how old - and thus uncool - we have become.

We have experienced over 25 years of shared milestones - marriage (I don't think either of us has ever approved of any guy the other dated!) pregnancy and childbirth (I wasn't pregnant the same time as Muller, but her favourite horse was pregnant when I was, therefore her past equine obstetrical experience served both Polly and me well. I still crack up about the time I was unsure if I was going into labour so I called my "vet" Muller, who asked in all seriousness, "Are your teats leaking?"

So, we have arrived at that comfortable point of friendship where we don't need to talk every day - or week - or sometimes month. Just knowing the other is out there - just a phone call away if a heart gets broken or someone needs bailed out - is enough.

So, that is why the phone call today was significant. We both dislike gabbing on the phone and we both lead such busy lives that we don't have the freakin' time to make a phone call - much less during the actual workday. But Muller read my last rant about being tired and overwhelmed and she was worried so she made it a point to call.

That, people, is what true friendship is all about. It's not what this particular blog entry was supposed to be all about, but as I typed tonight I found myself feeling really blessed to have her in my life so ....

This one's for you Muller - to let you know that I am fine and I that I love you!

These two photos are from an abandonded building exploration downtown in the mid 80s. I was posing artistically in my RayBans and Muller was, as always, smoking and looking cool.

UGH.

2008-11-14T00:00:00.005-05:00

I am officially tired.

Bone tired.

The kind of tired that the more eloquent poets call weary.

I am almost to the point of surpassing tired and just being done.

Yeah, I’m depressed too. Does it show? Heh heh.

I’ve always felt that if you just get up every day and do the best that you can do then that is enough. I believe that if you always respect the very least of those among us; if you stand up for what is right, rather than what is popular; and if you never ever feel that you are entitled to anything more than any else then you are doing all right.

But what about when that is not enough?

You get out what you put into life. As a devoted Buddhist I firmly believe in Karma. But you know what? I look all around this fucked up world and I see some really crap ass people getting ahead. I see good people losing their homes, their jobs and custody of their children. I see pathological liars succeeding not despite of their dishonesty, but because of it. Sure, it only makes sense that lying and stealing are wrong and we all grew up hearing the morality stories, fables and fairly tales where, in the end, the good guys win.

Well, I'm here to tell ya folks: That's not always how it works out.

Good people get screwed. Life throws you curve balls. When you think you have it all figured out is when God laughs - remember?

I believe that living a life where you have no secrets and no shame is the only way to have a life that is truly yours. You own it; you can be proud of it, and nobody can take that away from you. That is a life where you can look into a mirror and consider the person looking back at you to be a friend you are proud of. I had finally reached that point in my life and was experiencing such peace. Sigh ...

I’m really digressing here ….

My point is that a series of events have resulted in my being at a really negative place in my mind right now. I've lost the ability to find the positive in my current situation. I mean, I'm alive! That's pretty cool, huh? I have a great kiddo and the best cat in the world. I have a job, and a car, and a really awesome collection of books ...

But it seems like being a decent person isn't cutting it. I feel like I haven't done, or am not doing, enough.

This too shall pass. In the end, it always does. I'll wallow in this current self pity; withdraw a lot; and then, I'll find the strength to get back up and start fighting the good fight again. I promise I will!

But right now?

I am tired.

The American Dream is Alive Again!

2008-11-05T12:06:00.010-05:00

I am so proud of my country today! A renewed sense of pride that I haven't been able to feel in a very long time. When Michelle Obama made her comment about how she was finally able to be proud to be American many people attacked her. But you know what? I completely understood where she was coming from.

Of course I have always been American, and always been proud of what America is supposed to stand for. For a long time, however, this country has NOT exemplified the principals we claim to hold dear. For the past 8 years we have been led by an administration headed by an out-of-touch and ethnocentric leader with an agenda representing only a small portion of our public. On top of that - and as a particular pet peeve of my own - that same leader could not even be bothered to learn the proper pronunciation of the very language of our country. Yes, Bush appeared to the world as the stereotypical dumbfuck redneck American hillbilly without any true grasp of the issues of the world today. The fact that we let him steal his first term and then voted the damned thief into a second term further cemented the "gullible America" image to the world.

And if that weren't bad enough, we then held ourselves out as the standard by which the rest of the world should measure themselves. Well, the rest of the world looked at us and laughed. They laughed at our fear of "nu-Q-lar" weapons; they laughed at our "freedom fries" and then they got mad. Mad at our superior bullying attitude; mad at our disregard for the events of the world; and mad that we retaliated against a terrorist strike by invading the wrong country. Then, they began to laugh at us again as we drained our country's finances and bankrupted our nation in an effort to stay where we weren't even wanted.

When it came time to elect a new President, some geniuses decided it would be a good idea to go to the furthest borders of our country and pluck out an obscure (though beautiful), inexperienced, and not very educated woman and hold her out as best choice for our second in command.

At his point, we even began to laugh at ourselves.

Thankfully, we stood up and we finally said, "No." Instead, we chose a man whose very ethnicity represent the melting pot that we are. Barack Obama epitomizes the American dream in many ways. He is of mixed race and heritage; therefore he has experienced first-hand the racism and discrimination that still exists today. Indeed, he experienced it during his very campaign.

He grew up in a non-traditional family, therefore he knows that the traditional definition of the nuclear family is long over. He knows the pain of divorce - which is so prevalent in our society. He understands the struggles of a single mom who has to support her family alone because he has watched his own motherwork hard to provide for him. He has, most likely, experienced the disappointment of being told, "No, I'm sorry son, we cannot afford it."

He wasn't born with a silver spoon in his mouth, and I'm sure he has, at times, gone without. But despite his disadvantages he worked hard and proved that even a poor biracial kid from a broken home can gain entrance into one of our most esteemed Ivy League Universities. he knows that sometimes it is not always about who you know, but sometimes really is about how hard you work. He broke his first racial barrier by becoming the first African American to achieve the prestigious position as President of the Harvard Law Review.

And, guess what? Having been a child of the 1970s he, like so many other of his peers, did experiment with alcohol, pot, and cocaine. More importantly, he owns and admits these experiences so common to American college culture.

Throughout his career he has consistently focused on change at the grass roots level. He is blessed with the gift and ability to motivate people for a united cause. His candidacy addressed the very public he sought to represent rather than the interests of the elite. He asked us to hope, but he also acknowledge the high price of hope. He asked for our help - just $5 sometimes - and in the end we funded the most expensive campaign in history. Imagine that? Asking the average citizen to help without cloaking it in any complicated ruse. It's amazing what we can do for our country when we are simply, and honestly, asked.

Think about it.

Do you think this little bi-racial boy from a poor family was in any way groomed to be president? He had no Senator uncle, or a grandfather with presidential ties; no wealthy family intent on sending him to the white house.

We did that ourselves America. And we should be very very proud.

Muse: Thy Name is Stress

2008-11-01T04:08:00.004-04:00

It always goes like this! I spend weeks without any inspiration to write and then, when I need to be writing very important (but completely un-fun) academic papers the creative ideas just come pouring out!

The whole past summer flew by and i didn't write a single essay here. AND IT IS AN ELECTION YEAR!!!! It's not like I haven't had a million things to say. Those who know me well can confirm that I've been known to write lengthy blogs about the election of PTA presidents at my son's school. They remember that I campaigned for Bill Clinton while in labor! They remember that I used to try and initiate dinner conversation about Bills that hadn't even been completely written yet! So why have I let all this exciting Obama/McCain stuff go on without comment?

On top of that, Angelina Jolie has added, like, a dozen more kids to her brood without comment from me. Have I gone soft?!

Ellen got married and Ididn't write a single word! (Though I was so touched by her wedding video that I teared up a little bit.)

Palin alone has given me sooo much material I could write a stand up routine! But you know what? EVERYBODY is talking about the election and that is sooo because political nerds like me now actually have real people to talk to!

So, I guess I just haven't felt the need to write about it.

1980 vs. 2008

2008-08-10T10:53:00.005-04:00

Little Dog is about to turn 16. It's sort of puzzling, the lack of enthusiasm he and his friends are displaying about this momentous birthday (both his and their own.) When I was turning 16 I all but parked at the Tag Agency the night before so I could obtain my driver's license as soon as possible. But these kids are just kind of "meh" about the whole driving deal. I have friends with kids who are 18 and still haven't moseyed down to the DMV. LD displays a definite interest in driving, but it's not all consuming as it was with me and my friends.

I also have to admit that LD and crew haven't done half the crazy things I had done by the time my 16th rolled around. I was certainly not a "bad" kid, nor were my friends. But by 14 I had already been drunk (and tearfully confessed the same to my mom the very next day, so strong was my guilt.) I had also smoked pot, hitchhiked, and I'm pretty sure I had probably done a hit of speed or two... And I was a fairly shy and sheltered straight A kid.

I am not proud of the above, nor do I have any excuse. I can offer explanations; like the fact that my best friend's mom was an established artist who, in fact, cultivated a very nice pot garden for the family on the roof of her studio. It was she who gave me my first drink of Vodka; my sputtering choking reaction causing her great mirth. She wasn't a bad person; just a bit bohemian. When I spent the night at my friend's house we would walk down to the Brookside bar to find her and ask permission (and money) to order a pizza. Then we would hitchhike up and down the strip just because we were bored.

My own mom did the absolute best she knew how to do in raising me, but there was some of her own upbringing she couldn't, and didn't know she should, overcome. Divorce had left her a single mom, something that in 1964 was embarrassing, uncommon, and led to her leading a very stressful life playing the both the role of mother and father. This meant she worked her butt off, put in a ton of overtime, and in her "free" time she cleaned the house, did the repairs and mowed the yard. There wasn't a lot of time to hang out with me. Most of our bonding occurred during the 30 minute commute home every week day.

Bonding is probably not the correct word. Parenting is more apt. Like any good parent she attended all the parent teacher conferences and school programs, so there was no reason to talk about school. She oversaw my Dr.'s appointments; taking me in for the obligatory shot of penicillin Dr. Fanning always gave when mom took me in for a fever or sore throat. Therefore, there was never a reason to ask me how I was feeling. Emotions were what you displayed, but never talked about, when I was young. When I reached puberty - or at least the age it was expected - Mom ordered a starter kit from Kotex and handed it to me when it arrived. All I remember thinking was, "Ew," and I stuffed it in the back of the linen closet. I guess she assumed the films the girls were shown at school addressed any questions I might have.

Mom was a good southern girl who was raised with the understanding that good southern girls never talked about sex or bodily functions. As such, I was pretty clueless and VERY guilt ridden during my pubescent years.

Because of my own ignorance and upbringing, I vowed to raise my own children armed with all the age appropriate information they needed. I won't embarrass LD by repeating anecdotes about his experiences, but I will say that I used every question as an opportunity to inform. I am fully aware that at times this embarrassed him in the usual "Gads mom!" kind of way. I am also pretty sure that some (albeit embarrassed) part of him is pretty grateful.

I remember when I was studying for my Doula certification, which involved more than one birthing film. LD was only 4 at the time, but he watched the babies being born with me and, perhaps because of the innocence of a child, he reacted with the same amazed reverence of the birth process that I felt. I was still married to RB at the time, and will never forget when he came into the dining room where I was studying and (LD was pretending to study) and freaked out when LD showed him a picture of a nursing mom and commented, "Look Daddy, she has hot dog boobs!" (To his credit, the woman's breasts were pretty elongated.) Anyway, RB was the kind of guy who couldn't look at a naked breast without feeling funny, and with whom I refused to ever watch an R rated movie because of his sophomoric reaction to nudity.

RB was out of our daily lives by the time LD was 8, so I was on my own. It was me who had the "Things That Are Happening to Your Body" talk; the "How Babies are Made" talk; who taught him how to shave and managed to answer no small amount of questions about a particular body part I myself did not have.

So now he is just a few days away from 16 and I think I've done a pretty good job. In fact, I think LD is far more mature than any 16 year old boy I've ever met. I trust that he has never inhaled or imbibed. I know which of his friends, all girls I might add, who have. He knows of my own mistakes and understands that rather than my experiences being justification for his own, they are ways I can teach him from a position of knowledge. He knows I consider myself lucky to have made it through adolescence and to adulthood unscathed - no past STDs, drug addictions, accidental overdoses, or drunken accidents. He knows that I was intelligent, mature and 28 yet his own birth was unplanned, and while I have no regrets about this, it did change my life and postpone certain plans.

As a parent I certainly don't think I have it all perfect. I wing it a lot. I just parent with two very distinct guidelines: 1. Knowledge is power and 2. Nothing is accomplished by dishonesty. The concept of consequences is pretty important in my method also.

So, while I hear other parents of teens wrought with worry about the freedom a driver's license brings, I don't have the same fears. I may find it a bit different that he's not counting the minutes and camping at the DMV, but I am proud that, in this, he is taking his time until he is ready. If he does this with all of the rites of passage to come, then I will have done my job right.

More Semantics

2008-05-01T21:39:00.004-04:00

Yes, my last two posts were pretty boring, but some of you have asked what is keeping me so busy, so I offered a couple of short examples of my academic writing. Sort of. I actually tried to un-academize the papers in many ways to make them more interesting, while still maintaining the thesis. Boring? Yeah, but I am such a nerd I find that sort of writing to be kinda fun.

Okay, so today Bojo sent me some information on a local social service organization for teens that seems to be doing some great work. She is very passionate about becoming involved with them and I support her (and the organisation) wholeheartedly. While pointing out the wide range of programs, however, she mentioned something that gave me pause for thought. The organisation offers programs for "GLTQ" teens. G and L I have no problem with, though technically "gay" and "lesbian" are kind of redundant. Transgendered? Okay, I understand the inclusion. But "Questioning"? Really?

The use of the term "questioning" troubles me because it undermines the whole concept of sexual preference being inherent, rather than a choice. If one is questioning, doesn't that imply an uncertainty? And if there is uncertainty, then doesn't that in turn, imply a decision to be made?

I can understand a young person who feels attracted to the same sex and therefore dealing with the whole, "Wow? Am I really gay?" conundrum. But wouldn't that be included in the umbrella of of G, or L, or even in a basic human sexuality discussion?

Nope. I'm pretty sure that he use of "questioning" is a step backwards for gay rights.

One other thing about this group that troubled me was the idea that it is not just for "at risk" teens because, after all all teens are at risk.

I beg to differ. An at risk teen is one who, due to a poor home situation, or lack of education, or physical or mental disorder, or lack of role models, or history of abuse - I could go o and on, but you get the picture. At risk teens are at risk specifically because of some troubling aspect of their life.

The teen years may be dramatic, hormonal, emotional and confusing times, but I disagree that that they are troubling. Peer pressure is there, sure, but its mere presence does not set a "risky" stage.

I think a teen who has been raised to have a healthy self esteem; who feels secure and confident that they responsible people to protect and to care for them, and if they have positive healthy role models - they are not at all at risk. Let's not give up on teens in general and go ahead and just accept that they are all set up for prolems.

And before you go and get all irate with me, Bojo, I want to clarify that I do support the organisation.

I just have some problems with their rhetoric.

In an Effort to Balance My Karma

2008-04-26T13:57:00.009-04:00

My last post was about all the stupid things that annoyed me last week, which is a negative karma to put out there.

In an effort to balance that negativity I will now post about all the great things in my life last week.

1. Little Dog. My son is incredible. I am truly blessed with him. He is kind, funny, moral, compassionate, intelligent and not bad looking. I enjoy being a part of his life. His friends are all great kids whom I also enjoy being around.

2. Furry. I love this impish little boy! He lifts my mood whenever he's around. He fascinates me as he learns about this world. His smile brightens the room and his tiny hand in mine makes me feel as if I am the luckiest person in the world.

3. My new computer. It rocks!

4. My hero, Jen, whose husband I have adopted as a brother and whose children I have come to love. She inspires me and makes me want to be a better person.

5. Muller. (Holla Muller!) I could not have a better best friend if I designed one myself. She loves me and she also kicks my ass when it needs kicking. I know if I found myself stranded in a foreign place with no money she would laugh at me, lecture me, and ultimately help me to find my way home. She diagnoses my cat's ailments, keeps me from adopting a stray dog every month, sends me Eminem calendars and bagged fish products and has counseled me through every heartbreak I have ever endured. She has also almost been arrested with me, thrown a chicken at me, taken by best whiskey and used it to seduce a guy, stood by my hospital bed and told me I smelled (Ha!) and was one of the first persons to hold my newborn son. We also take (took) care of each other's moms and share a mutual self righteousness and desire to remain "cool."

6. I was able to help restore the sense of dignity to a couple of men who felt they had been mistreated. Client confidentiality does not allow for me to elaborate, but suffice it to say that if people would just spend 5 minutes explaining things to someone who doesn't understand than the world would be a would be a much better place.

Other random great things (in no particular order): Brenda's friendship, Angela's help at work, Johnnie's honest delight, John's face when he talks about his son, Noah's "we're in this together" solidarity, Jake's mom, Dr. Connie's reassurance, Beverly's sincere goodness, Jason’s goofiness, Julie Chin perking up my mornings with her weather forecasts, John Stewart's humour, the nice EBay seller who let me off the hook, Eloise's desire to make people smile, Target, Jack Johnson’s music, LD's photography, Winnie's birthday, Corey's joyous aura, my 2 new Gap tops, my new wheel covers, Tim's free service, Baby Mama trailers that crack me up, a gift and flowers from my employer, new softball team shirts, the The 2008 NCheeseAA Tournament Bracket, my improving Sharepoint server and html coding skills, and on and on and on ...

I'm Cranky For Sure

2008-04-26T11:50:00.009-04:00

I try really hard to say only what I mean. As an armchair (or at least academic) Linguist, I take language very seriously. Therefore I do not ever claim to "hate" something. In fact, I cannot think of anything worth expending the negative energy to hate. Even RB.

I also do not say, "I cannot stand" or "I will not tolerate" because time and experience has taught me I can stand quite a bit of adversity and I have tolerated some things that surprised even me.

I have, however, realised that I say "stupid" a lot when referring to something that has annoyed me. Not so much people, as while there are some ignorant people, I would rarely consider someone stupid.

Okay, so I abuse the term stupid. It was a really long week last week, and I am pretty stressed these days due to overwhelming work at the firm and my current finals. (Thesis? What thesis?) When things are this busy I do not have the time to properly meditate, and after a while it really shows.

In an effort to rid myself of some negative energy I am going to work out my current stupid baggage here for you all to share.

I give you Stupid Things That Annoyed Me Last Week:

1. The overwhelming sense of entitlement now prevalent in our society. Newsflash people: No one really owes you anything. make your choices and then live with them. Period. I recently encountered a woman who was angry because her (adult) son cannot get a job because of a "gun charge" on his record. She claims it is not fair. Um. Yeah, have you head about terrorism? The rate of crime in America? School shootings? Who wouldn't be hesitant to employ someone with a criminal record for illegal fire arms? Or how about the person who complained that they can only meet with their attorney at 9 am; cannot make an appointment in advance; and whose arrest was "unfair" because the police should be out there arresting "true criminals"? Guess what? if you were arrested for a crime that makes you a criminal. There really are no other requirements than that. And for the record: that trial lawyer you want to meet with at 9? he's IN COURT at 9. Argh! Oh, and lastly: If your rented home is being foreclosed on you should probably focus on finding another place to live; not finding an attorney to try and sue the person who is losing their property to LACK OF MONEY. Sure, it sucks to be you, but it sucks just as much to be your landlord. Sheesh!

2. Christians. Look, I have my religion and you have yours. I don't expect you to believe what I believe, so could you extend me the same courtesy? And don't ask me if I don't care if I am going to hell because I DON'T BELIEVE in hell. And I don't have concerns about satan either because: Ditto. The above request goes for my son too. Even I don't agree with all of his beliefs, I acknowledge that he is the one who has to live by them, not me. You can pray for us all you want, because positive prayer is never a bad thing. I pray for lots of people. But just because you go to church three times a week, teach Sunday school, and pray out loud in restaurants before eating does not make you a better person than me. You might actually be a better person than me, but it's not because of you memorized the script.

3. Telephones. Yes, they are wonderful inventions, but if I do not answer at 8:00 I will also probably not answer at 8:02, 8:13, 8:43 etc. Listen to the answering machine. Not only does it say we can't come to the phone, but it even explains why. And right before you leave your message shouting at me to pick up it says WE will call YOU back. It does not ask you to try repeatedly or promise any second chances. Oh, and if you are my sister: dinner is NOT an emergency.

4. Do not call me stupid or expect me to drop everything to try go an observe how right you are. I am pretty good at allowing for the fact that I may be wrong and really, usually I don't care.

5. Texting. If you are an employee who has been assigned to help me let me be clear: Texting your girlfriend does not help me. If we are dining together, or if you are visiting me at my home please understand that I really truly feel that if you would rather be in contact with someone else not only do I understand, but I am all for you just going ahead and leaving. I don't care what anyone texted to you and I really don't want to hold my thoughts until you have texted a sexy message to your lover. I am seriously thinking of instituting a "check your cell phone at the door" policy in my house.

6. MySpace. Ugh. Anyone who knows me should understand that I DON'T CARE. I really do not want to go into the whys of it. What? You want me to? Okay. I think it is bullshit. I am a HUGE proponent of face-to-face interactions - sort of Amish about it in fact. I use the Internet as much as anybody else, but my friends are all people I have formed relationships with in the actual physical world. I do not want a MySpace. I do to want to see yours. I do not want all the tracking cookies and temp files on my computer from when you check yours because you can't go one fucking hour without doing so. Yes, this includes LDs friends. Yes, this includes co-workers. Yes, this includes family members. If you are into it that is fine. I'm glad it gives you so much joy. But until you post a site with actual writing on it and not a million .jpgs I have no interest in visiting it.

7. EBay. Okay. I recently went through a belated EBay obsession. I got some really good deals. I also was too stupid to read the fine print on one and ended up purchasing an antiquated VHS video camera. I am grateful that the seller allowed me out of the deal with minimal cost. I also bought an iPod. Really fair price. Great condition. I even read all of the fine print, which included information from Apple. When the iPod arrived it took me a couple of hours to figure out it is a very realistic looking fake. I had to measure the fucking logo and compare it with an authentic to figure it out. Now, I am angry and must spend time I do not have engaging in dispute resolutions and very likely legal action. Oh, and I still need a new iPod.

8. Professors who don't take teaching seriously. I have been working on a mini thesis, which is an independent study very necessary for my degree. I have heard nada from the professor. Almost 50 pages of work; a draft of the final, and it is one week until the semester is over. Last week, after joining in as one of the numerous complainants and contacting the Dean, I received a short group e-mail from the professor. He stated our papers are graded and we will have them this weekend. Gee thanks asshole. Your guidance through this legal class has been invaluable - only in that it has no fucking value at all. I just paid hundreds of dollars to take a class in which I learned nothing new and was not even afforded the dignity of acknowledgement or a return e-mail. I'd better get an a for my troubles and at this point I really don't care if my work was deserving. I have a fucking 4 point and I'll be damned if I'll lose it over your disregard. I will also NOT spend next week revising a semesters worth of research and rewriting anything past my draft because the time to speak up (if the work was lacking) was a few weeks ago. I'm done.

9. Renaissance Art. I love Renaissance Art. My dream man is a Renaissance man. If I were independently wealthy I would quit my job and move to Italy and spend the rest of my life drinking in all the beauty. If I were merely rich I would quit my job and spend my days reading and researching the period. It fascinates me. But I am not rich and I do have three very serious academic papers to write on the subject; papers which must be completed lest I lose all my scholarship and financial aid, and I am absolutely overwhelmed and paralysed about them. It is the fall out of letting my confidence be destroyed and my time be wasted by a very selfish person I was involved with when I took the class. Please pray for me to complete them - even you Christians.

10. Grocery and Gas Prices. A minimum wage employee must now spend over an entire day's salary to fill up his/her car with gas. (I also think the current state of minimum wage laws is stupid!) Now they are rationing rice. RICE?! I don't even eat meat and I can still barely afford groceries. Death row inmates are eating better than the working poor. This is just wrong. Fucking oil companies.

11. Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama. SHUT UP. Can we fucking have a nominee that gives a shit about the party? Hillary, you are an intelligent and powerful woman, but you are fucking it up for all of us. If you truly care as much as you weepingly claim to start using your power for good rather than for victory. And Obama? Could you please remember that you are actually human and not some righteous demi-god. If I don't see some true emotion soon I will agree with the conspiracy theorists who think you are the freakin' antichrist. I read Left Behind and you are looking more and more like Nicholai.

And for an even dozen:

12. Thomas Beatie. Dude. Stop it. You have ovaries and a womb. You are a woman.

He's NOT a Pregnant Man!

2008-04-21T04:44:00.007-04:00

I don't know why this story bugs me so much, as it doesn't affect my life in any way.

But it does bug. HARD.

The story goes this way: Tracy first felt she was trapped in the wrong gendered body during her twenties. She felt more comfortable being a male and wanted society to respect the way she felt inside. In order to facilitate this she began to wear men's clothing. She then had her breasts surgically removed and began taking testosterone in order to cultivate a more masculine appearance. She grew a beard.

Then she married her female partner.

How the hell could that happen?!

I am a huge proponent of same-sex marriage, so it is not any kind of sexual morality issue for me. But it is a legal issue. Thomas may look like a man and live like a man, but she is is NOT A MAN. Hello, she's PREGNANT! Men do not get pregnant and in case you need a reminder as to why, it's because they don't have uteri!

Artificial insemination? No problem. Gay marriage? No problem. Lesbianism? Transgendered? Again, no problem.

Manipulating your sexual identity in order to bypass the law and be legally married? HUGE problem!

Hell, we cannot even guarantee civil rights for homosexuals. We are certainly not ready to allow for unisexually gendered people. One does not get to pick and choose the attributes of his or her gender to serve their immediate purposes. Thomas wanted to be a man in order to get married, but he stated that he always knew he wanted to have children. Sorry dude, you can't have it both ways.

Nope. Thomas and his wife seem like genuinely nice people, and their relationship is certainly a committed and loving one. Their baby is obviously wanted and will be raised in a loving environment.

But Thomas is not only not a pregnant man, but she is not a man period. She is woman who lives as a man; a woman who had her breasts removed; a woman who took testosterone in order to grow a beard; and a woman who even managed via testosterone, to grown a penis which she uses to have intercourse with her wife.

I don't mind calling Thomas "him" but I do mind that somehow, some way he was able to manipulate the law and to legally become a man while maintaining his female integrity via ovaries, fallopian tubes, a uterus and a vagina.

If only all the pre and post operative transsexuals had it so easy! If only all the same sex couples could simply claim that one of them is the opposite gender and thus be legally married!

Thomas is not a pregnant man. He is a pregnant lesbian and his marriage is illegal. Is it wrong? No. But it is still illegal.

Oh, and it pisses me off!

It Pains Me to Admit This...

2008-04-20T01:02:00.003-04:00

...but I am American Idol's bitch.

Yes, that's right, I am. And it is not because this season, rather than watching the show for its inherent snark value, I actually found myself caring about a particular contestant.

Okay, not caring so much as lusting after.

I quickly nipped that in the bud once I figured out that not only am I old enough to be his mother, but since he is old enough to be a father that makes me old enough to be his kids' grandmother.

Ew.

That didn't stop me from downloading several of his performances from iTunes however. Even when he covered Iz's What a Wonderful World, one of my top favourite songs of all time, leading Little Dog to exclaim disdainfully, "Gah! He's doing that song you want played at your funeral!" my enjoyment of his music did not wane.

No, that is not why I am AI's Bitch. This is why:

I downloaded that stupid Mariah Carey song that she sang on the show.

Gaaaaah! I know! What is wrong with me?! I used to be cool - honest! Mariah Carey? There is a part of me that is so embarassed about this it refuses to go out in public with me. That part now stays home reading Bukowski and listening to vintage Cramps.

This new Mariah liking (note: not loving) part hops in the car, pops in a mix cd and sings along with Jason Castro from American Idol. Loudly.

This new me carpools the teens around and owns more than a few items of clothing with an elastic waist. This me recently let herself be talked into purchasing several items from the Clinique lady - the same type clinique lady I always tried so hard to avoid that I used to make RB go to buy the one product I used. This time I actually asked for her card, which I then placed in the filofax and put in my "mom" purse.

My name is Yellow Dog and I am officially middle aged.

Gaaaaah!

What's a Buddhist to Do?

2008-04-19T16:21:00.001-04:00

Little Dog recently told me about an exchange that took place during his second hour Science class.

For some reason the teacher asked, with the obvious expectation of receiving no "yes" answers, if anyone in the class was Buddhist.

Little Dog was the only person who raised his hand and with confidence stated that his mom was Buddhist. (Note that he didn't rock the boat by admitting that he, for the most part, is also.)

His admission led to a discussion of how "weird" it is that his mom is Buddhist - especially since we are not Asian.

Yeah. Racist in middle America High School much?

Anyway the reason for bringing it up in the first place was to discuss a recent article in our local paper that was about a deformed (two-faced) baby whom the "Buddhists" believe to be a "God."

To his credit Little Dog did assert that Buddhism is not a polytheistic religion, but he was outnumbered by those who, still shocked about my Buddhism, refused to hear any logic. Even when he (correctly) pointed out that it sounded like Hinduism to him.

When Little Dog first told me about this exchange I was irritated, not at the teacher, but at the stupid local newspaper for its lack of fact checking. A cursory review of the article, however, indicated that it clearly stated it is the Hindus who believe the deformed baby to be a god.

I didn't bother to read the rest of the article because I neither care what the Hindus believe, nor do I want to see a two faced baby. My irritation turned towards the teacher who allowed the original discussion to take place. Hell, it's reasons like this that I agree religion should not be taught in the heartland's public schools. It's not because I have anything against children learning theology, but rather that any theological beliefs outside of the dominant Christian paradigm that exists in this part of our country will be misrepresented. I considered contacting the teacher to let him know of my offense at the comments. Then I remembered that it is Little Dog, and not I, who has to deal with the drama that is high school in America. Since, according to him, classmates are already attempting to "save" or "convert" him from his mother's heresy, I decided it was in our best interests to let it go.

I did tell him to let the teacher know I was annoyed, which he did the following day. He reported that the teacher's response was to say, "Great. I'm gonna get a phone call about this aren't I?" after which he mischievously responded that he would "meditate" about it. Ha! While I can't tolerate prejudice or bigotry, I do have a great respect for snark.

So, it's all good again.

That is, unless the two-faced baby really is a god. Then we're all in trouble!

My Awesome Son

2008-03-30T16:29:00.007-04:00

There are times when Little Dog will say something that makes me say, "Man, I really do have a teenager now." You know, the requisite eye rolls and responses of "Fiiiiine Mommmm"

But then there are other times when he will say something that reminds me I have raised exactly the kind of young man I wanted to raise; the kind that makes me burst with mama pride. Like recently, on the way to school, he said, "Mom, is it okay if I go make sandwiches for the homeless before school Thursday morning?"

This was not something I had particularly pushed, but merely an opportunity he came across. Never mind that, in the back of my mind, I had always wanted to find an opportunity to somehow do something hands on to help the homeless. He has a friend who spends Thursday mornings before school making sandwiches to be distributed to our city's homeless population and he wanted to help too. Yay him!

I have always tried to live a life that exemplifies giving back. He knows nothing different than donating outgrown clothes to charity; picking a cause each holiday season which will help support someone less fortunate; and standing up for what he believes to be right. He has paid for his own membership to Street Cats, a feral cat rescue organisation, since he was 8 years old and began receiving an allowance. He is a champion gift giver who always thinks of the recipient and chooses accordingly. When the annual Autism Foundation fund raiser rolls around he solicits donations and volunteers to work the race - without even being asked. He has never passed a collection jar without pausing to read what it was for and more often than not, to drop some coins in.

Though I am Buddhist and have long believed in Karma, I have never forced Buddhism upon him. His father, however, is a born again Christian who regularly encourages him to adopt the same belief system.

But I have a thinking child, who possesses the intelligence to seek answers and to process what he sees for himself. When he came to me a few years ago and proclaimed (as so many teenagers do at some point) that he was "Not religious" I told him only that it would be a very difficult life he led if he had no spiritual belief system by which to process the events of the world. I think it is important to have a belief system which will comfort you during times of grief or sadness.

I have never prevented him from exploring any religion, although I do have really really strong beliefs about evil and negativity thus there are certain things that are not allowed in my home.
Just a few block from our home is a new-age bookstore owned by a self proclaimed Satanist. It is almost unheard of for me to NOT go to a bookstore, but I have avoided that one my entire life. As such, I have explained my reasons to LD and he agrees. Better to steer clear of such places than to invite a negative energy unawares. He has a recently developed a fascination with Ghosts and (supposedly) haunted places. He also knows how I feel about such things and although he laughs at me for my fears, he respects my views.

It's not just an "evil" energy I avoid. It is a negative energy period. For example TV. I look at shows like Jerry Springer or Cops and all I see is someone's misfortune being presented as entertainment. Reality shows like Survivor or Big Brother revolve around not just competition, but greed. That is simply not what I want to call entertainment.

But back to the sandwiches. On Thursday he made sandwiches and the next day he found $5 on the ground as he walked into school. When I picked him up he was so excited to tell me about the Karma he had experienced. I stopped at the bank to deposit a check and he noticed that they were taking donations for the Heart Association. Without a second thought (or any suggestion from me) he gave them his found money as a donation.

Isn't it easy to see why I am so proud of my son?

Jesus, the Amish and Gun Laws: Just a Typical Easter Dinner

2008-03-24T04:35:00.005-04:00

I have mentioned that my family likes to eat, but I forgot to add that we also like to have really heated discussions while we do so. Yesterday's Easter dinner was no exception.

Before everything had even been served my dad had initiated a discussion of the current presidential candidates and claimed they were all worthless. That was not surprising at all as my dad has never liked a single candidate - or president for that matter - that I can recall. The sole exception was Ross Perot, whose campaign signs dad displayed liberally in his yard for almost a year. Go figure.

Bojo, who has been the leader of the elect Hillary parade since before she even announced her candidacy has the annoying habit of never participating in political debate with me. Therefore, she sat mostly silent throughout this portion of the meal. She didn't even bust a vein when dad announced that Hillary was unfit to be president because she is a woman. I was left in the very awkward position of defending Hillary Clinton. Gah!

The discussion then moved on to the morality of abortion. I don't know how this happens, it just does in my family. Abortion flew by and capital punishment became a brief topic. I must say I was impressed that my usually opinionated father was actually pausing to hear the responses of others. Not that my stoopid family was being very participatory in the discussion up to this point. (Yeah, I'm talkin' to YOU Bojo!)

Then, somehow we arrived at the subject of gun ownership. Now "my dad and guns" could easily be the focus of hours of therapy for me, but for now let's just say that he has always had one ... some ... er, probably a lot. For over 40 years he has worked in law enforcement ... sorta. Anyway, Bojo suddenly woke from her stupor and decided to loudly proclaim her commitment to shooting anyone who came in her house uninvited; which led me to express outrage (all over again) at the fact that she has a gun in the house with Furry; which led all of my NRA -card- carrying-trigger-happy-gun-freak family members to begin all at once touting the virtues of handguns. At one point my dad asked, as an aside, what kind of gun Bojo had and without missing a beat in the general debate she answered in an equal aside that she had a 38 special.

Okay, I do not, have not and will not ever own a gun. I find it logically, morally and spiritually wrong for me. For one thing, I know enough about gun rules to know that you never shoot unless you aim to kill and I could never do that. At least I am not as idiotic as the stupid (mostly women) I have heard say they would shoot someone in the leg or even worse, fire a warning shot. Gads. Even pacifist me knows the only warning sound should be the cocking of the hammer and by then it's already all over.

Anyway, back to our Easter dinner.

As I was proclaiming the above my step-mom was asserting that they had guns in their home their whole lives and their kids never found or messed with them. ( I could have pointed out that those children also no longer speak to them, but it didn't seem entirely relevant to the topic.) This led to a convoluted discussion of just how cunning and capable children really are and my dad claiming that Furry could never reach, for example, the top of the china cabinet in Bojo's dining room. At that point I threw out a hundred dollar bet that he could and dad and I were just about to call the toddler in and send him scurrying up the built in bookshelves - or at least see just how far he could get. Thankfully (in hindsight) we got distracted within our heated debate because in response to "what would you do if someone broke in" I said, "I'd let them take whatever the hell they wanted because no material possession is worth a human life."

Here's where it gets really insane.

Dad invoked, not the constitution, but the Bible as authority on the matter and said (No shit, I couldn't make this stuff up) that Jesus said to protect your home and your possessions.

"With guns?!" I shrieked.

"Yes!" my dad asserted.

"You're telling me Jesus said to shoot people?!" I asked incredulously.

"Yes! It's in the Bible!" and here he quoted some scripture I have NEVER heard that involved Jesus whipping people. I kid you not. Then he told some other biblical story about Jesus having gone into a den of sinners - maybe gamblers - and driven them out with whips.

"But did he then steal their stuff? Or shoot them?!" I asked.

"Of course not," my dad said.

"So what does Jesus have to do with robbers and guns?!" I asked, my voice just as loud as everyone else, which was by now quite loud.

"They used to STONE PEOPLE," my dad said.

"JESUS?"I asked.

"Yes! They STONED and WHIPPED....."

At this point I heard my nephew, who is currently studying to be a minister crack up. He knows more about scripture than the entire rest of the family combined, but he had wisely chosen to avoid this whole conversation by watching basketball in the other room. That is, until our shouting drowned out the game.

Anyway, somehow we all calmed down and caught our breath, which gave me the perfect opportunity to step up on my Amish soap box and make a case for the admirable pacifist virtues, peaceful ways of the Amish and their respect for human life. At this point Bojo made her escape to her laptop to look at pictures of her latest internet pred...er, I mean boyfriend. My sister had been absent for some time by this point and was somewhere in the house injecting herself with insulin because she ate all the things she shouldn't eat... yet again. Furry was following Nigel wherever he went and looking at him with big ole moon pie eyes of idolation. My step-mom sort of half climbed over my dad in her attempt at escape. That left just me and my dad who promptly discounted my whole Amish lecture with, "Hell, they don't even have TVs in their homes!"

And the next thing you knew we were all in the living room eating pie and arguing about what brand of digital camera is the best while Furry ran around with his new Disney underwear on his head and chocolate all over his hands.

Before I left I made sure to hit up every single member of my family for a donation to the Autism foundation's fundraiser. Then I thanked them for all the candy and the donations; hugged Furry almost too tight and thanked Bojo for the wonderful meal. The last thing I saw before closing the door was Furry licking his spilled yoghurt off the floor and the beginnings of Bojo's freak out about the same.

*sigh*

Just another typical family holiday.

Easter Stuffing

2008-03-23T13:46:00.004-04:00

Do you ever eat ....I want to say do you ever eat so much that, but that's not really the point. Do you ever eat and then feel so freaking stuffed that you feel as if you will never ever need to eat again? So stuffed that even though you really do care about the hungry people in the world you still don't bother to save the other half of your spaghetti dinner? So hungry that you don't even have room for Jello?!

Yeah, that's how I felt after eating last night. I don't know if it is my meds, or the weather, or my stress level, but I am increasingly finding that a little goes a really really long way. Not that this is a bad thing, as I could stand to lose a few (or 50) pounds. It's just weird to get so full on so little.

Plus, I am due at the family Easter dinner in only a few hour s and I swear I still don't have room for even a single hot roll, caramelized carrot, slice of ham or chocolate egg. And at my family's gatherings there is really not much to do but eat. We're big on the cooking and eating we are! Holiday meals usually consist of days of prep work and the use of additional tables.

Also, even though I never did the whole Easter Bunny/Santa Claus/mythical figure-leaving-presents thing with Little Dog , now that he is almost all grown up I feel compelled to do it for the kitsch value. So, last night I stopped by the candy store my own mom always went to and bought him an armload of various marshmallow eggs and chocolate bunnies. I put these, along with the sour candy he picked out a couple of weeks ago (in anticipation of his self imposed no candy until after lent rule) in a wire basket I grabbed from the cupboard at the last minute. Then right before I went to bed I sort of half hid it under his pillow. As I drifted off to sleep I vaguely remember hearing Little Dog brush his teeth, turn out his light and then exclaim, "What the hell?!"

Happy Easter everybody!

People Are Starving in Our World and I am Making Apple Rabbits to Get Furry to Eat

2008-03-04T23:17:00.009-05:00

Furry has mastered language and is talking non-stop these days. That's pretty normal for a three year old, but what is unique about him is his "Bringlish" accent.

See, his mom was born and raised right here in the heartland of America. As such, she speaks with a sort of familiar southern twang. His dad, on the other hand, was born and raised across the pond in England and speaks with a delicious English accent.

Therefore, Furry's dialect is a mix of colloquial English and British slang. The other day he told Bojo that what she was saying was "rubbish" and he was quite adamant about it. He also loves the big green "oh-guh" called Shrek and recently told me he was "gonna git a 'ti-guh'"

It's a lot like living with new-Madonna - after she decided she was British and adopted the accent. Or maybe Brittney: post breakdown. You know, kind of like he's faking the whole British personae.

What he is not faking is his pickiness when it comes to food. This kiddo only likes to eat cookies, candies, yogurts and ...McDonalds. And that is only when he is willing to eat at all, which is rare.

So, aunt Yellow Dog, champion of the organic food, enemy of the preservative, Whole Food Market's bitch, decided to step in and help. I've been planning recipes and toddler cooking lessons and trying my damnedest to get Bojo to join me for a Sunday vegetable puree party.

I have also been working on a healthy foods Easter basket for Furry - filling it with organic alphabet pasta, gluten free muffins and dried fruits rather than candy. I love the challenge of getting a child to enjoy healthy foods.

Little Dog never ate processed foods until he was 4 and Nanna moved in with us, bringing her arsenal of Cheetos, Dreamsicles and fruit loops. I love my mom dearly, but I am not sure I can ever forgive her for getting my child hooked on junk during that year she lived with us. I would prepare of breakfast of corn flakes with honey or yogurt sprinkled with brown sugar and there she would be, lurking with her Eggo Cinnamon waffles or strawberry flavoured Pop Tarts. She was like a dealer behind the fence, only the fence was the doorway which led from our kitchen to her living area.

I would send him to play with Nanna while I cleaned house and then when I checked in on what my mom (the loving grandma) and my son (the attachment parenting raised organic fed child) were doing and I would end up busting their wild little junk food parties. After I washed the orange Doritos stains from his hands; wiped the artificially flavoured banana pudding off his faced and brushed the caramel from between his tiny teeth I would attempt to lecture my mom about healthy foods. She would poo-poo my objections and counter that he had eaten half her microwaved pasta before she gave him "dessert" and so he was, in her opinion, quite well fed.

It was only three days after we all moved into our own houses that Little Dog had his first ever full blown tantrum. It was so ugly that I will never forget that evening. It was all about Oreos.

Little Dog had refused to eat dinner and instead demanded Oreos. I promised him an oatmeal cookie if he would eat a few bites of his meal. Nope. He wanted Oreos and he wanted them bad. The tantrum escalated into screams - including plaintiff wails for his beloved Nanna because daddy and I were apparently mean mean people. He ended up in time-out in his room where he ripped off all his clothes and threw himself across his bed screaming at the top of his lungs. The only intelligible word during this rant was ... you guessed it: Oreo. RB and I stood in the doorway amazed, and a little scared, at the demon our child had become.

The tantrum passed, but his love of junk food remained. He became the pickiest eater in the whole world and it is only now, over a decade later, that he is finally willing to try some new things. We recently went to a hibachi grill and I did a double take when I saw him eating fried rice. Knowing the rare miracle that I was witnessing I was very quiet and pretended not to notice. When the chef's flying spatula delivered shrimp to each person at our table I accused my older nephew of eating Little Dog's 4 fried shrimp (which I had planned to procure for myself.)Little dog quickly affirmed that not only had he eaten the shrimp, but he wanted more.

::Thud:: You have no idea what a shock this all was. The next time we went to the store I bought about a million different kinds of rice and he has been willingly trying them all. He has also opted for organic wheat cereal and even asked for fresh fruit. That night I kept opening the fridge just to look because once again I am finally happy with the contents of my fridge and pantry.

But back to the problem of Furry.

The basket sits half filled on my dining room table. I have several pages of fun toddler friendly recipes typed up and WS is willing to start trying them out on Furry next week while Bojo is out of town.

And then, I find this. I feel like a complete loser now because I KNOW I will never be the kind of mom (or aunt) who makes such awesomely cool lunches as this. In fact, I want this woman to adopt me and make me cute little lunch boxes every day.

Seriously. *Sigh*

Okay, I must admit I have ordered some of the accoutrement's shown - like the cute little condiment containers and the multi coloured multi-shaped bowls. And yes, I did even order the tiny picks with animal heads. I even studied how to cut the apples into the bunny shapes.

I am such a sucker.

I am going to attempt to make some of these toy like lunches. I just hope Furry doesn't deem my efforts to be rubbish!

Latest Bookstore Damage

2008-03-02T11:53:00.003-05:00

This week's damage:

Bad Dog, a Buddhist memoir

A Lover's Discourse and The Pleasure of the Text, both by Roland Barthes, whom I have recently discovered and think I may be in love with.

A couple of fairly recent Chomsky tomes

The stuff of Thought, by Steven Pinker

All of the above are currently in some stage of being read by me. For reference I also bought a Harvard Press text on Sociolinguistics and two other linguistics reference books.

Grad school is really going to be hell on my budget, but will result in an expanded (albeit very nerdy) library!

The Only Time I Ever Ask My Friends For Money (...each year)

2008-02-28T21:55:00.008-05:00

Hint: There's a great picture of my favourite "adopted" nephew ; the boy who inspires all this, on his team's site (Holla Josh!).

Dear Friends,

I have a small handful of organizations that I personally support. Tulsa Autism Foundation is the only one that I ask for your help with once a year. Why? Largely because the Co-Founder of the organization, Jennifer Miller, is my personal hero; because Josh is an incredible kid, and because this family exemplifies everything good about life: gratitude, compassion, motivation, commitment, generosity ... (I truly could go on and on.)

I KNOW that the money the foundation raises directly benefits the families in our community who are affected by Autism Spectrum Disorders. Every donation, no matter how small, is received with genuine gratitude. Every single dollar makes a difference for this grass roots organization. Since opening its doors in 2006, the foundation has been able to increase awareness in our community and to offer programming to assist both families and professionals who are affected by autism. All of the money raised during this annual "Ready...Set...Run!" fundraiser goes exclusively towards programming efforts and covering costs for the families. This includes such things as free Family Fun Nights and the parent work room at the foundation.

Some examples of how your donation can help: Just a $10 donation would allow the foundation to purchase supplies for the parent Workroom. A $25 dollar donation would mean one more book could be purchased for the library.

So you see, any help you can offer will make a difference. Please read the letter below from John, Josh's dad. Even if you live out of state; even if you know of no one affected by autism; please make a donation to support this very worthy cause. It is important to me.

Thank you,
Yellow Dog

From: Miller, John T
Sent: Sunday, February 17, 2008 8:09 AM
Subject: Ready... Set... Run! (for Josh, if you please)

(First, let me apologize for such a long e-mail - please read it, though and help us out if you feel so inclined.)

Well, it’s that time again… that time where I embarrass myself by finishing well behind people nearly twice my age in the, now annual, Ready… Set… Run!5K benefiting the Tulsa Autism Foundation. Did you know 1 in 150 children are being diagnosed with some form of autism, making it more common than pediatric cancer, diabetes, and AIDS combined?

Last year’s inaugural race was a huge success… despite the brutal weather conditions. If I understood correctly, we raised more money than any other charity run in our city, save one– The Race For The Cure, which is huge.

Anyway, last year Josh had the biggest team and was second in money raised in his name, which garnered him several great prizes and he/we are hoping to do the same this year. That’s where you come in – Josh would love and appreciate if you could be part of the team. We want to have an army out there running and/or walking for Team NeuroLogic (or someone else you know affected by autism).

For those of you that know Josh, imagine the joy, the singing, the dancing and everything else as he walks the 1-mile fun run course surrounded by an army of supporters. For those of you that don’t know Josh, well… let’s just say he’s worth it - and I personally guarantee that if you do meet him, he’ll bring a smile to your face and joy to your life… I can’t guarantee, however, that the smile won’t be for something inappropriate that comes out of his mouth.

Here are some of the ways you can help support Josh and/or Tulsa Autism Foundation:

* Join the team! We really want everyone to do this one if they can – Josh really wants to win the biggest team award again this year. Even if you can’t actually make it on raceday… just visit our team's site and click the link about halfway down that page that says “If you want to register for this event, click here and join our team for raceday (if you’re not comfortable doing business on the Internet, I’ve attached a manual entry form you can fill out and mail back to me with your entry fee). It costs $20 and gets you a race packet that includes this year’s official race shirt – long-sleeved this time. I will pick up our team’s packets about a week before the event and do my best to personally deliver them to you before raceday – otherwise, we’ll meet up before the race that morning and I’ll get it to you. Heck, I’ll even mail it to you assuming I know who you are if you live out of town but just want to be part of the team in spirit. If I don’t know you, I’ll mail all of them to the person I do know that got you involved and let them distribute the shirts.

* Sponsor the team! Just visit Josh's team's site and click the big button that says “Sponsor Me Now” and make a simple donation – this will not get you a shirt, though. The only way to get the shirt is to register for the event. Again, if you prefer not to do business over the Internet, feel free to mail any donations - payable to Tulsa Autism Foundation and I'll handle it for you.

* Form your own team for a child you know affected by autism and raise money in their honor. Each “Team Hero” will be recognized and receive a trophy during the post-race extravaganza. * Forward this to everyone you know - EVERYONE!

Thank you,
John Miller - proud father of Josh & Reagan (& Copper and Baron, too)

She's Just Not That Into You (and she doesn't deserve your vote)

2008-02-16T09:36:00.012-05:00

I tried to like Hillary. I really did. By all rights I should be one of her staunchest supporters. I am a feminist woman. I loved Bill Clinton. He was the one who inspired me to take an interest in Politics.

I gave birth to my only child just two months before Election Day in 1992. I was a single mom at a time when the Republicans were campaigning on a platform of family values which condemned people like me (and Murphy Brown.) I remember feeling that the leaders of my country condemned, rather than supported me. It was a defining period in my life.

Bill brought politics into the realm of the common man. He got the attention of the MTV generation. He reminded minorities of their voice. During the first six years of his presidency the policies of his legislation served to better the lives of working people.

Of course I wanted to support Hillary.

But she has let me down. Over and over again. Every time I hear her speak she angers me more. Hillary is campaigning from a position of power that her husband afforded her. It is almost as if Bill got everyone to listen, but now Hillary only wants to talk to the important people.

It is now 15 years after the 1992 elections and 8 years after the Republicans regained control. During the past 8 years I have witnessed my country being ridiculed and being attacked. I have watched our economy suffer. I have seen the middle class failing and the poor getting poorer.

15 years later and I am still struggling to make ends meet. I never qualified for any government aid which would have afforded me a leg-up. In 2001 I was earning only $8 an hour - too much to qualify for help with my $600/mo.day care bill; too much to qualify for food stamps. I had no health insurance.

I am now one of the lucky people who has employer provided health care, yet in 2007 my out- of-pocket healthcare expenses exceeded 33% of my income. I am working full time, attending school, paying my taxes and supporting my son alone, yet my standard of living is not improving. There have been times when my hope for the future has waned.

I am excited about this election! Once again I am hearing a candidate tell me I matter. Barack Obama reminds us that even if we do not make a lot of money; even if we are not a part of the political elite; even if we are feeling oppressed, powerless, betrayed by our country and just plain worn out, there is hope.

Obama tells us there is hope for the future, but first we need to enact some change. He is the fresh voice that inspires us to care again; to believe in the dream again. He was not raised in a solely American "white bread" environment of safety and presumed success. He was raised in different cultures, both geographically and within the U.S. He is a bi-racial man who through hard work gained entrance to, and succeeded in, the very waspy world of Ivy League. His determination and his capacity for hope have enabled him to attain a position of respect within the political realm. Thus far he has served well for the people he represents. He appears to have earned every opportunity; honoured every commitment in both his professional and personal life; and done so with dignity, honour and the absence of scandal. There is no doubt that he is a noble man.

It is time to restore some dignity and nobility to the office of the President. Bill's presidency ended amidst much scandal and national embarrassment. George Bush need only to speak and he becomes the butt of many jokes. Our administration has become, at times, an embarrassment.

We are currently engaged in a war with a country whose culture believes women are beneath men. Do we really want to place a woman in the highest office of our land now? Will that make us appear strong to those we are in opposition with? I strongly believe the office of the President should be held by the most qualified candidate regardless of race, gender or religion. I also recognize that at this time the best candidate is not a woman.

It is not about furthering a non-discriminatory agenda in the U.S. It is not about women's rights in our culture. It is about having a leader who will be viewed with respect and authority by the rest of the world. Sadly, in the countries we are currently in opposition with, that person will not be a woman.

I have looked at the platforms of both candidates. Hillary's website lists 14 important issues, including strengthening the middles class, but the word poverty does not appear amongst them. On the issue of poverty, Obama's ideas address crime in our communities, responsible fatherhood and most importantly, an increase in the minimum wage. Hillary promotes more tax credits, fixing the housing market and making college affordable. The truly poor in America do not have the luxury of considering college options or affordable mortgage rates. They are merely trying to meet their most basic needs of clothing, food and shelter. Hillary appears to have forgotten about the people of our lowest financial class. Likewise, her health plan focuses on tax credits for working families and small businesses, but seems to largely ignore the needs of the unemployed and impoverished. I have health insurance, but I still cannot afford the out of pocket expenses of ever increasing health care costs. Minimum wage is $5.85/hour and gas currently hovers around $3/gallon. Therefore, a minimum wage earner uses an entire day's pay just to fill up his/her car. A single gallon of milk costs more than an hour of his/her pay. Something is terribly wrong with this picture!

For those who say Hillary's experience in the political realm, via having been married to the president qualifies her to do the job I ask: If you need surgery, are you going to have the wife of the Surgeon perform it? She may have scheduled his appointments, kept his office efficient, dealt with his patients, and been respected by his colleagues - but she never actually did the "doctoring" now did she? Ditto the wife of the president. Sure, Hillary is more qualified than me, but certainly not any of her opponents.

Let's talk about conviction. Obama opposed the war. Hillary initially voted yes, but has since changed her mind. Recently, as she is asking us to ignore her record on the war, she also produced a touchy-feely commercial about how she will "never forget" those fighting for us. Supporting our troops is a very good thing, but what Hillary is doing is pandering to both sides of the fence. It is a good tactical measure - stroking the soldiers while backtracking on her record regarding what they are fighting for. This exemplifies why I do not support her candidacy. I want a leader who will hold strong to the convictions and promises he/she stands for regardless of public opinion. I do not want apologies for having made tough decisions. I want someone who owns their actions, regardless of popularity. Hell, George Bush may be an ass, but he has never felt the need to apologize for it. I may not agree with what he believes, but I do believe he stands behind it.

Lastly, there is the issue of loyalty. Hillary recently fired her Campaign Manager. This woman had been supporting her, promoting her and working extremely hard for her. Public opinion of Hillary, the Candidate, was turning. So what does Hillary do? She blames someone else. Rather than own her platform and address its problems; rather than work harder with those working for her; rather than turn to her staff and resolve to overcome... she punishes a scapegoat. Do we want a leader who abandons her supporters when the going gets tough?

This is what it all comes down to: commitment, integrity, loyalty, and the ability to listen and to work through the tough times. Obama has consistently said to us, "Let your voices be heard," whereas Hillary has only said, "Listen to me." Obama is a candidate who offers us hope for our own futures rather than merely reminding us of the glories of his past. He has made me believe in the potential of my country again, and that is more than enough reason to give him my vote.

Another Embarrassing Confession

2008-02-10T20:37:00.002-05:00

I like Aerosmith. There. I said it. Should I be embarrassed about this? Or should I be more embarrassed by the fact that before this weekend I could not have named a single Aerosmith song?

Okay, that is not entirely true because I was familiar with Walk This Way - but only because of Run-DMC (Da Kings of Queens - hollah Muller!) And I guess somewhere amidst the pop culture databases in my mind I recognised that Dude Looks Like a Lady was sung by the only man with lips larger than Jagger. But that was really the extent of it.

While I am shaming myself, I may as well admit that I can still only name two Led Zeppelin songs: Stairway to Heaven (duh) and D'Yer Maker. I only know the latter because one of the cooks in the restaurant I worked in throughout college sang it ALL THE TIME. As far as naming the members of this seminal band ... well, aside from Robert Plant I can't. I even just cheated and googled just to make sure Plant was actually a member.

I guess I just missed the whole 1970s anthem rock bus. Alice Cooper, Judas Priest, Iron Maiden, and even Van Halen could appear at my dinner table and I wouldn't have a clue who they were. Ditto Pink Floyd and The Who, though I can at least name some of their songs.

It's only because I spent my young teen years at the roller rink that I know the words to so many Journey Ballads. Now those guys knew how to sing about the young love I experienced.

Sigh.

Anyway, I always thought I was pretty well schooled in music, but damn! It's like graduating high school in America without learning who Abe Lincoln or Thomas Jefferson were! (As an aside, I recently dated a guy who rudely accused me of just that.)

So, because an old and dear friend of mine is still, after all these years, in love with Steven Tyler I have discovered Aerosmith. What is that, like 20 years behind the curve? Anyway, she sent me a link to a Youtube video and that led, as Youtube links always do, to a couple of hours of video watching. By the time Liv Tyler and Alicia Silverstone stripped in Crazy I was hooked. I went out and bought some of their CDs yesterday and spent today writing papers to the soundtrack I apparently had muted during my youth.

The only thing I can offer in defense of my musical steet cred is the fact that while I missed most of the Big Boys, I did amass quite a collection of obscure punk, old rock-a-billy, classical and old- school rap. During my music industry years I had the opportunity to meet a lot of cool musicians who became even bigger after I met them - though, uh, not due to any actions on my part.

I do own bragging rights to the following encounters - though to explain how they occurred would take waaaay too long:

* Playing with baby Jack Osbourne backstage while Ozzy gave interviews.

* Discussing how very religous people are in the Bible belt with Bono.

* Dying the hair of Fixx's bass player in the public restroom of the arena before they played.

* Todd Rundgren sat in with Lords of the New Church, which was cool, but backstage he would not admit to us he was Todd Rundgren. (Conversley, Ted Nugent used to call the record store, but we refused to believe it was him. (Mucho thanks to Muller for reminding me of that!) Also, that same night at the LotNC gig Stiv promised to come to the record store the next day to kidnap us...and made good on his promise, though no actual kidnaping occurred.

* I pissed off the lead singer of Whitesnake ... or maybe it was some other hair rock band. regardless, I didn' know who he was then and clearly I still don't. Sorry "leather pants guy in the zebra shirt". I'm sure you've recovered from the ego blow.

* I ended up stuck with the responsibility for the underaged girlfriend of one of the guys in the scratch and rap band that did the "wiki wiki" song, whose name neither Muller nor I can now remember. So much for the staying power of 80s rap! I put the kiddo's butt on a bus back home to Jersey the next morning!

* Too many fun nights hanging with Henry Rollins and the guys after a Black Flag gig.

* Discussing physics and philosophy with the guys from Devo - though not so much input from me on the physics part. Damn! Those guys were freakishly smart!

* Inflicting my wrath on Brian Setzer after he was rude to my (then) boyfriend's two little boys. I didn't care how many tattoos he had - I was still gonna kick his ass!

After a nostalgic phone conversation with Muller we both agreed that there were so many great shows and fun people that they all sort of meld together into one big crazy groupie experience. Even without the Arena Dinosaurs they were still Good Times.

They Give This Stuff to Fighter Pilots!!!

2008-02-04T21:35:00.001-05:00

So my doc quit her practice to take an administrative position and I had to switch to a different one. It really sucks because I really really liked the old doc. But the new doc I chose is my friend Darrin's partner. I'm pretty confident that since Darrin is a nice guy and a great doctor, surely his partner in the practice will be equally good. We ruled out Darrin being my doctor a long time ago, as since we are friends and neighbors it would be kind of awkward to introduce physical exams into our relationship.

Anyway, I met the new guy last week when I went in for some labs. Friday we met to discuss the results and to hopefully find out why the fuck I feel like crap and can barely stay awake these days. Turns out there was nothing in my lab work that would account for my lethargy. Damn! I was actually honestly kind of hoping for some skewed thyroid numbers or anemia, as at least that would explain things.

New Doc is now betting on sleep apnea as the culprit, which has been brought up before in my medical history. I will probably end up doing a stupid sleep study again. Ugh. While I do love to sleep I also get really really uncomfortable when being monitored.

I did ask New Doc if it was alright for me to take No doze or Vivarin or somesuch since endless hours of sleep and a neverending consumption of caffeine aren't doing the trick.

"Oh, I can give you something that I think will help," he said. "This is not an amphetamine and it doesn't contain ephedrine. It will not make you 'speed' but it will help you to feel more alert and to stay awake. It's often prescibed for shift workers and military jet pilots."

Jet pilots?! Does it come in an economy bottle?

He gave me some sample packs and told me to go ahead and start that day, but to take only half since it was already 2pm. I took half immediately and since I had the rest of the day off I decided to do some errands.

I'll just say that I got more done on Friday than I have in whole weeks past! I think it was around 3pm when I started talking and I didn't shut up until after midnight (at which point I had no problem going to sleep). In between I did errands, grocery shopped and went over and hooked up Muller's mom's internet. During the drive times I took care of phone errands - including some counseling. I took Little Dog for a haircut and then went and got my own hair did. At one point as Corey was cutting my hair I exclaimed, "Cory! I cannot stop talking!!!"

Corey's response was the equivalent of "duh". "Girl, you haven't shut up since you got here," he laughed, "What the hell are you on?!" Now Corey is my spiritual brother, so he knows I don't participate in recreational drug use so he was being facetious. I explained about the doc and the pilots and how I finally felt awake for the first time in months. He suggested that maybe after he finished my hair I might want to go on a speaking tour of the world. Funny guy, that Corey.

When I finally got home I called Darrin - well, that was after I hauled in all the groceries and packages, cooked a late dinner and put together a giant training cage for the Most Patient Cat in the World to do her rehab therapy in.

"Is this stuff speed, " I grilled Dr. Darrin, "Cause I have done some speed in my crazy youth and if I remember correctly it was a lot like this - only then I swear I could feel my hair grow and I smoked a lot and I forgot to eat." Yeah, I'm not proud of it, but I was a club kid in the 80's and I did my share of amphetamines. I wanted to be skinny and to dance all night, what can I say?

Darrin used his doctor voice to explain to me that it really, honestly, was not speed and that it was fine for me to take. He said my ridiculously high cholesterol and laid back (meaning: inactive) lifestyle were far more likely to cause me heart problems than this medication.

Hallelujia! I took one the next morning and again experienced feeling awake and alert. I didn't talk nearly as much, but I accomplished even more than the day before. Again, it was a reasonable hour when I went ot bed rather than, say, six in the evening.

I do believe this is a miracle drug! With my luck in about a month the first class action suit will be filed and It'll be pulled from the shelves. It's truly too good to be true.

Until then, if you need a jet pilot, I'm awake!

More Books

2008-02-01T21:17:00.001-05:00

I just finished reading Susan Nash's I Never Did Tell You Did I? It's an interesting glimpse into the life of a woman just trying to deal with life. I have had the pleasure of taking classes from Dr. Nash and she is an awesome instructor whose passion for writing inspires.

Do board books count even though I am old? I just added two adorable board books to my collection: The Story of Rosa Parks and the The Story of Martin Luther King, Jr. I'm not really sure why they chose the board book format, as the stories are written for about kindergarten level, but they do offer a concise biography of the subjects.

Tonight in Barnes & Noble I found a first edition of Irving's latest novel, Until I find You, on the clearance table for five bucks! That made me really happy, as it completed (to date) my Irving collection. Well, sort of. I refuse to acknowledge Son of the Circus, which reamins the only book that ever bested me. I absolutely could not stand it enough to read even half of it. And Irving is one of my top three favourite authors! So, I choose to pretend said book does not exist.

Last, but definitely not least, I just finished reading Lee Iacocca's fall 2007 release, Where Have All the Leaders Gone? I don't really do book reviews, but DAMN, I don't know what is to fault about this book. I think everyone should buy it, read it and be inspired! I don't know much about Iacocca, so he may just be another evil suit, but what he says in this book is dead on.

That's about it. I won't bore you with the Sociology texts I must read for school or the cat behaviour books I am reading in an effort to help (meaning: not strangle) the Most Patient Cat in the World.

Academic Opinion: Diversity and Language

2008-01-27T20:48:00.001-05:00

Prejudices found in the community are often acted out in the workplace. In George Henderson’s book, Cultural Diversity in the Workplace, prejudice is defined as “a conclusion drawn without adequate knowledge or evidence”.[1] While there are laws to prevent discrimination in the workplace, as pointed out in the text, there are no laws against having a prejudicial attitude. This raises the question: is anyone without prejudice?

I have heard the statement that we should “embrace diversity” rather than merely practice tolerance. I consider myself an open minded individual, but I am neither sure I agree with embracing diversity, nor am I sure that to truly do so is possible. Certainly I respect diversity. If diversity can be loosely defined as “differences”, then isn’t the acknowledgment of said differences without judgment an acceptable goal?

Take religious views for example. A Christian’s view of Jesus as the son of God is the foundation of their faith – their religious truth. A Buddhist person, however, does not hold the same view. Can the two be expected to “embrace” the other’s view? WordNet, an online dictionary defines to embrace as to “take up the cause, ideology, practice, method, of someone and use it as one's own” and offers "She embraced Catholicism"; "They adopted the Jewish faith" as examples.[2] Isn’t it more realistic to expect the two to accept that they differ in these beliefs and proceed from there without bias?

Perhaps it is an argument of semantics. When someone uses the phrase “embrace diversity” perhaps what they really mean is to accept diversity and to include diverse views and opinions. It is certainly noble to raise one’s children to respect the differences of others, but to raise children to embrace these differences; to take up the cause or ideology; undermines the whole idea of raising a child with a specific set of values. Strong moral, philosophical and religious or spiritual beliefs are the very core of our identities. A person secure in these beliefs is a person secure with themselves. One should hold the conviction that their views are the right ones for his/herself. The problem is that many people refuse to accept that what might be correct for them is not correct for everyone else, thus making them (at best) narrow minded and at worst self righteous and often discriminatory.

Semantics, the meaning of the words within a language, is often the root of misunderstanding. Henderson says that all people utter sounds in hope that the person who receives them will be in common agreement about their meaning. Then he goes on to point out that “words are full of human relationship traps” and can be distorted.[3] The language of culture, or lexicon, can often lead to misunderstanding. Take for example the recent highly publicized incident concerning Don Imus’s racist and misogynist remarks directed at the Rutgers’ women’s basketball team. This incident, for which Imus was fired, created media frenzy and resulted in a much needed dialogue about the lexicon of popular culture. Was Imus, indeed being both racist and sexist, or was he merely using the (seemingly acceptable) terms heard in popular culture – specifically rap music. If he was not guilty of being racist/sexist, then was he simply guilty of being a white man who tried to use terms acceptable only to those of a specific ethnic group? Unfortunately, the dialogue was short lived and no consensus was reached.

Recently a popular syndicated morning radio show, whose cast is comprised of a white male, a white woman, an Hispanic male and a black male, asked the question: When singing along with a rap song, should a white guy not sing the word niggah.[4] Certainly there are many current popular songs which include that very word. Again, no consensus was reached, but it is worth noting that the sole black man in the group adamantly stated that he, even though black, would never use the word and wished the artists would cease to also.

Another example of misuse of contemporary lexicon is that of MSNBC commentator, David Shuster. Shuster was suspended from his job because while discussing Chelsea Clinton’s role in her mother’s presidential campaign he asked, "Doesn't it seem as if Chelsea is sort of being pimped out in some weird sort of way?" Clinton’s campaign officials immediately responded calling the remark "disgusting," "beneath contempt" and "the kind of thing that should never be said on a national news network." MSNBC officials called the remark “irresponsible.” Shuster, himself, offered an on air apology stating that his remark was “inappropriate” and that it “diminished the regard and respect” for Chelsea Clinton. [5]

Shuster’s remarks did not generate the media frenzy that Imus’s did, but the two do share similarities. In a society where contemporary lexicon accepts that a popular television show on MTV is called Pimp my Ride; where MySpace users are urged to “Pimp my Page”; and where even the Racine, Wisconsin library offered a summer program for teens called “Pimp My Cart”[6], is it really that surprising that Shuster used a term which has been generally accepted to mean “to decorate” or “to help look better”. Clinton herself stated that Shuster’s’ remarks were said to illustrate a pattern of behavior that “that seems to repeatedly lead to this sort of degrading language”.[7] I think this comment, posted anonymously in response to the article, sums up the situation nicely: “Just because you are not in touch with the vernacular in modern language does not change the meaning of what he was saying. It only demonstrates your lack of understanding young people. You are in fact trying to "pimp" this situation for political gain.”

None of these examples should be interpreted as a call to excuse truly derogatory or discriminatory language. They are cited only to point out that context – both societal and situational – should be considered when making a determination of discrimination. As stated in our text: The links between language and discourse on one hand and discrimination and racism or sexism on the other hand are complex and varied. While the business sector of employment is certainly not a pop culture arena, cultural imperatives do dictate our sense of appropriateness within our culture. These cultural imperatives do play a role within the business community in that DELs[8] inappropriate to the office are considered acceptable in our entertainment, and therein lays the problem.

End notes:

[1] Henderson, George. Cultural Diversity in the Workplace: Issues and Strategies. Praeger Publishers. Connecticut: 1994
[2] Princeton University. (2006). WordNet: a Lexical Database for the English Language. http://wordnet.princeton.edu/perl/webwn?s=embrace
[3] See note 1
[4] Kidd Kraddick in the Morning. (2008). Can White People Say That? http://www.kiddlive.com/mp3Player/index.html
[5] Kurtz, Howard. (2008). “Chelsea Remark Earns MSNBC Correspondent A Suspension”. [Electronic Version]. The Washington Post. February 9, 2008, P. C01. http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/02/08/AR2008020803756.html
[6] Anderson, Janine. (2007). What's in a name? Racine Public Library invites teens to 'Pimp My Cart'. http://www.freerepublic.com/focus/f-news/1834409/posts
[7] Vogle, Kenneth P. and Calderone, Michael. (2008). Hillary rips MSNBC's Shuster. Retrieved April 10, 2008 from http://www.politico.com/news/stories/0208/8412.html
[8] Derogatory Ethnic Labels

Academic Opinion: Prostitution

2008-01-27T20:44:00.001-05:00

The Prostitution Research and Education (PRE) Site is clearly against prostitution. Their stated mission is “to abolish the institution of prostitution while at the same time advocating for alternatives to trafficking and prostitution - including emotional and physical healthcare for women in prostitution”.[1] Included in their mission statement is the conviction that men (and their demand for prostitution) are the root of the problem. This is a narrow and sexist view which paints women as victims and men as over-sexed aggressors.

Men are not the only ones who use the services of prostitutes. Additionally, to use the term “demand” is to claim an inherent aggression, or anger, in the desire for the services of a prostitute. Yes, there is a definite chauvinistic aspect to prostitution. In fact, claiming that men are the root cause of prostitution is quite chauvinistic. In a 1994 Andrea Dworkin, a self proclaimed radical feminist, gave a speech entitled Prostitution and Male Supremacy.[2] In this speech she asked the question “Prostitution: what is it?” and answered with the statement, “It is the use of a woman's body for sex by a man, he pays money, he does what he wants.” Was Ms. Dworkin unaware of male escorts (gigolos)? A cursory internet search of the terms “male escort” turns up a number of web sites. Additionally, many of the same women who object to prostitution might have no problem at all with attending a Chippendale’s show or even a bachelorette party which includes a male stripper.

The issue of prostitution seems rife with both gender and moral prejudice. Any discussion of the subject should include both male and female prostitution. Therefore, the arguments presented by the PRE are sexist in their exclusion of male prostitutes and their female johns. The PRE defines prostitution as inclusive of “stripping, exotic dancing, nude dancing, table dancing, phone sex, trafficking, child and adult pornography, lap dancing, massage brothels, and peep shows”.[3] Males also participate in offering the services of all of the aforementioned, and females do also partake of these services.

In order to discuss prostitution we must first define it. If we accept the definition as the performance of sexual acts for money, then we must include popular actors, actresses and models in the discussion because a large number of contemporary Hollywood stars have engaged in representations of the same for both print and film. But everyone knows we are not talking about the latest blockbuster movie or perfume ad campaign.

What we are really talking about is the common streetwalker, often poor, drug addicted or underage. This is the kind of prostitution opponents want to end. Who doesn’t agree that the abuse of such women and children is legally, morally and inherently wrong? I am sure no one would argue that a crack addicted minor forced to give her body sexually and indiscriminately to men for a fee she will never see is not a victim. It doesn’t matter how or why she came to be in the situation. Sexual abuse, rape, and slavery are currently criminal acts.

So what is the argument about prostitution? The argument seems to lay in the interpretation of what is moral and what is legal. Char LaFontaine, a middle-aged former prostitute who is now a housing coordinator and outreach worker with Prostitution Alternatives Counseling and Education in Vancouver, Canada (PACE) says we must differentiate between survival sex and prostitution.[4] The former arises out of poverty, abuse or lack of skills or education. The latter, she says, is an informed choice wherein the woman has a right to refuse service. These women use prostitution as a means to make good money. While many see prostitution as subjugation of women by men, others argue that prostitution is about the right of a woman to control and use her body as she sees fit. Alan Young, at right, a civil libertarian and criminal law professor, says he has met prostitutes who enjoy their work. When it comes to job dissatisfaction he says, "I see no difference between a miserable office worker and a miserable prostitute”.[5]

There is still an extremely negative connotation when the words hooker, prostitute, and whore are applied to women who sell sex for money. These women are stereotyped as trash; as bad girls; as sexually diseased; and as having no morals or respect for their bodies.[6] Regardless of whether the person in question is a prostitute by choice, or as a means of survival, the occupation still offends the morals of most of society.

There is no solution to the problem of prostitution other than an enforcement of existing criminal laws against sex crimes, slavery and human trafficking. Unfortunately there will always be those deviants in society who seek the sexual gratification of one who is allowed no choice, but forced to offer their bodies for the satisfaction of one who hold more physical or monetary power. To decriminalize prostitution would, in many ways, be a backwards step in the cause of human rights. Therein lay the irony, because under existing laws the one guilty of the crime is often also the victim of the same.

End Notes :

[1] Prostitution Research and Education (PRE). (2008). About Prostitution Research and Education. http://www.prostitutionresearch.com/about.html
[2] Dworkin, Andrea. (1994). Prostitution and Male Supremacy. http://www.nostatusquo.com/ACLU/dworkin/MichLawJourI.html
[3] See note 1
[4] Gardner, Dan. (2002). Do Some Women Really Choose to be Prostitutes? http://www.missingpeople.net/do_some_women_really_choose-june_9,_2002.htm
[5] ibid
[6] Hickenbottom, Iris Leos. (2002). Women’s Issues: Prostitution Then and Now. Retrieved April 18, 2008 from http://www.cwrl.utexas.edu/~ulrich/femhist/sex_work.shtml#Victorian

Goodnight John Boy

2008-01-22T08:41:00.001-05:00

Oh Johnny *sigh* I watched you in the debates and I like you, I really like you. Last night you even reminded me a little of (dare I say it?) Al. It's not just the fact that you both have the Student Council President-Prom King-waspy-nerdy-good looks either. You started talking about green jobs and you had me at solar panels.

Why are people so caught up in the Clinton/Obama theatrics that they forget about you?! There were points in the debate where I had to wonder if you were actually there as a moderator rather than a candidate.

You're too nice Johnny! They are beating you. Quit raising your hand to speak and waiting to be called on! Quit conceding that both of your opponents have good ideas! Stand up John! For the love all that is right and good STAND UP!

Oh hell, nevermind John. I think it's too late. And you know what? That pisses me off! I want to vote my heart. I want to vote for you. The problem is, I don't think you can win and that means I am going to have to throw my vote towards the only direction I can make it count: By using it in the showdown between your rivals.

Johnny, I'll always love you, but I think our relationship is going nowhere and it's time for me to move on.

I miss you already.

Good Girl

2008-01-21T09:21:00.001-05:00

The other afternoon a younger co-worker told me goodbye. "Goodbye," I replied, and then, in my mind I heard the phrase, "Be a good girl!" At first I wasn't sure where that came from, but it triggered the memory that my mother always added that phrase after telling me goodbye. "Bye! Be a good girl," she would call as I went out the door to kindergarten. The same phrase followed me even into adulthood. I guess my mom felt it was important for me to be a "good girl" and she programmed that into me from day one.

My mom meant well, but there were repercussions. I tried so hard to be a good girl that I never made waves. Even during those years when I had pink hair and spent my days sleeping and my nights at punk rock gigs I still did my very best to be a good girl.

I was such a good girl that I married because it was the "right" thing to do and stayed in an unhappy marriage for almost a decade.

I try very hard not to program unhealthy notions into Little Dog. I have always told him many times every day that I love him. It was like a game when he was young. I would call out his name, sometimes in an exasperated or urgent voice. "What," he would call back. "I love you," I would say in the same voice used to call his name. It has become so routine that now when I called his name he often replies, "I know. You love me."

There are other phrases in my life that I have come to expect from people. I have a dear friend of over 25 years who, when he calls me, begins the conversation with the phrase, "What's goin' on?" Spoken in his slow southern drawl, this phrase is like lullaby in that it lulls me right into that comfortable state of our friendship. These conversations usually last at least an hour.

Another friend has a thing about saying goodbye. He ends every conversation with his friends and family members with the phrase, "Love ya'." I used to think it was kind of odd, but now I am so used to it that it feels natural. If decades of friendship haven’t illustrated it, this phrase, at the end of every conversation, reminds me that he loves me.

It seems it is somewhat common to not like to say goodbye on the phone. I, personally, have no problem with it, but I see in many others a refusal to. Bob, usually ends with "Later" for example. Bojo, who is usually in a rush, often ends awkwardly with "I'll call ya later!"

Anything is better than my paternal grandmother who used to end the phone conversation by abruptly hanging up. The first time I encountered this as a child I held the phone out and looked at it. "She never says bye - she just hangs up," My mom laughed. Even as a child I thought this was kind of a rude way to end and encounter.

Much like my mother wished for me to be a good girl, I have realized I do impose a certain thing on Little Dog via the daily phrase, "Have a good rest." Since he was a baby I have always told him goodnight, followed by that phrase. See, I am in constant pursuit of a "good rest" as that is often elusive to me. I guess subconsciously I made imparting my wish for the same for Little Dog into my daily lexicon. I've never had to tell him to be a "good boy." He has become that all on his own.

Bookstore tab

2008-01-21T01:43:00.001-05:00

Well, I am skipping over The Agony and the Ecstacy because Brad Warner just turned me on to another book titled Thank You and Okay. It's a bit dated, but is about an American man's experience living in Japan and in a Buddhist monastery.

I also went to Border's last night and did serious damage to the bank account. Little Dog got 5 new mangas and I got the new issues of Mothering and Bust. I also got a huge book on Russian cooking (and culture); picked up a hardback copy of The Elements of Style to replace my worn out paperback from college; and bought the most currently revised edition of A Child is Born. In addition to these I purchased Your Life Buttoned Up from Life.doc. The inner obsessive compulsive in me loves organisational books like this! I only hope to find the time to actually make it work for me.

See, this is why I have to avoid bookstores. Books are my crack. I have about five heavy texts I need to be studying for school instead of reading fem/hippie mags or Buddhist memoirs.

*sigh*

Hillary Needs a Tissue ...and Your Vote

2008-01-14T22:01:00.002-05:00

You can skip the Kleenex and just give Hillary your ballot with a big ole X by her name. That's what she wants. That's why she cried ... or almost cried ... or fake cried ... or whatever spin you want to put on it.

All I have to say is that this is real crying:

And this is not:

Vote for Furry! His tears are just as manipulative, but at least they are real!

This Year I Really Will Keep Track of My Reading!

2008-01-04T19:46:00.001-05:00

In an effort to keep track of all the books I read in 2008 I am going to at least list them here as I finish them.

Thus far I have (re)read Little House on the Prairie – my favourite book as a child! It is one of the few that I reread every year just for old times sake. From the ages of 7 through 12 I wanted to be Laura Ingalls and to live on the prairie. That's right. Me - the city gal who now freaks any time a wall socket is not clearly accessible. Laugh all you want, but if only the Amish had been a bit more inviting on those summer family trips of my childhood I would have stayed with them. I could have had 14 kids and instead of writing in this blog right now I'd be canning! Beets even!

But alas, the Yoder farm only sold us eggs and baked goods and never invited me to stay, so here I remain, all "of the world."

Also read: More than Noise: The Philosophy of Punk (take that Amish!) by Craig O’Hara. It was a Christmas gift from Bojo. Thanks Bojo!

Next up: The Agony and The Ecstasy.

No Resolutions, Just a New year

2008-01-03T22:08:00.001-05:00

I don’t make New Year’s resolutions so much as I embrace the opportunities offered by a new year. I like beginnings: blank sheets of paper, Mondays, the first of the month, the beginning of a semester, the first stage of falling in love, empty rooms and blank walls. So much opportunity when you start from scratch!

This year is starting out well, which is easy enough to say when we're only two weeks in. By November I was pretty much done with 2007 and ready to start anew. For me, 2007 was a year of health crisis - from root canals to emergency surgery and most everything in between.

It was also a year which included a poorly thought out relationship which, thankfully, I regained my senses enough to end. It was fun while it ... no, scratch that, it wasn't ever really even that much fun. It was as much my fault as his though, so don't think I am pointing fingers here. I wish him the best on whatever he chooses to do, I am just no longer willing to wait around to see what that is. On a positive note, I will take from that experience a new found love of walking ...and maybe, just maybe, walking will eventually turn into running!

Today I am excited about my studies, the new plantation blinds I hung in the dining room, my greatly anticipated new cellphone, the fact that I have reconnected with an old friend back east, and this summer's trip to Russia with Little Dog.

I am going to try really hard to make some positive changes this year so any good karma you feel like sending my way will be greatly appreciated!

Random Political Stuffs

2007-12-28T00:57:00.001-05:00

It's not that I don't have opinions - believe me I have a TON of them. I have just had to back-burner the political me in order to focus on school stuffs. I think we have an amazing candidate selection and am not even going to venture a guess as to how it will all turn out. My dream? That would be an Edwards/Obama ticket. I love me some Obama, but I don't think he is quite ready. Give him 8 years in the VP slot and then let him drive. An Obama/Booker ticket in 2016 is my ultimate dream.

"But what about Hillary," you say? Well, I loved her until she ran for president. I do not like how she is running her campaign, though I do see how she is making it work. Sorry Hil', but I am never ever going to vote for over a quarter century of Bushes and Clintons running my country. I think it's cool that you're powerful woman and all, but you're not the gal for the job. And if your own pandering wasn't enough to turn me off, that of your supporters is. Ugh.

I was looking at the big three's websites tonight and found it amusing that both Edwards' and Clinton's locked up on me - after asking me repeatedly to register with them. Obama's, however, invited me in to look around and stay as long as I liked - without requiring me to add my name to the mailing list. Oh yeah, and he sells t-shirts too! Got Hope? Great slogan!

Anyway, obviously I won't be voting for Hillary in the primaries. If she should win the nomination I am not really sure what I will do. *sigh* Like many, I am anxiously awaiting the Iowa caucus results and then I'll probably have a lot more to say.

Until then, I would just like to remind the entire political machine that asking someone about their position or pointing out a contradiction they have made is NOT an "attack". Stop acting like a bunch of whiny babies every time someone directly asks you something! Just answer the damned question and let's further the dialogue!

The Amazing Christmas Sweater!

2007-12-27T19:53:00.002-05:00

Amazing because Muller knitted it!

Even more amazing because it fit furry!

Furry says it looks even better with a bucket on your head!

Thank you Muller! These pictures are for you!

Oh - and please don't forget to send me the most awesome socks when you finish them! I'll take pictures of those too!

Some Random Moments from Christmas 2007

2007-12-27T19:32:00.002-05:00

First we cleaned out the attic!

Then we chopped down all the trees in the world!

Okay, so really we had a major freeze disaster that ruined most of the trees in the city and left us without power for a week!

But the power came back on and we had The Most Patient cat in the World help us to get in the spirit.

Then, just to make it even more festive it snowed!!!

After that we were far too caught up in the excitement to take any pictures, so I will leave you with one final picture of Bojo, Little Dog and Furry dreaming of sugarplums....

Christmas Letter to America

2007-12-15T19:27:00.001-05:00

Yes, Christmas time is here again and the spirit of giving is in the air. The spirit of whining and asking for stuff is in the air too – and I am not talking about the children who don’t know any better. I am talking about adults who seem to feel that they are deserving of charity. It is to those people I address this letter.

Dear America in December,

If you are reading this you are not poor. You clearly have, not only the ability to read, but also a computer (or computer access.) Are you living from paycheck to paycheck? Congratulations! You are certainly not alone. Lots of people are out there busting their butts just to get by. Rather than making you needy, it means you have a work ethic. It also means you are blessed to have a job. You are not poor.

Do your kids want video games for Christmas? Congratulations! You have a home with electricity and a television. You are not poor.

Are you sad because there are no presents under your tree? Congratulations! You are wealthy enough to have a tree and a home to put it in! Yes, I said wealthy. Many people do not have the luxury of something so frivolous as a Christmas tree; many do not have a home to put one in.

Are your children disappointed because there will be only few, or no presents? Congratulations! You have the opportunity to teach your children that Christmas is not about the presents. Remind yourself of this also, and drop the “I’m a failure” because of it. I understand that as parents we want to give our children everything and to protect them from all hurt or harm. But neither of those things are possible. Our children will, and need to, experience disappointment and pain in order to understand the blessings life does offer them.

Christmas is a Christian holiday originally designed to celebrate the birth of Christ. Granted it has also become a secular “holiday” in that it is celebrated by many who are not Christian. But even a secular Christmas is about more than the presents. It is about traditions: the foods, the gatherings, the songs …the whole shebang. Presents are only ONE SINGLE ASPECT of Christmas, so why put so much importance on them? I wish we could just do away with the whole make a “Christmas list” of things we want and instead, make lists of the many many things we are grateful to have.

I am sorry if your son will not get a Wii; your tree will not be skirted by presents; your Christmas bonus was cut; you haven’t had a vacation in forever or you cannot afford a huge Christmas dinner. Things are rough all over. In case you haven’t noticed our country is at war and the economy sucks. The housing market is crashing; groceries are skyrocketing, and a minimum wage worker must use an entire day’s pay just to fill up his or her car with gas.

On Christmas morning consider gathering your family together and going to a homeless center to serve Christmas dinner; or to help do the laundry from so many people having slept there seeking shelter from the cold; or to play with the children who don’t have friends. Replace the time spent opening presents with time spent talking about how blessed you are.
Tell your family members you love them and celebrate as you can – not as you wish you could. Before you sign yourself up for the angel tree or charity list please ask yourself, “Am I really that poor?”
If you are reading this, then you are not.

Sincerely,

Yellow Dog

I Don't Hate Halloween

2007-10-31T19:22:00.001-04:00

Someone recently tried to accuse me of hating Halloween; an assumption based solely on the fact that I don't participate in the trick-or-treat aspect.

1. I don't hate anything.

2. Would someone who hates Halloween do this to the Most Patient Cat in the World?

Buddha Confession Part 2

2007-05-20T14:15:00.001-04:00

These past few weeks I have been living more like an ordinary person than a Buddha and it has begun to trouble me.

I seriously think I have broken all five precepts, which for you Christians out there is like breaking the commandments.

Do Not Destroy Life: Aside from the giant bug incident of which my hands, if not my Karma remained clean, I have been shamelessly killing ants in my kitchen. Not even just spraying bug spray to keep them away, but literally smashing them with my finger. There are just sooooo many of them. And they are getting into my food. I don't know what else to do. Sigh.

Do Not Steal: For a Buddhist stealing is not just tangibles, but also things like time and ideas. Aside from the fact that I have a new intellectual history hero who all but wrote the final version of some papers for me last semester, I also have been guilty of stealing everyone's time. I've kept Little Dog waiting after school; spent too much time visiting rather than working during the day; and kept my new friend on the phone late into the night.

Do Not Commit Sexual Misconduct: Well, considering Little Dog reads this (Hey my son!) I should probably tread lightly here. I guess I will just say it is untrue to accept the physical embrace of others if they are merely replacement for someone else. It's not about sex, but about intent.

Do Not Lie: Whoa! I think I am actually in the clear on this one. My honesty has been my downfall lately.

Do Not Take Intoxicating Drinks: Um.... well, twice in the past week alone I have been buzzed on wine. Not that there is inherently anything wrong with this. It's just that I drank seeking that irresponsible feeling of silliness. I have also smoked waaaay too much lately.

In addition to all of this I find myself thinking more of the past or daydreaming rather than living in the moment. Rather than increasing my meditation, I have skipped it entirely for a few days. I'm sure the freedom from school work has led to all of this, as for the first time in months I actually have time. But time can be a dangerous thing if one's mind wonders from the moment.
I need to make Katherine her CD (Holla Katherine! I haven't forgotten you!); write Keith a graduation letter; welcome the new neighbors with some sort of gathering; and spend some time with one of Little Dog's friends who deserves to feel special. Basically, I need to get outside my own head and practice a bit more compassion in my own little world.

I just have to figure out how to do get back on the path.

I'm not sure confessing is the right start, but apparently old Catholic habits die hard!

Buddha Confession

2007-05-18T02:03:00.001-04:00

Last weekend there was a horrible gi-normous bug in my entryway. Ordinarily I can deal with the average bug, but this one was BIG. And creepy. Little Dog is worthless when it comes to bugs, as he squeals like a baby mouse and flees at the sight of one.

So, Saturday afternoon we were standing on the stairs, a good length away from this interloper, both of us wondering what to do. I had the phone in hand and was wondering just who was closest for me to call to come shoo the monster out when my neighbor, Ron, pulled in. I darted out the back door and explained the situation. He is not a big fan of the bug himself, but his chivalry is unrivaled. He grabbed a broom and a bucket from the garage and headed to my house. I felt justified when he saw the creature and was visibly astonished at its size.

"What do you want me to do with it?"

"Get it out!"

And with that, he dropped the heavy bucket smack on top of the bug.

Little Dog Shrieked and I must have exclaimed something to the effect of "YOU KILLED IT!" because Ron looked at me like I was crazy.

"Of course I killed it. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"NO! I just wanted it out. It could have lived outside."

"But then it would have come back in?" Ron was confused.

He swept the carcass out the door and into the grass. I thanked him and pronounced him a hero... though not so much from the bug's point of view, I'm sure.

Sometimes it is difficult being a Buddhist amongst heathens.

One of My Personal Heroes

2007-04-29T20:51:00.001-04:00

Okay, so I have one week left until this semester is over, after which I am taking a three month break. Trust me, I have had a lot to say - just no time to say it. That will all change next week when I begin to post my many catch-up posts.

Until then, please read this article about a friend of mine and his family. I admire the hell out of these people and his wife has become my hero.

Get yer Motor Runnin'.....

2007-03-28T15:49:00.001-04:00

What the hell do motorcycles mean in dream language?!

For the past three nights I have had dreams which involved me being the owner of a motorcycle - specifically, a red Harley.

Dream #1: I had taken my red Harley to the shop to have it painted black. When I went to pick it up they had painted it all hippie like with blue and yellow sunflowers. What the hell?! I was extremely pissed!

Dream #2: One of my best friends was telling me about how his wife had left him. My only concern was whether or not he would now let me take him for a ride on my Harley. (He has always been anti-motorcycle.) He agreed, but I then had to admit I did not know how to drive with a passenger.

Dream #3: I was happy to be riding my Harley to school, but when I got there I realized I had not been wearing my helmet and I was appalled at my forgetfulness. The school was also my grammar school and I was late.

What the hell do these freaky dreams mean?! In real life I could not care less about motorcycles. I have never driven one myself. The last time I even rode on one was over 10 years ago.

A coworker suggested the dreams mean I am looking for adventure in my life, but damn! The second 15 years of my life were pretty much nothing but adventure. Those days are behind me. Now all I am consciously looking for is some sleep!

So, if you have any idea what motorcycles in dreams mean let me know. These Harleys must somehow represent something that really does get my motor running.

All caps = Cujo

2007-02-19T22:43:00.001-05:00

How on earth is there anyone out there in this day and age who doesn't know that typing in all caps is wrong?!

It is wrong.

It is a flagrant violation of long-standing netiquette. It is annoying. It is painful to read.

And did I mention it is WRONG?!

See what I did there? I used all caps on the word "wrong" to emphasise it; to make it appear as if I am yelling the word. That's what the caps key is for: Emphasis (well, that and proper nouns.)

It makes me absolutely crazy to receive an e-mail typed in all caps. All lower case bugs too, but I can overlook that. All caps, however, turns me into a sort of Cujo type monster and I want to seek that person out to tell them what a fucking idiot they are.

Sadly, the offender is usually not an extremely educated person. So, can I still get mad at them?

Hell yes I can, because you don't even have to be the sharpest tool in the shed to know that all caps is wrong. It goes beyond just the fact that you are yelling at me. I mean, when you type in all caps you are basically telling me you're ignorant, you want attention, you have no idea how to follow rules and you cannot be bothered to take the time to type an appropriate e-mail. Not only that, but you must not even acknowledge anyone else's posts or e-mails because if you did you would clearly see that typing in caps is not the norm!

Spelling errors bug me too, but again, not to the degree caps do.

Some like-minded blogger once wrote that the Caps Lock key and the Shift key are less than a quarter inch away from each other. So, to not use one or the other and correct your hideous looking e-mail is sheer laziness at its worst. I mean, would it break your finger to just tap one or the other real quick-like?!

There are only two site forums I visit daily. One of them makes me crazy, as there are frequent all-caps posts AND repeated posts asking the same fucking questions. People, please read through at least the day's posts to see if maybe your question has already been answered. Or better yet, read the FAQ. FAQs are incredible things. They are very informative. Honest! I promise!

But no, apparently these people want to jump on the world wide web and start typing their fat lazy fingers off - avoiding the shift key as if it were burning lava and asking their own stupid questions that are probably answered about four posts behind the one they are writing.
Aaaargh!!!!!!!!

The only other thing in my whole life that comes close to enraging me is the global disregard for the fact that "then" and "than" are two different words with two different meanings. They are not interchangeable and you can never have more then or state if, than.

You just cannot. It hurts me when you do.

Woe to the person who e-mails me in all caps AND fucks the then/than thing.

I swear I would end up in the bell tower over that one.

Karma Was Good to Me Today

2007-02-18T23:25:00.001-05:00

I had a very nice day today. Good things kept happening to me. They were small things, but I think sometimes it is the little things that make the bigger picture so much nicer. Everyone remembers to be thankful for healthy babies and near misses, but few remember to be grateful for full bellies and coupons.

But back to my day, which was sunny and beautiful for the first time all winter.

I headed first to the car wash and after I paid for my De-Luxe wash the machine spit out 2 bucks in quarters for me. I paid with a credit card, so it's not like this was change for a ten or anything. I briefly considered the Karma on this one. It was not my money after all, but then, whose was it? There was no attendant on duty to return it to, so I went ahead and tossed it in my console.

Then I headed to the grocery store, where upon my arrival a lady was pulling out of the very first spot by the door! Not only that, but as she closed her trunk she asked me if I wanted her to leave the cart for me. Hell yeah! There are never carts available inside this store!

So I did my shopping and headed out to put my own groceries in the trunk. As I was finishing a man and woman walked by and offered to take my cart for me. Yes!

I decided to go through the drive through for some fries and counted out my change to pay. When I got to the window and handed the money to the guy he leaned back out and asked, "Do you have four more pennies?" Apparently I had given him the wrong change. I told him no, but that I did have another quarter. He smiled and said, "Nah, don't worry about the four cents." Not a big deal, by any stretch, but then again, it was, because to me it was an example of a positive human spirit. I would have been far less surprised if he had refused to give me my fries until the four cents was paid, while acting as if I had attempted armed robbery or something.

Anyway, I gave my thanks to the universe for a wonderful day and plan on throwing a couple of bucks in the next donation can I pass. Pay it forward!

Superman?

2007-02-06T09:32:00.001-05:00

He may wear the shirt, but he’s no Superman!

Furry threw himself down the steps at his house and managed to obtain a gash in his forehead deep enough to require stitches. I figure this was part of his ongoing effort to assess our city’s emergency response services.

He arrived at the ER with his panicked parents and was quickly triaged and given a temporary bandage. While they waited for the suture room, Furry blew kisses to an adoring crowd of fellow ER visitors.

Once it was finally his turn, he bravely let them put three stitches in his tiny forehead without complaining. The only thing he did was ask repeatedly (about every 20 seconds) during the procedure, “All done now?”

Once he was “all done” he was released with a follow up appointment to have the stitches removed the following week.

He came to see me the next day, and when I asked if he had hurt his head he shrugged, as if to say “no biggie” and promptly proceeded to try and jump down the stairs.

This kid may be small, but he knows no fear!

Lists

2007-01-21T21:37:00.001-05:00

Maybe it's the ice storms we've been having. Maybe it's the new year. Maybe it's the break between semesters at school. All I know is that I have been doing more this month than I have in a long time. I've been cooking like crazy, catching up on my reading, cleaning out the house and generally thinking a lot.

What I've cooked this week: Chocolate chip cookies, homemade broccoli cheddar soup, Italian chicken with wild rice, a creme cheese coffee cake, my incredible Reuben sandwiches, spinach quiche, pumpkin cookies and a huge Mexican feast including fajitas.

Books I've read so far this year (with opinions) : Good Body, by Eve Ensler ( not as good a Vagina Monologues), Horse Play, by someone whose name I can't remember (An amusing quick mindless fiction read.) How it All Vegan and The Garden of Vegan, both by Tanya Barnard & Sarah Kramer (Cool gals who are really really into the vegan way of life. I didn't read every single recipe, but I did read all of the commentary.) The Gordon Ramsay Biography, by Neil Simpson (Loved it! I have such a crush on Gordon!) Several books by Thich Nhat Hanh, whom I admire greatly! (Little Dog has even been embracing Buddhism and letting Hahn's books guide him.) Women Who Eat, an anthology of essays about food, written by women (Okay book.) Mere Mortal's Guide to Fine Dining (A great book written for the lay person. I didn't think I had much to learn on the subject, but this book taught me a lot.) I've also read all the current issues of my favourite magazines, plus some popular mags while waiting in the doc's office.

Things that have provoked me to opine: The media frenzy and public judgement/speculation about Shawn Hornbeck. (Nobody has the right to judge him.) The announcement of Hillary's candidacy & Republican presidents vs. Democrat ones. (Duh.) People who can't seem to grasp the fact that being parent means modifying your lifestyle. (I won't mention any names.) People who pretend to be something they are not in order to impress someone else. (What work! I am what I am and I don't need anyone else's validation.) The importance of pool safety. (WS? I'm talking to you! Have a damned fence put in by Spring!) How we define conflict and how little of it I have in my life now.

Things I want to do this year: Take Little Dog to the west coast for his first view of the ocean. Finish my degree. Learn more. Eat healthier. Put the crown molding in the kitchen and perhaps lay wood floors in the living room. Pay off the car. Visit Muller in Detroit and drive up to Canada. Volunteer more with Little Dog. Perhaps spend some time in New York over the holidays so I can skate with my kiddo in Rockefeller Center.

That's enough lists for now. Happy New year!

Furry Meets the Firemen

2007-01-21T02:30:00.001-05:00

Furry Furry, with the big blue eyes - Oh how I adore that child!

He turned two this month and decided to put the T in Terrible, by locking his dad out of the house and seizing the opportunity to wreak havoc.

We have been having terrible ice storms here, and as such, WS (Furry's dad) has been having more trouble than most with the walking-on-the-ice skill. Maybe it's because, having grown up in England, he doesn't have a lot of experience with the kind of ice we deal with every winter here in the Midwest U.S.

Anyway, he was being particularly careful the other night when he took Furry home to wait for Bojo. He carefully carried him into the house and set him by inside the door before returning to he car for the bags. He had not made it down a single step when he heard, "Bye Bye daddy" and the distinct click of the lock.

Now, I have been the first to condemn WS for some of his past actions, but for this one, he has my complete sympathy.

I know I would certainly not want to have to call Bojo to tell her that her precious babe was currently "home alone." Heh heh.

But WS did make the call, and also the call to the fire department to break into the fortress Bojo calls home.

Meanwhile, ever the attentive and resourceful dad, he realised he could poke his fingers through the mail slot on the front door to hold it open, and therefore keep an eye on Furry.

Furry, however, was having no part of the fun new talk-to-daddy-through-the-mail-slot game. Instead he headed straight to his most sought after forbidden fascination: the china cabinet.

"Wow," he must have been thinking, "Now I can touch all those pretty dishes mummy never lets me touch!"

And touch he did! WS got to watch as Furry touched all the china. And by touch, I do mean picked up, dropped, and shattered.

Put yourself in WS's place for a moment now. You are kneeling on your ex-wife's front porch in sub-freezing weather with your hand wedged into a mail slot watching your toddler son systematically break nearly every piece of your family's generations-old-shipped-from-England family china.

On top of that, you know your ex-wife, who has the temper of a rabid dog, is on her way home to (presumably) kill you.

Meanwhile, your beloved blue eyed boy has only one word for you, "Uh-oh," uttered in your general direction after each shattering crash.

In the end, the fire department was able to break through a window and gain access to the house. When they opened the door, Bojo and WS rushed in to find Furry standing amidst shards of glass looking a bit confused as to why there were a firemen in his living room.

After bandaging some minor cuts on his hands the firemen posed for pictures with Harry, who kept repeating, "Firetruck? Uh-Oh!"

Uh-Oh is right my adorable little imp of a nephew! I now have an even bigger soft spot in my heart for the little shite. This is the stuff family history is made of! It is what childhood is about - the breaking of glass and the colouring on walls; the flooding of the bath tubs and the pudding spilled on the rug.

Each scar, every stain and all the chaos is evidence that he is a normal, healthy, inquisitive little brat!

But he is our little brat, and even though he is sticky and messy and constantly in possession of at least one bandage and "boo boo" I still would not have him any other way.

She did it!

2007-01-21T02:21:00.001-05:00

Hillary did it! She formally and officially announced!

I should be elated. I have long been a huge fan of the Clintons. I think Hillary is brilliant. As feminist, the idea of a woman as President rocks!

However, I am surprisingly unmoved by her announcement.

I think timing is everything and I just do not think we, as a country, are ready for Hil'.

I have always believed Hillary to be an ambitious woman, so in that respect it does not surprise me.

I also know she is a powerful woman, with the friends and the finances to make this happen.

But I have also always believed her to put the well being of the party first and foremost and frankly, I just do not think this is good for our party.

I have already stated my reasons in other posts, but to sum up: I don't think she can win.

I may eat my words. Hell, I may even completely change my opinion and pledge my sole support to her campaign.

Right now though, I just am not sure.

Are we ready?

2007-01-16T19:11:00.001-05:00

Below is my response to a young friend's excited e-mail about Obama's seemingly impending announcement as Presidential Candidate:

He would make an excellent running-mate for Edwards.

But I think he, like Hillary, would be quite a long-shot for President.

He needs to start lower and work his way up. His press is good, but he truly does not have the experience to run the country. He also has no military background, which in this election, is going to be almost crucial.

Do not get me wrong. I like Obama, the man. I just do not feel he (yet) has the qualifications to run our country. The Democrats are pretty much poised to take the presidency in 2008. The public is disgusted by the Iraq situation and ready for change. Even many Republicans are ready to swing their votes over to the blue side. Even though all looks good for our party peeps, do not be lulled into a false sense of security. The position is still very fragile. Throw in a Clinton (any Clinton - Bill or Hillary) and they have such a polarizing effect on people it would push a lot of those swing votes right back to the republican side.

Hatred for the Clintons ran very deep.

Then there is the whole woman/black man as President thing. Is our country really ready to elect either?

Remember, this is the country that elected the Bushes three times, despite their sordid past. This is also the country that stood for the vote count scandal of2000 when a freakin' Bush was counting the votes! We still have a large Klan population and hate groups have been on the upswing since the 80s. Will America really elect a black man to the highest office in the land?

And frankly, though we laugh at the political pundits' jokes, the name is still a big problem. Not everyone who votes is a one of the sharpest pencils in the cup.

Though he is a black man, Obama is a very "white" black man, with very positive press, no known scandals, and a helluva lot of charisma. I think that could surely get him a great running-mate slot, which would then give him experience and the opportunity to prove his worth, character and abilities to the moderate public.

I am all about an Edwards/Obama or Clinton (or even Henry, which would be an awesome addition that could quite possibly turn our red state blue in 2008.)

But Henry has expressed no aspirations of such, and the Big B and Capital H both aspire higher.

So, for now, we just wait and see how this all plays out...

What have I not been doing?

2007-01-15T05:02:00.001-05:00

It has been a couple of months since I last posted, so I feel an explanation is in order.

Since October I have been incredibly busy not doing school work. It has consumed almost my every waking thought. I haven not read a book, gone out to dinner, entertained guests or even taken a really long bath because... I have papers to write.

But have I written them?

Sadly, no.

I thought, when I decided to return to school, that the bad habits of my youth would be gone now. Rather than procrastinate about my papers I figured I would now manage my time so wisely that I would be turning papers in early.

Ha!

The only thing I can say in my own defense is that when I decided to go back to school I did not know that the firm would decide to expand; therefore I could not have foreseen the increase in my workload.

I also did not know that I would end up having to have minor surgery, nor did I know that said surgery would turn out to be not-so-minor and take weeks to recover from.

I did know that Christmas would occur, but I did not foresee that it would sneak up on me like a parent outside a teen's bedroom. I mean, I was all relaxed and sleepy; groovin' on my own high and then BOOM! Christmas cards were arriving and the whole back-to-school section at Target had been replaced with lights and ornaments.

*sigh*

So, I auto piloted through Thanksgiving; experienced Christmas as though in a vortex; typed my way through the entire New Year's weekend and here I am.

It's January 15th and I am 3 papers away from finishing last semester's 15 hours.

Tomorrow I start 15 more.

Uh... Maybe I should go ahead and cancel Christmas 2007....

Food stuffs

2007-01-15T04:55:00.001-05:00

I did not know how to cook until I was 28 and pregnant with Little Dog. Prior to that I had no interest in cooking at all. Kitchens were merely places for storing my smokes and caffeine. Restaurants were invented for people like me.

I learned to cook one reason: I was pregnant and I was hungry! I ate like an elephant, but thankfully never looked like one. I consistently lost weight and ended up weighing 2 pounds less when I delivered than I had when I conceived. I had tiny little bird legs and a big huge belly full of baby.

During the pregnancy I craved my mom’s old fashioned cooking. She made me meatloaf, roast with potatoes, macaroni and cheese and even Jell-O with Cool Whip mixed in. She would tell me dinner was ready and then warn everyone else to watch out for my flailing limbs as I frantically shoveled huge helpings onto my plate.

So, while my mom cooked me dinners, that still left breakfast and lunch unmanned. At the time my entire experience with “cooking” consisted of making nachos in the microwave, heating a can of Campbell’s and memorizing the pizza delivery number.

Nine months later I had become quite an accomplished chef! By the time RB and I were married I was putting a full meat-and-potatoes meal on the table every night. I was dazzling friends with my new found culinary skills. Of course since I no longer had a baby inside me who sucked away all the calories for his own nourishment, I also got fat. I considered it a small price pay for chicken cordon bleu with wild rice and steamed asparagus … for lunch!

I was also adamant that Little Dog would never eat processed baby foods. Nothing against the Gerber baby, but to me, if you are going to feed your baby that processed and preservative laden crap you may as well just go ahead and feed him or her little bits of plastic directly. Bojo tried to tell me that now they have “all natural” baby food with no preservatives. That, my friends is bullshit. You cannot steam some fresh green beans, puree them, slap them in a sealed container, ship them across the country and then let them sit unrefrigerated on a shelf until purchased and expect them not to be absolutely rancid UNLESS you add a bunch of preservatives. It just cannot be done.

So, I simply pureed some of whatever we were eating for dinner to feed to Little Dog and it worked out great!

Little Dog was a vegan until he was about 1½ years old, and then he was a vegetarian until he was 7. Around then he discovered that he loved ground beef tacos and fajita chicken. Now that he is 14 he is once again thinking about choosing vegetarianism. He has always been a big advocate for animal rights and now he is questioning whether or not he feels okay about eating meat. I told him I would back him up whatever he decides. I am not a big meat eater myself, so no biggie to me.

What is a big deal, however, is the fact that despite my best intentions with regards to his diet, Little Dog grew into the pickiest eater in the entire world. He eats what I like to call the “beige” diet. If it is not beige, he most likely will not eat it. Chicken, cheese, breads, tortillas, potatoes…even hominy, are all on his approved list. Tomatoes (including ketchup) green vegetables and most fruits are most definitely NOT on his list.

When he was young I did the following things:

Asked his pediatrician if he could get scurvy. (She said no.)

Refused to let him have anything “special” for dinner. It was either our meal or no meal. (He went without eating on those nights)

Forced him to try “just a bite” of, say, carrots or spaghetti. (He gagged. It wasn’t pretty.)

Finally gave up and accepted the beige diet. I packed his lunch box with a bagel and Golden Delicious apple slices; bought him plain cheerios and corn flakes for breakfast; learned to cook chicken about 87 different ways.

So, when he suggested he might go vegetarian it did take a certain measure of control not to laugh. But in the end I am supportive. I have bought him books on the subject and stocked the larder with options. We will just take it day-by day and see how it goes.

It does not, however, bode well that so far he has rejected three different homemade soups, refused tofu outright, and thinks veggie burgers taste like "pieces of paper mixed with chewy stuff."

I do believe he thinks being vegetarian means eating cheese pizza every night.

I have news for him: I forgot the pizza delivery number back in 1992.

A Post for Muller

2006-12-20T00:17:00.006-05:00

Life's been keeping me busy. It's almost Christmas and my brain is still stuck somewhere back around November 3rd.

Seriously.

But, since I promised Muller a picture here's a quick post.

Zombie Morning: Pre makeup or hair "biggening." Just sleepy nearsighted me.

Full on Zombie: You can't see my Bride of Frankenstein forehead beehive, or my yellow/green decayed fake teeth, but trust me. They were there. As were ornate Mexican silver earrings that were severely tarnished to an almost black. Damn I do good rotting flesh!

I was an awesome Zombie! I still can't believe I got beat out by a friggin' clown.

Sigh.

So sue me. Not.

2006-10-26T16:14:00.001-04:00

First, I have a public service announcement which apparently a LOT of the public needs to hear:
You cannot sue someone simply because you were inconvenienced.

Did everyone hear that?

I do not care what you saw on Law and Order, what you read in a John Grisham novel, or what the Republicans want you to believe. You cannot do it.

If you could, I would have sued Walgreen’s, the public school system, my paperboy and the cable company – and that is just so far this morning!

Second, Tort Reform is NOT a good thing people! Frivolous lawsuits simply do not occur to the degree some would like you to believe. In fact, many so called frivolous lawsuits are actually myths created by the media.

And I swear, if any one of you cites the McDonald’s coffee lady as the uber example of how out-of-hand it has all become, I will….well, let us just say you will probably want to sue me for what I will do to you.

Currently running in my city there is a campaign commercial for a Republican Candidate for Senator. In this commercial his outspoken supporter states that the Democratic opponent is *gasp* a Trial Lawyer! Not only that, but a large portion of his campaign funds were contributed by *outraged face* other Trial Lawyers!

Wow. Okay, so why is this an issue? It seems that Attorneys have always been a politically minded group of people. It is a profession which generally produces a nice income for its peeps, so they certainly have the means to make donations. I wonder what other professions might have the same means….Oh yeah….

DOCTORS! Yes, they too make large campaign donations. In fact, the very Doctor, come Senator speaking in the commercial was backed largely by those of his own profession.

This is an issue now because the republicans would like you to believe that without tort reform we will become a crazed mess of frivolous lawsuits and all the doctors will flee our land to seek elsewhere a happy doctor nirvana where they never get sued.

Uh…folks? They are not going anywhere ‘k? They are not going anywhere there is socialized medicine, and they are not going anywhere the public cannot afford them, so guess what? They are gonna suck it up and stay right where they are because really, they have a pretty good gig here in America.

And we must keep holding them responsible. That is what this whole tort reform mess is about. It is not about stupid shit; it is about when a doctor makes a mistake that could have been prevented. It is about when a company knowingly markets an unsafe product.

Yes, people are human and errors occur – no attorney with a decent reputation would sue over an unforeseeable error. But when said error occurs just because someone was being lazy, or negligent, or cocky…well…….

Fact: It is not easy to win a medical malpractice, or a products liability case.

Fact: It costs a ton of money to pursue these cases. So much so, that even a mid sized firm could be bankrupted by the costs of pursuing a losing case.

In 2005, Victor Schwartz, General Counsel of the American Tort Reform Association, acknowledged that “it is very rare that frivolous suits are brought against doctors. They are too expensive to bring.”

Hello? Read that again, just to make sure it sinks in.

According to the U.S. Government’s National Practitioner Databank’s most recent annual report, that the nationwide median award in malpractice cases is $170,000. This is a far cry from the millions the republicans would have you believe are awarded on an almost daily basis.

So, the next time you want to call me and discuss suing your landlord because the air conditioning went out in the middle of the night and he did not rush over at 3am with a new system for you (not in any way what “reasonable” means) or you want to sue Toyota because the bulb in your vanity light popped and it scared you (“I almost” means nothing. Move along and be glad you did not actually wreck.) Or you want to sue your neighbor because he keeps talking to the other neighbors about your drug addiction, your eight bratty kids and your suicide attempt (You told him about the drug addiction, your kids are brats and the ambulance woke everyone up at 5 am) well, do not call me because I will simply tell you to take it up with your parents because apparently they raised you with the mistaken impression that life was fair and always nice.

And no, you cannot sue them for it.

Zombie: Trial Run

2006-10-26T11:39:00.001-04:00

Never send a shop-a-holic to the mall to pick up one single $5 item. It will take hours. They will spend lots of your money. You will be left amusing their baby for hours.

At least this is what happened to me last night.

Little Dog wanted to go to the game store in the mall. Since I generally eschew the mall in favour of my neighborhood free-standing Gap (which has everything I could possibly need) he asked Bojo to take him.

It seemed like a great plan, since she was coming over for pizza anyway. I even agreed to let Furry stay with me while they ran by the mall and then picked up the pizza. I also asked Bojo if she would pop into the Halloween store and pick up a bottle of Zombie Rot for me.

To make a long story short, they returned 4 hours later. Four hours during which I fed, bathed, played with, sang to and endlessly rocked Furry. Now, even though Furry is currently the sweetest toddler in the world, it is still exhausting to watch him. I mean, he requires constant supervision, lest he fall down the stairs in my three level home or put The Most Patient Cat in the World in the toilet or something.

Oh, and my bottle of Zombie Rot? In addition to her bags and bags of clothing she squeezed in a mini shopping spree to the Halloween store. I got four tins of grease paint – including clown red (?), a bottle of fake blood, a bottle of fake flesh, and some green and dirty-looking prosthetic monster teeth.

What the fuck?

Here’s the deal: For the first time EVER in my life, I am dressing up for Halloween. I’m doing this largely because the firm, for some reason, decided to host a huge Halloween party on the 31st. Okay, so Zombies are fairly easy to do, and they’re cool, right? So I figured I could do a creepy Zombie face and be done with it.

Well, Bojo brought me the makings of a movie quality zombie. I am not kidding! I did a practice run last night and freaked my own self out. I had rotting flesh, blue lips, and bloody congealed wounds (Let’s say just say I was a newly-dead zombie, whose blood hadn’t completely run out.) The only problem is my hair.

See, I have red hair – not exotic flaming red; beautiful deep burnt burgundy, but just average Danny Bonaduce-red hair. I’ve considered dying it brighter red for the occasion – just for the contrast with uber pail skin. I’ve also considered spraying it black with that fake stuff. I just don’t know!

I never realized the headaches I had avoided by never dressing up for Halloween. This crap is kind of addictive. I mean, I sort of want to go back to the Halloween store and see what else I can find to enhance my character. But there’s only one problem.

The Halloween store is in the mall and I am not committed enough to my character to embrace method acting and actually join the Zombie-like mall crawling masses.

::Shudder::

Now that is scary.

Gratitude: Live it. Learn it. Feel it.

2006-10-19T12:22:00.001-04:00

Well, I just completed another nine hours towards my latest degree pursuit! Woo hoo! It’s my birthday! It’s my birthday!

No, really. It is my birthday, or at least it was a couple of days ago.

My 42nd passed without much ado. Little Dog got me the old school Pac Man game for Gameboy, so I spent my birthday night trying to play it. Turns out, I suck. I am a shame to my game genius son, who has been the go-to guy for video gaming strategy since he was about 7.

In other news, I finally had my follow up mammogram. I had to put a funky zipper looking sticker on the scar from the last surgery, but alas, no nipple BBs. (Holla Muller!) Best part? I remain cancer free!

My sister is also cancer free! Not that there was ever any doubt in anyone’s mind. My dear hypochondriac sis had convinced herself, in her own mind, that she did, indeed have cancer. Why, you ask? Simply because the tech made an innocuous comment about an odd spot on her x-ray. You absolutely positively cannot do this with my sis. No amount of rational talk could convince her that this did not mean cancer. Finally, after a week of anxious phone calls and hysteria, probably after she already had the casket ordered and the lid open and ready, she went back to the doc, who told her (Duh!) the spot was nothing but an anomaly.

It got me to thinking, though. I just do not worry about death too much. I mean, it would suck and all, but then really, how would I know? I would be dead. I will not waste my time living with a fear of dying. Anyway, you know the old saying: Tell God you have a plan, and he laughs!

It is true. I had a plan once. I was gonna go to law school. I got all my crazy partying behind me, embraced undergrad studies, and then, in what was basically my senior year, I found out I was pregnant.

So, I made another plan. I was gonna do the “right thing” and marry RB; be the “perfect” wife and mother, and live happily ever after. God really threw his head back at that one. He probably even turned to the angel beside him and said, “Is she for real?”

It took me almost a decade to give up on that plan. Not that I didn’t try to make it work. But when your get up each day dreading what your life has become; when you are ill more than you are well; when you have no respect for the person you see the most; when you’ve forgotten what true love feels like, and when you feel like you really have become one of Eliot’s Hollow Men

… it’s time to reassess.

So I finally decided to just enjoy life without any ultimate plan. These days I pretty much do and pursue what I want.

I do not even plan ahead for dinner, lest the gods start snickering.

But it’s been really cool. I find myself accomplishing more and more because I allow my self to pursue my passions. I travel when I want, see who I want and walk away when I need to. I’m not longer caught up in the societal “shoulds” of our world. Do not get me wrong: Goals are great. But when we become so caught up in the pursuit of the goal that we cannot be mindful in the moment….well, that’s not what I want my life to be about.

I cannot say it enough people: It is all about gratitude for the life that we have.

Dateline: 10-10-06 Finals Week

2006-10-10T20:07:00.001-04:00

Can I just tell you a few of the things I would rather be doing than writing the three final papers I have due?

First: I'd rather be uploading all my CDs to itunes and burning incredible mixes.

Second: I'd rather be harassing Little Dog some more to continue the theme I started on the drive home from school today where I kept playing Dolly Parton's "Love is Like a Butterfly" repeatedly AND SINGING ALONG in my very best loud Karaoke voice. But since I've caught him twice already humming the chorus I think my work for the night is done there.

Heh heh.

I'd also rather be editing a stack of poems that has been sitting on my desk since school started.

I'd really rather be laying on the couch daydreaming my current ongoing fantasy in which Brendan Fraser plays my beloved husband.

Come on, You know you have to admit he was cute in Blast From the Past. Then, he really brought the cool in his role as Jordan's brother on Scrubs.

(FWIW in the above mentioned fantasy we live in a fabulous house on the strand; Little Dog has grown his hair out and morphed into a cooler, smarter, drug-free Spicoli type, and we have a new baby daughter named Sophie. But I digress....)

My point is that even though almost everything I'd rather be doing is creative I still cannot focus enough to "create" these final papers. It's not even that they will be that hard. Hell, two of them will be fairly easy. I've known for 8 weeks now that these papers would be due on the 15th and yet I have not written a single word.

Okay, now compare that to the fact that I only found last Friday out that I need to provide the music for this year's Christmas party and I've already sketched out a complete play list.

I simply don't work well in academia unless under deadline. AND THAT SUCKS!

Every morning I leave the house with the intention of coming home after work and sitting right down at the computer to do school work.

Then, every night I come home and I am so tired that I just want to take a shower and crawl into bed.

But I don't.

Instead, I putz around doing mindless chores, then I return e-mails, then I cook dinner, then I spend "quality time" with Little Dog via video games or Scrubs re-runs. Then I have to call Furry and listen to his latest new words, which makes me miss him and Bojo so I invite them over and then when they leave I have to de-stick-ify every surface in the house because Furry is the stickiest baby I've ever known. Then I sit down on the couch with a glass of wine and I think about how wonderful my life in my 40's really is...

Then it hits me:

I STILL HAVE TO WRITE THOSE FUCKING PAPERS!

Argh!

And I even know, from experience, that I will feel an obscene amount of pride when I complete them, and an even more extreme sense of relief at having another week's reprieve from academia.

And yet, here I sit, writing about not writing.

*sigh*

Oops, gotta go! Scrubs is on!

Jimmy Choo Who?

2006-10-03T00:21:00.001-04:00

My feelings for designer shoes run pretty close to my feelings for Hummers. That is, why on earth does anyone want to spend that kind of money on an item that's primary purpose is it's functionality? Shoes are nothing more than protection for your feet - warm in winter, off the burning pavement in summer. That, and protecting you soles from being impaled by sharp objects is the entire job of your footwear.

Oh, but "looking good is their job too!" you say?

All I can say is that for a girl, I am pretty guy-ish about my footwear. I don't wear cheaply made shoes and I don't wear uncomfortable shoes. That pretty much sums up my shoe criteria. Oh yeah, I also don't like much colour in my footwear. Pretty much, a good pair of black and a decent pair of brown can complete my shoe wardrobe requirements. Throw in a cool pair of kicks for spontaneous sports-like activity (should I ever decide to indulge in such a thing) and a fantastic pair of riding boots and I am set for any situation.

I once wore nothing (on my feet) but a pair of Birkenstocks - for an entire year. Wool socks in the winter and red toes in the summer. Yes, I even wore them with a really pretty slip dress to my father-in-law's wedding. No, I am not ashamed.

I know I will never be a shoe slave. I also know I will never be a lipstick wearer.

That though, I would sometimes really like to be. The act of putting on lipstick is sensual to perform and also to watch. Rubbing the lips with a semi-soft phallic shaped piece of wax ...It has its erotic aspects. I love how women put on their lipstick and end the process by pressing their lips together and then gaze smugly into the mirror.

I, however, after applying said stain to my lips, look in the mirror and I hear the the soundtrack to "Joker Fish" from the old Batman TV series. You know, the one where the Joker poisons all of Gotham's water and the fish end up with grotesquely huge red clown-like lips. Then in a brilliant marketing ploy he promotes the ghastly "laughing fish" via commercials where Harley Quinn sings:

They're finny and funny
and oh so delish,
They're joyful and jolly -
Joe - ker fish!

The point is, I feel comical. Painted. Clownish. Advertised.

And what, exactly is it that I am marketing? My luscious full lips smack in the middle of my unpainted face? My horrifically pale skin by comparison? The contrasting (read: clashing) shade of my red hair?

Last Christmas Bojo had a product called "Lip Venom" on her wish list. I asked her what the hell this was and she said, "It's to make my lips look like freakin Angelina Jolie's!"

While I did not believe this to be any noble aspiration, I did find her excitement at the prospect hilarious. I bought her this gift solely for the entertainment value. That Christmas we sat around amidst the torn wrapping paper and strewn bows and forcibly applied this wickedly named product (Venom? C'mon) liberally to the lips of the entire family and then spent an hilarious hour doing our best Jolie impersonations for the camera.

It was worth every penny. Especially for the following memory it invoked.

1976: My family was at the state fair. My mom bit into a fluffy pink cloud of cotton candy and was stung on the lips by a bee.

This is how we all learned that some people (mom included)are, indeed, allergic to bee stings and swell up in complete disproportion to the size of the offending bee.

Who knew my mom was such a trend setter ahead of her time?

If only we had taken pictures of that!