For the Love of Cats

It was during the family (extended) Christmas celebration that my sister brought us all up to her house to see the little family that had settled in on her porch. Three little kittens and a Momma Cat whose tail you can see just a little bit of as she moves in for a petting. Of course, we all "ooh'ed and aah'ed" and thought to ourselves "how very cute, too bad we can't take them home with us."


That evening, after a second visit which included a bit of wine, we crossed paths this this little bunch again. This time the kittens were all huddled up in a group and the Momma Cat was standing outside their home, ready to do battle with any threat. So very brave!

Oh the cold. Oh the risk of perishing at the hands of a wild animal. My heart clenched. What to do?

On Sunday I called my sister and said "post pictures - we have possible adoptive homes." Within an hour my friend Jane had signed up for two kittens and we were taking the Momma. Baby Gray was still up for grabs but would stay with one of us until he was old enough to move on.

Earliest vet appointment would be today (Wednesday) so at 7'ish in the morning Chris and I dashed to Sis's house (about 40 minutes away), helped my Brother-in-Law scoop up all of the cats, and we raced back to the vet for a 9 am appointment.




Momma and two kittens quickly settled in comfortably on the scale - altogether weighing a whopping 13 lbs.













While Abigail (the Siamese) decided to play with the air vent.








With all four sneezing, eyes running, and quite a bit of general stinky-ness, the vet pronounced them adorable but quite sick. Meds were prescribed.

We'd begun learning how to administer everything with very patient Vet Assistants taking us through the entire process when the kindly Doctor walked back through the door and gravely announced that Momma Cat had FILV (Cat Aids.) There was nothing else to do, they would all have to be tested. Blood was drawn, pathetic mews were heard, and then we settled in to wait.

Baby Gray was tired of the cold floor. So he climbed up Chris's pant leg and settled in for a nice nap.



And there we all waited.

When the vet came back the news was mixed.

Abigail and "Beau" (the grey striped kitten) were fine. But Baby Gray also had cat aids and was sick enough that possible recovery was slim to none. He would not be going home with anyone.

As we stood there holding him, he drifted to sleep curled in our warmth and we thought "how quickly a small cat can wriggle his way into your heart." We didn't leave him, even as he took his last struggling breath. Having an animal die in your arms, no matter the reason, is just as hard at 43 as it was at 16. But it was the right decision.

Momma Cat, who we were ready for back home, was also destined for a different road. Her FILV status meant that there was risk to Fluff & Snickers, the two grey tabbies we've had for 9 and 14 years respectively. A foster family had been found and the vet would care for her until she was well enough for the spaying surgery we gladly paid for. Fortunately, we also learned that she wasn't pregnant again, something we'd feared.



After all of this we decided to keep Beau - calling my daughter to announce the decision and having her laugh at us because, once again, we were adding a grey tabby to the household. But I suspect my niece will be thrilled to know she'll see her playmate again.

A thousand dollars later and three cats will have much better lives. Maybe a little good Karma for us.

On the other hand, I am unbelievably angry at the people responsible for failing to spay and neuter - and likely dumping the Momma in the first place. We don't think all the kittens were hers but at least one was. Had it not been for the warm hearts of my sister's family, and eventually our own cat love, it could have been a much different story.

So, if you are reading this and you have an un-neutered pet, get off your ass and fix the situation.

NL

Corporate Blogs: Srsly?

I can't tell you how many time I've heard the advice given to have "corporate blogs." And lately they seem to be EVERYWHERE. Weight Watchers has a couple their members are advised to follow - but I don't because they are inane. Every politician it seems has one and they are all written by, well, someone else. Dell has one but I couldn't find it, not that I looked all that hard. So do GM, Yahoo, and Google. Amazon has a few to include one for the Kindle.

This afternoon I was getting ready to install the Neat Works scanner when I noticed the instructions reminding me to go their website blog which I assume is their way of saying "hey, we're hip. we're cool. we don't capitalize or spell out words unnecessarily."

In fact what their blog was, as they all seem to be, was a news reel in text about their products.

Look. I have no problem with companies blogging. But I'd like them to actually "get" what blogs are. So instead of finding my way to a marketing page for some company masquerading as a CEO telling me what he's thinking and yawning through the drivel I find - why not actually have the guy SAY it?

If you go out to HP's website and do a search on the word 'Blog' you'll come up with some pretty good ones. They don't seem to be recent, maybe current economic events have the honest bloggers running to the hills corporately, I don't know.

But I do know that if, for instance, one of the major car makers - like GM maybe - had the guts to say on a blog post something like "hey guys, big lesson learned for me - when you make cars, drive, do not fly to Washington when you are begging. Wow do I feel stupid. I promise never to do that again!" I'd be the first one in line to help turn the company around.

Or how about one like this from maybe a senior manager of AIG "Yikes! Sorry about that. We totally screwed up but we're going to fix it and here's how. First, we're going to go for a little financial transparency. We're also going to clean house and we're going to start with the guys with the big bonus checks - this year the mailroom employees get one instead."

But no. Instead we take one of the most powerful things about blogs - the human voice connected to human brains - and completely water it down and feed to people like strained & processed peas. It tastes no better than it looks.

All the folks out there claiming to be PR and Social Media folks - knock it off. The readers can tell the difference between corporate message and a real blog. You ought to be able to as well.

NL

Oh J - You Troublemaker

Fans of the Myers-Briggs will recognize the list making obsession that characterizes the "J" trait. The fourth indicator suggests a preference for either spontaneity or list making.

I am a J.

If I'm feeling stressed I "make a list." If I'm feeling like I have entirely too much to do in a short period of time I "make a list." If I'm going somewhere, starting a new project, taking on a new hobby I "make a list." I have even been known to make lists of lists I need to make.

Last summer, before starting out on our 45 day cross country RV trip, I had a list of lists that included: RV Stocking & Readiness, Work wrap-up, Pet Prep, Household Readiness, and Gwen.

I'm not a purist. I like things a bit open-ended and it's not unusual for me to dive right in to a last minute something just because. Sort of like, well, NaNoWriMo, which I decided to do literally hours before it was to begin. This gets me in trouble because although I crave order, I'm not particularly good at maintaining it.

This morning I was up and about a wee bit early because Chris is headed into the office and one of my favorite things is morning coffee with him. Sipping away at my eggnog enhanced brew I curled up on the couch for a visit - knowing that although he was headed in, I was still off for the rest of the week.

Oh, but I was distracted.

Every year, the week between Christmas and New years, I take off and I spend that week creating order. Because I do this I pretty much put off creating order at any other time during the month of December. Then I dive in, pull everything out, and start sorting through the previous year of my life.

This year the in-process piles include several magazines which reflect either interests or things I'd hoped to become interested in at some point during the previous 12 months. So, among the piles on the floor are "Shop Smart" for my love of bargain hunting, "Body & Soul" - a Martha Stewart empire (you go girl) magazine devoted entirely to health and spirituality which was my goal for 2008 when it was still 2007 and I'm pretty sure I got nowhere with, "Highways" and "Motorhome" magazines which are our bibles for RV'ing, and "QST" - thanks to my newly re-acquired ham radio license.

Near those piles are stacks of bills - none of which have been opened or are late because electronic bill-pay has made my life much more manageable, some PeaPod receipts which are the result of my discovering home delivery for groceries, various software packages also reflecting my interests over the year - scrap booking, genealogy, photography - and then the various gadgets which may or may not work.

I have a lot to do. And only a few days to do it in. Oh, and I forgot. My 2009 Franklin Covey set. Oh how I love FC. This past summer, while in Salt Lake City, I actually visited the FC global headquarters and their attached store. I felt like I'd come to Mecca.

And then there are the KITTENS!

Because during the family Christmas my sister introduced me to a momma cat and a litter who had taken up residence on my sister's porch. Her husband, for all the right reasons, called Animal Control to come pick them up but this had not yet happened. She and her children have fallen in love with all four of them (3 kittens and one cat who looks like she's about to drop another litter) and know that if AC gets there before homes are found then it is likely the end of the line for all of them.

So I got in touch with a friend who offered to take two kittens. My sis thinks she's found a home for the baby gray. I will take the momma and deal with the potential litter when the time comes. It will be her last litter, I promise you. And if I find the person who dumped this brave and friendly young mother I will stick my foot out and trip them...then yell at them for not having the sense to have her spayed.

But first we need to gather up all of them and get them to the vet.

Which is who I should be calling instead of blogging.

And staring at those piles on my floor. Which are less likely to be sorted through if I've been distracted by the needs of new furballs. Which is my own fault for letting my heart and my J fight with each other...

But then, isn't life really the point here?


NL

Sanity in the Cards

I've been a very bad girl.

I haven't blogged in 21 days.

I haven't sent out a single Christmas card.

I haven't cleaned the apartment until every speck of dust is gone.

I'm very afraid that Santa won't visit me this year because, oh my, I've been so very bad.

I'm hoping, though, that the cards that we've received, despite me sending not a single card in two years (I've completely fallen off the wagon I tell you), are an indication that there is still enough love in my life that those reindeer will find their way here and fill my stockings with chocolate!

[Mental note: buy chocolate...just in case.]

I *am* going to send cards. I have to go buy some first. I am thinking that I will send cards on Christmas Eve. Maybe come up with something symbolic and all. I'm only going to send them to a few folks - those that sent them and a few others as well - folks I don't keep up with on Facebook. I hope the rest of my friends understand. I hope.

I should have been more prepared. I wanted to be more prepared. I used to be more prepared. But in the past few years I seem to be me easily distracted. Or maybe it's because so much of life is now lived in increments.

I'm actually looking forward to curling up on the couch, pen and hand, and writing small and hopefully thoughtful messages to these people in my life. We are all living our lives in increments and I am in awe of the women (and a few men) who, despite this, have managed to get off thoughtful cards that catch me up on their worlds.

I want to be more like them. But for now I'll just have to settle for at least being glad my Christmas shopping is done...and wrapped.

There is always 2009.

NL

A Difficult Woman

"You are a very difficult woman, Missus Anna"

My ex-husband, who loves movie quotes, used to say this to me all the time when we were married. While the line is from "King & I", the sentiment, I'm certain, hailed from the very core of the ex's soul at various moments in our marriage. As if somehow I was purposefully making his life difficult and he was a martyr for putting up with me.

I wasn't trying to be difficult. After a while the role got tiresome...and required action.

There is a man at work who I am certain is about to think that I am a very difficult woman. He is my boss's boss and therefore, my boss. Earlier this week he called me, along with two of my colleagues, into his office and announced a reorganization that included removing my boss from her position.

She hadn't been told yet.

As I sat there, in disbelief, I said very little. Within in 24 hours, however, I completely accepted the truth.

This man is an idiot.

Oh, the signs had been there all along. I just refused to see them. I kept telling myself that I wasn't seeing the poor management or lack of ethics possessed by this man. I kept thinking, when things didn't add up, that it was *my* math that was faulty.

I was dreaming.

The fact is that an organizational re-alignment is absolutely in order. The company I work for has two outstanding teams that do the same thing and they should be unified. The leads for both teams believe this ferverently. So, apparently, do others within their respective management chains. Except for my boss's direct boss.

When this man finally sat my boss down to tell her all of the things he'd already told her three direct reports he also said, of me, "If she plans on moving to the other sector she will need to sit down with me, you, and our boss and we will decide if we will let her."

Let her?

Excuse me?

There might have been a time when a man could own a woman, but that time is past. My loyalty to the organization I serve is strong and my team and clients are well cared for. That is a loyalty that is freely given and cannot be owned.

I can honestly say that no one I've worked for in the past 18 years has done such a thorough job of personally losing my loyalty. But, as someone said to me this week, in this case my personal loyalty to this man might have been getting in the way of doing the right thing organizationally.

Not anymore.



NL

It's Official

I'm a winner.

In a week of conversations which have had me a mix of happy, mad, hopeful, and upon occassion looking at the person across from me thinking "are you serious? You cannot POSSIBLY be serious? Are you an idiot?"

I have big work ahead of me this week. Work that has been a long time coming if only (if only, if only she says) we can remove some of the testosterone from the mix.

So this evening, after dragging home from a long day at work, I suddenly realized that it was "proof day."

Today is the first day that NaNoWriMo writers were able to upload their manuscripts for "word count validation" and, therefore, the first day that those of us crossing the crazy finish line that is novella writing on speed could actually call ourselves winners.

AND

TA DA!!!!



[This is the badge Chris told me to post. Have I ever mentioned that he's Norwegian?]

But I actually had options. Here's the other one:




What do you think?

NL

Oh My God, I've Done It!

It's official. I ended my 50,000 word writing spree for my "novella" at about 9 pm this evening - and having written my concluding chapter am sporting 51,145 words in all.

I will upload it on the 25th, which is the soonest possible time, and then I will breathe a little easier knowing that I've dotted the last I and crossed the last T.

Yesterday, knowing that I was in the 10,000 word homestretch and still had a full weekend at my disposal, I went out to the NaNoWriMo site and ordered my official T-shirt and two coffee mugs. One mug I will keep for myself and one mug I will give to Chris, who has been about as patient as a NaNoWriMo widower can possibly be and therefore deserves something of his own. It has a Norwegian Viking Helmet on the logo and that alone appeals to my Viking descendent of a man.

He has finished reading the novel and a copy has been sent off to Bink for her reading pleasure. I'm not sure I can edit it at this point, the rush to the home stretch being what it was, and I'm not sure how wide an attributed audience net I really want to cast if I decide to ask someone else to edit it for me.

But I am finished and I am finished 7 days ahead of schedule. So frankly, I'm pretty darned pleased with myself.

NL

I Feel GREAT!

This morning I woke up and I felt...well...strange.

I lay there for a moment and ran a quick body inventory.

Toes? Wriggle Wriggle. Oh, stuck in the sheets. Let me move my legs and get them unstuck. Eyup, the legs work.

Oh, I feel a cat moment coming on...stretch the back...ohhhh that feels soooo good. My back is working...why do I still feel strange?

I reach my arms up over my head and continue my stretch, spreading my fingers out one by one...completely enjoying the sensation of new circulation spreading from the tips of my fingers to my shoulders and connecting with the same sensation running up my spine.

What is this strange strange feeling though? I cannot place it.

I snuggle into Chris for a moment and give him instructions. I start to ask "will you make coffee while I shower?" but I stop because I suddenly remember that he has plans to visit the lab to having a fasting blood draw - something I think is absolutely stupid for about 12,000 reasons - all of which I listed in detail yesterday during a fight which involved every one of my personal demons and, because I am me, also involved me pulling out a few of his own and parading them in front of him.

But it is not yesterday. It is a NEW day. And I am feeling strange but can't place it. So instead I say "We will take my daughter to school, than you will drop me off at work, get your errands done, and then you will go to Starbucks and you will bring me a Venti Mocha Latte Breve" which is my favorite coffee drink in the entire world and is essentially the long name for one big fat calorie in a cup. I can feel his mouth curl up against my neck as he grins and asks me to write it down.


Feeling strange still, I swing my legs over the edge and in a few quick strides I'm in the hallway, knocking on my daughter's door, waking her up. "Sweetie" I call "It's time to get up."

"Okay mom, I'm up" her sleepy child's voice sings back to me.

"I love you"

I head back to the bedroom, finish the last bit of bedmaking, and head into the bathroom to shower. Under the steamy hot spray I am still feeling very strange.

Very strange indeed.

And then it hits me. I identify it. Standing there in wonder I realize that for the first time in weeks I am not feeling queasy vaguely green with nausea. Not in the least little bit. In fact, other than still being tired because I really am not the world's best sleeper, I feel pretty darn good.

I do my hair, put my makeup on and now I'm almost giddy with joy. Giddy I would be, in fact, if I weren't STILL tired and if I had coffee in my hands. I am filled with wonderous amazement because physically I feel pretty darn good.

Just before Chris drops me off I say to him "I am not nauseaus, not in the least little bit and you know what I haven't taken in two days?"

"Prilosec" he answers, not missing even a beat.

"Right!" and then I hop out of the car and dash up the steps into the building and up to my office.

And here I sit, working on project financials and waiting for him to bring me my coffee while I revel in the fact that I feel GREAT. I've decided to completely ignore the doctor's orders and listen to my body, which while on the double doses of prilosec craved tomatoes, salads with vinegars, and soda (which I rarely drink.)

What do those things have in common?

They are all acidic and they are all that I've wanted for a week now.

The doctors essentially ordered an approach that shut down all acid production in my stomach. Prior to that they'd been minimizing it with once daily prilosec. I don't have a gallbladder thanks to the gallbladder soccer game my daughter played the entire time I was pregnant with her and as a result I don't produce all the digestive juices we were built to produce.

In my heart I knew what they were telling me didn't make sense. I knew it but instead I listened to them anyway. I trusted them more than I trusted myself.

Until the weekend when I finally said "there has to be a reason I'm craving this stuff" and I went back to my once a day prilosec. And then last night, instead of taking my daily dose I said "no" and this morning...I feel strange.

Because I feel GREAT!

I am on my second bottle of water, happily rehydrating my body...which I've had trouble with over the past few weeks because of the nausea...and I'm enjoying the orange I've flavored it with. Two bottles of water before 9:30 in the morning..amazing. Oh, and my coffee has arrived!


It's going to be a fine day indeed....


NL

Oh Happiness! Holidays Coming!

I love Thanksgiving. I love Christmas. In fact, I pretty much love the entire stretch between the 29th of October and the 2nd of January.

I used to be a purist. Before Halloween (but not before Labor Day) you are supposed to have ghosts, graveyards in front yards, and the turmoil of figuring out what you are going to dress up as. Me, I don't do ugly. On purpose at least. I think Halloween is about celebrating a part of you that you don't usually let the rest of the world see. Or just have a little fun. So I've been a belly-dancer, a mime (big mistake, I did that for a party once), a medieval princess, a pirate, an earthquake survivor (my one foray into the ugly)and a cat to name a few. When I became a mom I expanded to family themes which included a pumpkin patch and a Host of Angels.

After Halloween you are allowed to start decorating for Thanksgiving. Everything becomes golds and oranges and browns with Indian corn and pictures of turkeys. I don't actually like turkey but I love ham so every year I make it for Thanksgiving dinner with the extended family. Nitrate free so it tastes good. It is now known as the "ham that Dad F" likes. One year we hit on the fact that I make a "sloppy spinach" - canned spinach with an ungodly amount of butter in it - that the kids like too. So every year I wait for my cooking orders and then I figure out the logistics. And every year I pretty much know I'm buying a ham and canned spinach and then working what little cooking magic I have in my fingers.

This year my brother and sister-in-law are hosting. They happen to own my parents old house, a big rambling brick split level that the father of an ex-boyfriend of mine used to refer to as a "the mansion." So it will fit us all very nicely and my sister-in-law, whom I often refer to as a sister of my heart, is a magnificent hostess. Oh, and I bet there will be WINE!!!

But the day after Thanksgiving, THAT is the day I wait for starting sometime in March or April. THAT is the day the decorations come out and get put up. THAT is the day I begin my Christmas shopping, often with my one sister online at the same time and our fingers sing-songing back and forth between the websites we are surfing and the chat session we have open between us.

I will stop at absolutely nothing to make my home look and smell like Christmas. I will have Christmas cards bought and ready to be addressed - even though I'm likely never to finish getting them sent.

I know that one of the gifts my family (extended) has given me is that we never celebrate Christmas all together on the 25th of December. Instead we pick a different day and we end up have TWO Christmases. My step-children, when they discovered this, thought they'd died and gone to heaven. So already they are asking "When is the F Christmas this year?" and I will have an answer for them on Thanksgiving day. I will also know which sibling I will be buying for this year because, oh glory how lucky am I, the family is just too BIG to buy for everyone.

Do you know how wonderful it is to be part of a family that is so big? It is amazing!!! It is a gift!!! Because not only are we a big family, we are only a little bit dysfunctional all things considered. But no one is in jail and no one is dead and that means everything else is just peanut butter.

So I am itching to start my Christmas shopping now. But I will wait. Oh, and here is where I need to give a shoutout to my sisters:

ISO and LilSis: I need Christmas shopping ideas for my niece and nephews. You know where to find me. Oh, and LilSis...I need a shipping address. :)

And finally, we got our very first snowflakes today. YAY!!!!

I'm dreaming of a White Christmas.

NL

Work and NaNoWriMo

I brought work home with me this weekend.

It was two little presentations and usually I like the creative process of presentations. But, apparently, not on weekends.

I'd sit down to work on my novelette and the Presentation Nag would sit on my shoulder whispering in my ear. So I'd pull up the presentations and work on them. Fiddle fiddle fiddle.

Oh, but the Presentation Nag's cousin the NaNoWriMo Nag would then hop up on the other shoulder and remind me that I was very naughty because I wasn't feeling well on Friday and so I didn't write and then I didn't get around to it yesterday because I had mom stuff to do.

So today I plopped on the couch and worked on the presentations. Then I sent one over to Chris because frankly, he needed to make up the hours and I didn't because I have plenty of sick leave to accommodate my recent sickliness on account of the fact that I hardly ever get sickly and use my sick leave.

So he worked on it a bit while I blathered on in my novelette. Then he sent it back to me and I worked more than I'd hoped to have to on finishing it.

Finally, I finished it good enough and went back to "If You Get Stuck, Write Porn" which is the title of my book which, as it turns out, Bink has read the first half of and apparently likes enough to print and have her mother read. Although she says there is not enough porn in it. I'm sure she'll appreciate tonight's chapter, which has to do with incontinence and kegels.

So as of this post I am at 30,057 words - which is about 3,000 words ahead of where I have to be and about 5,000 words behind where I want to be. And I am annoyed at the job that actually PAYS me because, get this, I'm not as far ahead as I want to be on this crazy novel thing I've decided to do for no money whatsoever.

Sigh.

I'll be up early tomorrow, writing. Oh, and I've stopped a week early the twice daily dosage of Prilosec the doc put me on to heal my bleeding stomach because I've just spent the last week walking around with what feels like a big stone in my stomach which I am convinced is undigested food and, of course, I watch entirely too much House and so I am sure it is probably creating the human equivalent of a huge hairball.

The great big "carrying a rock around in my stomach" feeling has gone away but not, apparently, my food aversions - and this is why I nearly ran screaming from the couch when Chris came into the living room with his tuna fish (which, according to my ex-husband is redundant) but of course I couldn't because I was being weighed down by my writing responsibilities and those two nags on my shoulders.

I enjoyed taking a quick break to answer some interview questions sent to me by my sister. So Sis, if you're reading this, thank you thank you thank you for the excuse to take a break. That was the best part of the evening. Except, of course, for writing the following in my novelette.

"This is why, when you’ve managed to hold a volume of urine that, if you were plumbed for it, would allow you to write War and Peace in the snow, you have no dignity left as you run mad for the hills to your bathroom yelling “Get the hell out of my way. I need to pee like a racehorse!”

By the way, if you’ve ever seen a racehorse pee it’s enough to put any man to shame in half a dozen ways. But horses cannot give foot massages so men are safe."

Oh, and Dad, if you are reading this...sorry for the image. But you deserve it for all the times you've talked about "parent sex."

NL

20,000 Words and Truckin'

And thus concludes the first day of the second week of NaNoWriMo.

This week started off beautifully. I was a little late to the starting gate, not getting my first word written until well into Saturday evening. Sunday wasn't much better but I still managed to start my work week with a about a 1,000 extra words in the bank.

Monday I set the alarm, got up and then wandered around on Facebook and Weight Watchers before knuckling under and producing a single written word. Whoops!

Tuesday, now much wiser, I got up and wandered to the couch where I whipped out a cool 2,000 words without even breaking a sweat. I'd hit on a formuala - I could talk about my travels!

Wednesday I put the laptop down with only 800 words written but still feeling okay about things. It had been an early morning with me needing to get my daughter off to school and so writing time was cut short for good reason. No sweat, I still had two more days and the WEEKEND! Goal, 25,000 words by COB Sunday night.

Two in the morning on Thursday morning I was hanging my head over the toilet vomiting up, wait for it, blood.

Shit.

This went on for 6 hours with me forcing everything out of my stomach every 15-20 minutes like clockwork. When it finally ended I was an exhausted wreck who wanted nothing more than to never ever see food again and to sleep for the next eight weeks.

Chris called the doctor. The doctor called me and ordered me to the emergency room.

Double shit.

Despite their attempts to admit me, I resisted with my newly intravenously provided willpower which had done much to rehyrdate me. I made promises and we went home.

Obviously there was no writing on Thursday.

Still exhausted on Friday my word count of 8,900 remained exactly where I'd left it on Wednesday. Things were not looking good.

Feeling better over the weekend, we now tackled several things that needed doing, to include getting the SMELL out of the apartment (you vomit for six hours straight and see if it doesn't leave a stink.)

But last night I opened up the laptop and began work in earnest again. Despite being pulled slightly off track today by a 3 hour phone call from a friend I hadn't spoken to in 25 years (we had a LOT to catch up on) I was still whipping the words out.

So here I am, Sunday night, at 20,000 words written...leaving me a solid 4,700 word buffer. Just in case I talked my way out of the hospital just a bit too soon!

And here is a shout-out to all the NaNoWriMo folks fighting their way through their own personal battles just for the ability to say "I Won!"

NL

I Have a New President

While I did not vote for Barack Obama, the results of yesterday's presidential election still please me greatly. I'm not sure whether it was hearing Charlie Gibson's voice choke as he announced the win on behalf of ABC or if, more likely, it was seeing the various members of the black community respond with sheer unadulterated joy.

I have long treasured the roles several African American's have played in my life. From my 4th grade teacher Mrs. Johnson, who was the most grace-filled, dignified, and loving teacher I'd ever (and have ever) had to my friend Deborah Johnson, who is still this curious mix of petite energy and serenity who handles the English language with a tongue that curls delightfully around every word and a voice that purrs down one's spine, these are two women who represent the profound blessings my African American friends have brought to my world and they are joined by countless others.

I wanted a better first African American President for them and in that category I put men like Michael Steele and Colin Powell. But I also understand and take extraordinary pride in an American democracy that allows us to move a groundswell of voices and changing ideas. This is *my* America and I love it with every fiber of my being.

I wish I could say that I viewed all of last night's events with the same warmth and peace as I view the election of President-Elect Barack Obama. But I don't.

While John McCain's concession speech, which included the statement "He was my opponent, now he is my President" showed the commitment to the ideals of this country that made me support him, and while Barack Obama's acceptance speech demonstrated that he is a man of quiet and respectful dignity who did not delight in his opponent's defeat, the same cannot be said of many of the other Democrats who won major elections last night.

In North Carolina Elizabeth Dole, a woman I have respected for decades, gave a concession speech to Kay Hagan that demonstrated the strength, grace, and love I expect from a woman who has the deepest commitment to our democratic principles. She offered her unwavering support and prayers to the state's incoming senator. A Southern woman does not offer prayers mockingly. Prayer is the most powerful gift they have to give and it is never given out of anything but love.

When Kay Hagan offered her acceptance speech she began with a rooster's crow of joy over defeating Elizabeth Dole which did not end with a "we won" but went on for nearly a minute of nothing more than "ha, ha, we took it from her." I was horrified. Who was this woman who believed in such unsporting behavior?

Democrat after democrat failed to recognize the worthiness of his or her opponent. When Mark Warner, a man I had previously respected, joined in the same sort of "hail hail the gang's all here" without a single gracious word to or about his opponent, I could do no more than sit there in disbelief.

Many of President-Elect Obama's supporters have hailed him as being a man of grace and good manners, a man who will close the gap of partisan-ship that has resulted in a country which includes many women in my demographic (one of the few demographics not to have given the majority to Obama) that went to the polls yesterday feeling as if they were between a rock and a hard place. I'd argued that he was a man likely to be under the control of the Senate and the House, given the nature of the democrats superdelegate process. Now I am praying to God that Obama's supporters are right. Because at this point in time I think we have an even bigger problem brewing, one that makes the term "ugly American" even more appropriate.

Today I will be watching to see if "both sides of the aisle" treat last night's historic election with the grace and dignity it deserves - and it deserves much. And I am encouraging President-Elect Barack Obama, along with Senator's Hillary Clinton and John McCain, to take the lead as examples of American graciousness, dignity, hard work, and collaboration.

Oh, and let's keep an eye on some of these women we're electing - because when it comes time for 52% of the population to actually be represented by a President, we don't want it to be someone like Kay Hagan.

Just a Word of Warning

November 1st is the start of National Novel Writers Month, affectionately known as NaNoWriMo, or NaNo for short.

For reasons I believe have largely to do with being fairly confined to the couch/bedroom over the past week I've been antsy and a little bored. All I really need to get into mischief.

So when someone threw out information on a Weight Watchers Message Board about this annual event I was surely not in my right mind.

I signed up.

50,000 words in 30 days.

They advise at http://www.nanowrimo.org/ (a site that currently has a high crashibility factor so if it doesn't work for you keep trying) that authors just write. That they no go back and edit their work.

You can start with an outline, which I might have had I decided more than a hour before the event was to begin to actually do this, but you must write all of your prose fresh.

50,000 words in 30 days averages out to about 1700 words a day. No sweat. I thought. At my first 1400 yesterday I was thinking "what the heck have I gotten myself into?" and then it dawned on me...just write.

I hit my 10 percent mark this morning. It has become blatently obvious to me, however, that if I'm going to pay attention to this then a few things are going to suffer.

Noticing Life may be one of them.

So consider yourself warned.

Oh, and by the way, my "novel" starts out:

“It’s not about sex. It’s about feeling desired. As if, at that very moment in time, you and only you are his entire focus.”

I shared that on the NaNo Thread for the General Daily Thread board on Weightwatchers.com to which the response was "when you get stuck, write porn."

NL

Two Damn Weeks

Two weeks. Two funerals. Two thefts. Oh, and two headcolds which have taken up residence in my chest leaving me without a single good night's sleep in...yes...two weeks.

I lent my laptop to a colleague at work who had it in her car when she stopped for an errand in Alexandria. When she got back hers was one of many cars that had been broken in to (and one was stolen) and of course, my laptop was gone.

This was not her fault. The fact is, someone came along and decided to take something that did not belong to them. That is theft. The victim is not to blame and I believe this continued belief that victims "ask for it" should be stopped immediately. Another colleague blames the economy. I blame parents and bleeding heart liberals who have raised an entire society of "something for nothing" people.

So, two weeks of wrangling with the insurance company.

Enter first headcold. Shivering, shaking, 24 hours of head misery before it wandered down to my chest. Oh...sigh...I know what this means. Bronchitis.

Then my Aunt Elli died. While not technically my "aunt" she was the closest thing to a sister my mother ever had, and like every good southern family (with a Yankee mom) we grew up calling her "Aunt Elli." I took my parts to the funeral - thankful for a lovely day and owning a convertible. Screw bronchitis. And thank god for abuterol inhalers and halls cough drops.

So this past Monday Chris gets an email from his sister. Her mother-in-law has died and the funeral is Wednesday. Being a good Southerner I am well aware of the following critical decision making facts:

1. Angie is reportedly closer to her mother-in-law than to her own mother. That's family.

2. Chris is the only "blood" family Angie has on the East Coast that Angie has not birthed out.

3. It is less than a 7 hour drive from Arlington, VA to Middletown, CT.

4. It's autumn. It's the East Coast and it's Autumn. It's Connecticut, in autumn, arguably the most lovely place on earth right now.

5. Family is there for each other.

So Monday evening we decide to take Tuesday-Thursday and make a trip to Connecticut.

We're working through our checklist - which includes finding the GPS. Chris says "it's in the mini-van" and so we wander over to grab it. I am watching Chris stick his hand through the window, and trying to make sense of what I am seeing as he says "look at this!" And still I am like "what?" Finally I realize that the sparkly stuff all around is shattered window glass and there is no GPS.

I just can't deal. If ever there is a doubt that I am Southern, it is erased by my next action...which is to say exactly this "I can't deal with this right now. Just leave it and I'll deal with it when we get back."

Moments later we are sorting through our mail as we enter our apartment and I spot a letter from the Arlington County Police Department - which essentially reads "we're sorry for your loss. We understand being a victim is difficult. However, we aren't going to do anything about it."

I'm "blink, blink, blink" for a moment as I try to figure out how they already have a police report for a crime we only just discovered. Then I realize that the apartment complex must have known about this, reported it (and surely ours was not the only vehicle involved), and then never bothered to tell us.

So, for one brief moment, I had this thought..."you have to stay home and fix this."

But I am still Southern and those roots are there and there strong. Some things really can wait. (post-post note: it is not "they are" strong...which Chris doesn't understand.)

So we packed up and drove to Connecticut. Top down for much of the drive. Chris went to the funeral while I went shopping. Even after 2.5 years together, 2 of them together on the same coast in the same apartment, he is still uncomfortable about being a man with a girlfriend. Although, to be fair usually his ex and his kids refer to me as "the Devil's Spawn" so girlfriend is marked improvement.

His sister, whom I love more every time I spend time with her, called him an idiot when she'd learned he wanted me to not go to the funeral, and ordered him to correct the situation. So in the midst of a lovely shopping outing my phone rang and the message came in to please come to the reception. I found my way back, meandered in, and was promptly introduced to about 2 dozen people before Angie (have I mentioned that I really love this woman) sat down with me and we had a nice few minutes of girltalk.

We spent much of the rest of the day with Angie, her amazingly talented husband, handsome and equally talented son, and her delightful daughter who just happens to be nearly exactly 1 month older than my own daughter.

While we were there the insurance claim on my laptop was settled so on our way back home we stopped at Best Buy and bought a new laptop for me. And one for Chris.

Then we drove through Connecticut, New York, and New Jersey with the top down.

Now I am very sick. Fever, hacking awful cough, and kleenex piled up all around sick. But it was worth it because in all of this I realized the following things.

1. I have my priorities straight and Connecticut in the autumn SHOULD be enjoyed with the top down, no matter what it costs you later.

2. Chris has truly wonderful siblings who don't seem to want anything more from me than to know who I am and that I love him. Which I do.

3. Theft is committed by people who believe they should not have to work for what they have - victims are those who believe they should be free to expect better behavior out of society. Victims aren't stupid, they are Americans actually trying to BE Americans. Thieves, on the other hand, should be shot immediately.

Oh, and one huge "Thank you" to Chris for running out at 11:30 PM last night to get me cough medicine and then for holding me through the night as we waited for that stupid fever to break.



NL

A Hail to the Women Who Went Before Me

Last night I joined the American Red Cross as a volunteer.

Again.

Okay, technically I never left. I just changed chapters to reflect the fact that I don't live where I used to live.

I decided to start over, just like a brand spankin' new volunteer who has never before taken a CPR course, or taught a Disaster Education class, or led a committee. Or, for that matter, been up close an personal with chapter politics. (Hoping to avoid that this time around - what a waste of time.)

I love the Red Cross. These thousands of volunteers do amazing things in horrible circumstances every day somewhere in the world. No matter what, no matter who...if there is a need, the Red Cross is there. I love being a part of that.

So there I was, back in orientation being reminded of the honor of serving with these fine men and women when the woman leading the class made the following comment:

"75 years ago to the day that Hillary Clinton addressed the Democratic Convention in 2008, the suffragettes turned over this building to the American Red Cross. They no longer needed it...they'd won the fight."

They most certainly did win the fight. Not the war. But definitely the fight.

And so as I sat there, reflecting on those women who came before me I thought also of my daughter I made this solemn promise:

I will do everything in my power to make sure that their fight was not, and will never be, in vain.

NL

Open Season on Women

"More and more people are having babies simply for the love of german engineering." Brooke Shields in the new Volkswagen Routan ad campaign

This commercial just wigs me out. It took a bit for me to figure out why and frankly, it was the new Chevy Traverse commercial that closed the brain loop for me. You know the one...a woman driving a Traverse notices shoes falling from the sky, stops her car, and begins to scoop them up by the armful and shove them in the cargo hold of her car. Leaving me to wonder, 'how do you match the pairs?'

Maybe I'm just being sensitive here but just WHO is the target audience supposed to be for these two ads? Does Volkswagen really think that having Brooke Shields lecture in the mockumentary about the relationship between family planning and mini-vans is going to make women feel anything but stereotyped?

Does Chevy really think that the way you sell a car to a woman is to throw shoes at it?

Cadillac did this right with the fabulous Kate Walsh delivering the line "The question is, when you turn it on does it return the favor?" in a way that made it clear that it's not just a car for the boys club.

Just because a woman has children doesn't mean she wants to be classified as a "soccer" or "hockey" mom. Giving birth does NOT make a woman take leave of her senses or her sense of style. Nor does it create in her a wanton lustfullness for german engineering.

I love shoes, this is true. I also love gadgets. You wanna sell me on a car? Show me the amazing navigation system that connects me to all of my data on the go any time I need it. Treat me as smarter than a woman who, noticing shoes falling out of the sky, doesn't bother to ask "what is going on?" and instead hops out and scoops them up. That ad is just stupid on too many levels to mention.

It certainly seems to me that the advertising industry has picked up on the public sentiment that a woman who is strong, confident, and capable is nothing more than a woman who will have a child or stop for shoes all for a car. It makes me wonder where this came from and to be honest, I'm afraid much of it is flourishing in the political arena...on both sides.

William Shatner's character Denny Crane said, on Boston Legal this week, that sexism is alive and well in American and women are the ones perpetuating it.

You think?

Because when ads like these or politics like we've seen in the past 18 months succeed, we most certainly are perptuating it. And we should be deeply ashamed.


NL

Signs of the Times

So my father, in a bold political move, did something he has never done before.

He put a yard sign up in his yard. For John McCain.

My mother is not happy about this. My sister and brother-in-law (a cop), who share a pipestem driveway with my parents and are the first of the two houses, are not happy about this.

Their problem isn't that they disagree with my dad. Their problem is that they are worried about *other* people who disagree with him and feel that vandalization is an okay way to express an opinion.

I'd say they were crazy...if it were any other election. But while I was in Texas and in Pennsylvania, I heard a number of people say they had the same concerns when they were considering putting their support for Hillary Clinton in full view. We verified, in Texas, a number actual sign thefts and did hear reports of vandalism, so it's not a unique concern. In fact, there are *laws* around this sort of thing precisely. But it's hard to catch sneaks in the night.

A friend from work relayed the following story to me a few weeks back. She was driving to work with her "Hillary" sticker still proudly displayed. She and Hillary Clinton are actually personal friends so it seems reasonable that although Hillary is no longer in the race my friend is not so inclined to remove the sticker. An individual driving a car behind her honked his horn, sped up, and began to guesture rudely while pointing back and forth between her sticker and her as a driver. So she, this fairly well mannered southern lady, returned the favor.

Then he turned into the parking garage at work. Her work. My work.

We work for a consulting firm where supposedly we hire people who should know better.

I'm not a bumper sticker kind of girl. When we were campaigning for Hillary we did put signage on our 30 foot RV. And we did worry about having it up when we went to campgrounds. But campgrounds are kind of special and generally full of people, we've learned, who don't go around messing with your RV just because they disagree with you. We did generate a lot of conversation when we'd roll in - and most of it, I'm pleased to say, quite civil.

But I drive a Beetle convertible and my not being a bumper sticker kind of girl isn't why there is no support sticker for McCain on it. Because my brother-in-law, the cop, isn't worried about vandalism for no good reason.

I don't care who you support, but I do know this - you should be able to have a yard sign or bumper sticker and not have to worry about stupid people and what they might do to you.

Just a thought.

NL

A Religious Comment about Politics...

From a friend:

" While walking down the street one day a Senator is tragically hit by a truck and dies. His soul arrives in heaven and is met by St. Peter at the entrance.

"Welcome to heaven," says St. Peter. "Before you settle in, it seems there is a problem. We seldom see a high official around these parts, you see, so we're not sure what to do with you."

"No problem, just let me in," says the Senator.

"Well, I'd like to, but I have orders from higher up. What we'll do is have you spend one day in hell and one in heaven. Then you can choose where to spend eternity."

"Really, I've made up my mind. I want to be in heaven," says the Senator.

"I'm sorry, but we have our rules." And with that, St. Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to hell. The doors open and he finds himself in the middle of a green golf course. In the distance is a clubhouse and standing in front of it are all his friends and other politicians who had worked with him.

Everyone is very happy and in evening dress. They run to greet him, shake his hand, and reminisce about the good times they had while getting rich at the expense of the people. They play a friendly game of golf and then dine on lobster, caviar and champagne.

Also present is the devil, who really is a very friendly guy who has a good time dancing and telling jokes. They are having such a good time that before he realizes it, it is time to go.

Everyone gives him a hearty farewell and waves while the elevator rises ...

The elevator goes up, up, up and the door reopens on heaven where St. Peter is waiting for him.

"Now it's time to visit heaven."

So, 24 hours pass with the Senator joining a group of contented souls moving from cloud to cloud, playing the harp and singing. They have a good time and, before he realizes it, the 24 hours have gone by and St. Peter returns.

"Well, then, you've spent a day in hell and another in heaven. Now choose your eternity."

The senator reflects for a minute, then answers: "Well, I would never have said it before, I mean heaven has been delightful, but I think I would be better off in hell."

So St. Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to hell.

Now the doors of the elevator open and he's in the middle of a barren land covered with waste and garbage. He sees all his friends, dressed in rags, picking up the trash and putting it in black bags as more trash falls from above...

The devil comes over to him and puts his arm around his shoulder. "I don't understand," stammers the Senator. "Yesterday I was here and there was a golf course and clubhouse, and we ate lobster and caviar, drank champagne, and danced and had a great time. Now there's just a wasteland full of garbage and my friends look miserable. What happened?"

The devil looks at him, smiles and says.......

"Yesterday we were campaigning. Today you voted."

NL

You're Wrong...No, I'm Right

I've got friends on all sides of the political spectrum. One of the reasons they are my friends is because usually we are capable reasoned discussion around their opinions and that makes things interesting.

But not lately.

This really frustrates me because I love hearing what people think. I'm less interested in hearing them repeat what other people think and somehow passing that off as reasoned discussion. It's not.

I promise you, I do not now, nor have I ever, had a parrot as a pet. It is unlikely I ever will. I've never been in the least bit interested in having something that just repeats what I or someone else says. It's boring and unnecessary noise.

What is even worse is that somehow in the past 22 months or so it has become a part of "reasoned" discussion to shout at people. For a while most of that shouting came out of the Obama camp. Now it's coming from everywhere. McCain supporters have begun to shout. Even worse, they've begun to shout at other McCain supporters. What? How not okay is that?

Along with that shouting has come phrases like "how can you be so stupid to be voting for [insert candidate of choice]?" as if the person you are talking to has suddenly lost their mind because they don't agree with you.

But my personal favorite (not) has been this willingness to "comment" on opinion pieces that don't agree with your opinion and then to call it "witty."

It's not. It's tired. It's juvenile. It's disrespectful. And the only reason anyone gets away with it is that somewhere in this country, I hope, are people who recognize that reasoned discourse does not involve what is essentially a "nanny nanny boo boo" and so the conversation stops.

Two other things on my mind with this "you're wrong" attitude. First, there is a very basic fear people who have an opinion and aren't expessing it have - and that is that the lack of manners coming from other parts of this society are an awful lot like being in High School where if you weren't doing the 'in' thing you were in jeopardy of being beaten up. The second is that it's okay to 'wink' and parody the girl in this race but if you do the same thing with the black man in the race, well, that's racism.

It's true. Sarah Palin does and says some things that make her an easy target. Thank God she's okay with the fun we are poking at her at her expense. John McCain's face, drooping from the after effects of cancer treatment and just plain being old, make him fair game for comments about his health. Biden is fair game but not really leveraged because, well, he's not as old as McCain, not as female as Palin, and he's been around long enough not to be *that* interesting. But really, what if people actually did with Obama what they do with McCain or Palin?

And the lies, the outright lies wrapped around truths...on both sides. Geez, that's not debate - that's rumor mongering.

We teach our children not to behave this way...but apparently the lesson wears off.

So please, don't send me any more "opinion" pieces for either candidate. I'm bored with them. Furthermore, I am entirely too smart to vote for someone just because you tell me I should.

Oh, except for Saturday Night Live...they ARE funny - for the first time in years.

NL

Crazy Thinking?

I'm a Washington Redskins fan.

You know how we get. It doesn't matter if you even LIKE football, which I didn't, until recently when I've begun to appreciate its finer aspects...sort of like the French impressionists - who, in my opinion, lack clarity. A Redskins fan believes, even in the face of all evidence to the contrary, that this is the BEST team in the entire league and that any bad season is the result of bad weather, bad refs, and cheating opposition. Sometimes we will concede that we'd be better if we had fewer injured players. Oh, and in case you hadn't picked up on it, is said "we." That's right. Redskins fans believe they are part of the team.

It's crazy thinking...but it's who we are.

So last week when the 'Skins were facing the Evil Empire, otherwise known as the Dallas Cowboys, I watched them start the first quarter in a state that I can only describe as "clearly stoned."

So there I was, watching and thinking "I have to do SOMETHING. I have to PLAY my POSITION!" But what could I do? I was already rooting for them with ALL of my energy.

Then I got it.

I would bake a pie.


As soon as I began rolling out that pie dough (okay, unrolling the already rolled pie dough) the team, MY team, perked up. By the time the pie was in the oven Washington was playing the game. As the pie baked and filled my apartment with the smell of cherries the 'Skins played and played. Just about the time I took the pie out of the oven, fully baked, the 'Skins were taking a knee for the win.

This weekend I planned to bake a pie. But I wasn't sure. Was I crazy thinking? Really, it's just a pie. So I held tight. Through the first quarter I watched Philly run over the Redskins as if they weren't even on the field.

As they started the second quarter down so far I thought I was in hell I knew the truth...

I was going to have to bake another pie.

The question...is it only Cherry that works or can I make any kind of pie?

Out came the dough. Unrolled and patted into the pie plate. Out came the apple pie filling, poured into the pie shell. Then the butter, sugar, and flour for the crumb topping I favor. For a bit of interest I decided to add some brown sugar and cinnamon.

And just as I started all of this, the 'Skins woke up. It was if they knew I was baking a pie in their honor.

Once again they won, even though once again they were not favored for the win.

I'll leave Coach Zorn to continue working his magic with my team. Clearly he is doing good work.

But I have my job too. There will be pie at my house next weekend if you happen to be in the neighborhood.

:)

The Beauty of the Bailout

So one of the things about Washington that I don't think will ever change is that it is full of opportunists. No where in the country is this more apparent than in our Legislative process. No time in the legislative process is it more likely to happen that when all hell is breaking loose and legislation has to be passed quickly. (Quick, for the record, isn't a word that appears in the body of the congressional dictionary.)

Knowing this I decided to wander out to our newly passed H.R. 1424. This bill provides "authority for the Federal Government to purchase and insure certain types of troubled assets for the purposes of providing stability to and preventing disruption in the economy and financial system and protecting taxpayers, to amend the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 to provide incentives for energy production and conservation, to extend certain expiring provisions, to provide individual income tax relief, and for other purposes."

I like economic and financial stability although I'm still hoping it doesn't mean that what we've stabilized is bad credit and people who got rich off of it. I think energy production should be incentivized although I'd like a clearer definition of natural gas (methane gas is natural but do we really want MORE of it?)

I'm wondering how much tax relief we'll really see individually if we are now having to fund an additional 850 billion (for what we've spent on this and the war we could have bought BOTH Iraq and Mexico - solving at least two problems and increasing our tax-base.) I was heartened to see, I think, that the Palin family paid the same amount in taxes as I did in 2007...although I made a bit less. But she has more deductions and lives in a much more expensive location. Oh, and she didn't get a stimulus check either.

It's the "other purposes" I think bear a closer look. So let's see what else the "bailout" gave us.

First, it made some improvements (depending on your viewpoint) to the Paul Wellstone Mental Health and Addiction Equity Act of 2008. Since Paul Wellstone died in 2002 I was immediately assured that it wasn't specific to his mental health. Which is good because otherwise I think we could be looking for more specific mental healthcare coverage for at least 435 representatives in the House and 100 senators in the Senate. I digress, but only a bit since this is the whole point of the what was the original H.R.1424 before it was changed to make economic stabilization even possible.

In brief, this "rider" makes it clear that limits are based on duration/scope of treatment - not dollars, substance-related disorders have to be included in mental health benefits (does lemon cake addiction count?), prescribes a bunch of minimums in terms of what all health plans must cover, increases medicaid drug rebates, limits certain types of physician referrals (mostly around ones that benefit the referring physician - like a practice run by the referring physician's "Uncle Louis.") and makes Congress responsible for investigating whether or not anyone is paying attention to this little piece of legislation.

Then we get the Genetic Information Nondiscrimination Act of 2008 - Title I: Genetic Nondiscrimination in Health Insurance and Title II: Prohibiting Employment Discrimination on the Basis of Genetic Information - (Sec. 202) legislation. Basically it prohibits insurers and employers from forcing you to undergo genetic testing and punishing you in ANY WAY if you do - especially if the results of your tests might suggest you could cost them some extra bucks in the future. Furthermore, if you've undergone it already (or do at some point in the future) they don't get to punish you if the results aren't what they consider optimal. Not in granting insurance and not in determining what your rates are. I consider this piece of legislation possibly worth 850 billion dollars. I'm hoping they fund HHS, Labor, and Treasury sufficiently so that these three Departments can actually enforce their mandate. Oh, and I'm wondering if they've figured out how to test for lemon-cake addiction genetics. Do I have my mother to blame for this (because lately she's become the heir apparent for family blame - so much for personal responsibility dearest brother.) Maybe my father? I blame him for my love of travel, willingness to question what others tell me is truth, and my pot belly. Maybe my lemon-cake addiction comes from him...

The greatest irony, and the part that pleases me most, is that these two riders poke the insurance companies and their greed right in the eyeball. Why? Because insurance companies are part of the financial infrastructure and thus benefit from the economic stabilization act. Good insurance policies help Americans with healthcare and if we do it right we won't have to risk government nosiness into our very personal business. For every pro-choice activist this should come as good news.

There's a lot more that this bill does in the "other category." Things that aren't mentioned in the summary. That's research you'll have to do yourself because this thing appears to be about 451 pages long. If you want more information on the bill (and a chance to see partisanship in action - thank you Financial Services Committee) go here:

http://thomas.loc.gov/cgi-bin/bdquery/z?d110:H.R.1424:


Thank you Paul Wellstone. May you rest in peace.

...

Because it's your JOB!

Last time I checked (which was about 30 seconds ago) US Senators were paid an annual salary of $169,300.

Clearly congress is different than any other place where people get paid a salary. The rest of us, we work. And if we don't work, we get fired. No salary.

So could someone please explain to me why we taxpayers are paying these men salaries while they interview for another job?

We're in a terrible financial situation and at least one senator is "phoning in" while he stumps in Colorado and wonders why Washington can't get their job done.

Um...because it's full of people who don't actually bother DOING their job? The one they are being PAID for?

You're fired.

Brain Cancer in Children

I have a friend named Babs who is one of those special people you don't come across very often. So when she takes on a cause I sit up and take notice.

Recently she asked her AMEX Card holder friends to go to this website:

http://www.membersproject.com/project/view/NN934A

And vote for the project Brain Child.

Every year American Express holds a "contest" for charitable dollars. Brain cancer is personal to Babs. Her mother has been fighting it for several years. Another friend of mine lost her daughter at 12 to this horrible disease. When she told me about it, even though it had been 15 years since her daughter's death, her face still showed horrible anguish and I went to bed that night praying hard that I never face anything like it.

I closed my AMEX card a few years back so I'm not eligible. But one I thought that maybe folks who read this might be.

Please, Don't Rescue Me

There are moments in my life that stand out so crisply in my mind that if I could paint them, I would. I long for the camera that captures what only I can see.

I live less than half a mile from the Pentagon. It's an impressive place. Clearly built for protection and not rescue. Every day men and women in uniform walk the sidewalks past my apartment on their way into work. I want to lean out the window and say thank you.

One of those brain-picture moments is from the 9/11 search and recovery at the Pentagon. It was evening and I was down with the care and feeding efforts for the S&R folks who were working at the site. The air was chilly and strangely silent for all of the activity going on around us. More than an hour had already passed as I'd repeatedly watched man after man come down from the building, weave their way through the debris and ground operations and make their way to the tents we called "Unity City." Inside those tents we had all the things that people give to those who are doing the unimaginable.

S&R uniforms have pockets. Lots of pockets. And our tables included candy and lots of it. They'd come to these tables, load up with candy and then head back up into the building. The candy in their pockets would help cover the taste and smell that filled their mouths and nostrils as they dug through the burned and still smoldering remains of the plane & Pentagon victims of 9/11.

I hate crowds. The reason I was there was to help plan some next steps in our organization's response. But I needed to get away from the activity and the awesome emotion of it all. So I wandered off for a bit, quietly chatting with Gerald and processing all that I was seeing. As we talked I looked up at the gaping hole in the side of this amazing building and I stopped...

...this is the picture.

A smoldering, gaping black hole in the side of the Pentagon and hanging from the roof next to it an American flag. Framing this, a starless Washington DC night sky with the Washington Monument glowing in the background. A cold breeze nipped and kissed my cheeks and I could feel my hair fluttering against my neck. I was spellbound.

I stood there staring and Gerald looked down at me and seeing what must have been an ashen face, asked "are you okay?" I told him I was. Compared to so many others that day, how could I not be?

But inside I was screaming "no, I'm not okay. WE are not okay. THIS is not okay."

The people killed in the Pentagon that day died at their desks, in meetings, on the phone, doing whatever it was that they did in performance of their jobs - jobs that were essentially this, to protect the United States of America and her citizens within.

No one will argue that they did their job perfectly every day. But they did it. And they died doing it. Mundane every day jobs for most of them. Jobs they rose for early in the morning, fought traffic to get to, and I'm sure they never thought would get them killed.

I think that there are a lot of people who look at the U.S. Government as somehow responsible for rescuing them from whatever it is they need to be rescued. Me? I want the government to help us be a better nation and to protect my freedoms while they protect us from those who don't want us to be better...or free.

I want the deaths of those people to not have been in vain.

So please, don't rescue me. Instead, protect. Protect us all. Protect us from our greed. Protect us from our neediness. Protect us from our willingness to follow blindly those who promise to rescue us from ourselves. I don't need rescuing.

My Name is Debbi and I'm

a Libertarian.

It took me a long time to admit that. I thought only friends who did drugs or were anarchists had a problem. Me? I could quit anytime.

Sure, there was this little issue of being pro-choice while being pro-life. My Republican friends began to suspect I might have a problem when I refused to go to rallies with them. It's true, I hid behind excuses. I couldn't go because I had, well, laundry...that's it...and grocery shopping for my family of six. Then more questions began to arise when it was discovered that I favor peace, I don't think the President is always right, and patriotism isn't something you mandate. I began to realize the gig was nearly up when I forgot to hold my tongue and I whispered "um, I don't actually trust John Ashcroft OR George Tenet."

My Democrat friends were even more confused. Why *wouldn't* I want laws that govern wages, speed limits, education, energy, oil, greater regulation, more social programs, universal healthcare, amnesty for all, taxes that support investment in the arts (really, a painting that is just pink?), tax payer funded abortions, welfare, or politic correctness - although I have a soft spot in my heart for the perennially un-PC (Sarah Palin is a very appealing woman) Bill Clinton.

The problem is, being a Libertarian in a two-party system is an awful lot like being a purple man in a sea of black and white. No one knows quite what to do about you.

Okay, I know I know...the Libertarians haven't helped matters at all. First, they found www.reason.com, a wonderful site full of, usually, thoughtful discussion...and then they hand us Bob Barr and Ron Paul. There was a moment during the Republican primary debates when Ron Paul raised his shaking hand and waving it back and forth said "I was an OB/GYN for 30 years and I..." and I could hear no more. My legs clamped shut and every ounce of my body began to react in "oh no No NO he did NOT go THERE!" Ewe.

But Colorado's got my attention right now and this is why: they've got an interesting ballot going. This year they are defining when "personhood" begins (at the moment of fertilization...or not), whether or not "race" needs to continue to be a deciding factor in hiring and education, and they are considered by some political analysts to be THE swing state of swing states.

Why would a State with 9 electoral votes be so significant? Because in 2004 they proposed an amendment to the state constitution that would allocate electoral votes based on popular vote. The Democrats, who originally supported it, withdrew support when it appeared to them that John Kerry would take the state. This one decision (courts aside) cost the Democrats the election in 2004. George Bush won all 9 electoral votes. He would have won 5 of the 9 (and Kerry the other 4) and not have won the Presidency.

It's time to put measures like this back on the ballot. It does three things:

a) more accurately reflects true popular vote
b) paves the way for 3rd party candidates to actually compete for a place in the race and,
c) begins to lessen the stranglehold the two parties have on the constitution - a document who's intent is now completely violated by the winner take all strategy of the electoral college.

A clear example of the correction that takes place is California. With 55 electoral votes the populations of LA and San Francisco typically drive the state to blue. But not by much. There are 6.8 million registered Democrats and 5.9 million registered Republicans. There are 688,000 others across the American Independent (277,000), Green (91,000), Reform (92,000), Liberatarian (81,000), Peace & Freedom (67,000), and Natural Law (70,000)parties. And then there are your "independents" - people like me who favor a party but reserve the right to vote their judgement and not the party line.

So as you can see, even the most "democratic" of states isn't...really. Those 55 electoral are cast to represent an entire state - and in fact represent only about half.

Correct the problems in the electoral process and it just might be okay to be the purple man.

Or the Ballsy Broad.

Brokering Hope

Not all that long ago I got an up close look at the inside of one of the financial institutions involved in the "bailout." It was the first time I'd encountered "mortgage backed securities" and I thought for sure that somehow I must be missing something because no matter how many ways I looked at what these were about I just could not see how they were good.

I'm not a financial wizard. I go to work every day and I make money which I then spend, over the course of every month, on life. All the things we do every day while about the business of living. Food, clothes, rent, gas, and stuff.

But with this financial crisis looking us dead on I was thinking about this former client of mine and one of the names I most encountered (and which will not be spoken here) and so I decided to see what she did with some of her most recent multi-million dollar bonus.

What she did with $10k of it last spring was donate to one of the PAC's supporting Barack Obama's campaign. A man with an extraordinarily enticing message of hope.

Which got me thinking...

It seems to me that "hope" is exactly what got us into this mess in the first place. Every homebuyer who "hoped" so much that they were willing to believe that there is no "catch" to low interest/no interest no money down mortgages. Every homebuyer who looked at houses that were gaining 30-50 percent in value a year and who honestly believed, because real estate agents, friends, and financial advisors were telling them this, that they would make money on these risky investments.

We saw similar hope during the DOT COM boom in the late '90's. Every person with a dream and an idea chased investors, fancy business plans in hand, hoping for "venture capital" to bankroll the next great "thing."

To be fair, some of these companies actually had great ideas and they worked. Google, the company that hosts this blog (for free mind you), is one of the more famous. But how many of us remember pets.com?

A high life, easy money, fast cars, big houses, and "networking" events on money that returned little, if anything, on investments.

Hope. Something we've been recovering from on the DOT Bust. That impact was a momentary thing. This ugly thing happening with our financial sector isn't that bad. No. It's much, much worse.

We did this to ourselves. We let greedy people, get rich schemes, bad judgement and hope lure us into doing something that as American's we should be deeply ashamed of.

And now every American taxpayer is looking at paying in taxes just about what this woman from my former client DONATED to a presidential campaign just six months ago.

It makes me angry that I am just one of thousands of Americans who are about to pay a price because of foolish hope and greed. The subprime mortgage market was not a good idea. You don't have to be an economist to know that.

What do I want? I want the assets of every decision maker in these financial firms seized and auctioned off. I want the US Government to buy these securities at a penny on the dollar and then hold them. I want every one of these companies to close their doors and for us to turn to the higher performing banks (credit unions, etc) to help with the movement of our money. I want the people who were duped into believing the "great american home dream" to quit whining about losing their homes - stupid is not fixed by a sob story.

And for everyone who dreams of getting rich quick I invite you to join me in my personal approach - play the lottery. I've never had to take out a line of credit for it and the return on investment is just about the same.

Familiar Energy

My friend Tim came over this evening and we lost ourselves in the familiarity of old Broadway tunes. He sat playing at my piano, an instrument that deserves better than I am usually capable of, as I stretched vocally into notes that scared the cats out of the room and sent us all into horrified (on my part) giggles. I am, clearly, rusty and no longer the clear throated 3 octave soprano I once was.

But despite the hour and most of a bottle of marvelous New York Concord wine (a wine you smell coming and makes your mouth water in the process) I am a mix of energized exhaustion. Oh the energy of friends and familiar songs!

This morning it was a lovely DC crisp autumn day. The kind of day you wait for all year long. I drive an Aquarius Blue (car talk for baby blue) VW Beetle Convertible and this morning we took it in to work, top down. We passed our friend John and then our friend Cynthia and each time exchanged waves and smiles - happy at the familiarity of friendship. Energized by the sun and the smiles.

I was reminded of a place I worked for 17 years, of a game I used to play with another friend who shares my general gregariousness (because despite being an introvert, I am gregarious.) We'd walk down the hallway and see which of us was greeted first most often. He was the editor of the internal newsletter (circulation: 15,000) and well known. I just get to know people. He loved playing this game with me because I could actually win. I loved playing the game because I love the energy found in the warmth of a familiar smile. Well, and I could beat him.

I've always thought it interesting that another use for the word "Familiar" is to describe a witch's companion, most commonly imagined as a black cat. In truth, a familiar's sole purpose is to bring extra energy to the intentions of the witch. Sort of like candle light brings energy to the intentions of someone praying in front of a church altar. Any high energy animal will do. But as the owner of two cats I understand why they might be the animal of choice.

A familiar's energy must be freely given. Sort of like the energy we give to each other when we smile and greet another warmly.

And it makes me wonder. How much more might we accomplish when we are sustained on the familiar energy of others and their good wishes for us?

Should we all practice familiarity?

Painting Life

This morning I groggily wandered into the kitchen just in time to hear my daughter's father tell her how beautiful she looked. Her face turned up toward him as I struggled to reconcile his words with her shockingly pale face. I could feel my eyes blinking as I tried to understand what was going on and in confusion I asked my daughter if she was going to put her makeup on.

She laughed at me and said "mom, you are totally out of it" and then explained that it was picture day. Since her grandparents would be getting copies of her picture she opted not to wear any makeup.

I could feel my brain ache as I fought to understand what was happening in the kitchen. Something felt incredibly wrong about what I was seeing and hearing but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

In all fairness, I'm usually a morning person. But this morning I woke up with a pounding headache and the accompanying spinning room. This made both my daughter and her father laugh while I swore that I was not either "out of it."

But here's the deal. Last spring my daughter decided that she wanted to 'express herself' by adopting the "Emo" look. In what seemed like an overnight deal, she went from a wardrobe made up of primarily "camo" prints to black t-shirts, black eye-liner, and what has been described as "perfected complexion." She's been very proud (and committed) to this expression of herself. Since I remember wearing roach clips in my hair in the 80's (and please, anyone who lived through the fashion of the 80's has NO business criticizing today's styles), glitter eye-shadow and flourescent pink lipstick, I have good reason to believe she'll outgrow this with her self esteem intact.

And that was what was wrong with this morning. My beautiful daughter, who is perfect just as she is and just as she wants to be seen, changed because she was afraid of being judged. She believes that if her father, who loves her, disapproves of how she views herself then surely others will too.

We all paint ourselves. Sometimes it's with makeup, clothes, jewelry. Sometimes it is with where we are, what we say, or how we decorate the spaces we inhabit. We carefully choose how we show ourselves, what we let other people see, what we want other people to see. We make these choices and in these choices we are our authentic selves.

Sometimes it's in the blog templates we pick (I'm still deciding on this one.)

This mothering business isn't for the faint-hearted. And when I finish writing this I'm going to slip into my daughter's room and remind her that I love her, just exactly how she chooses to be.

A Racial Race...Seriously?

I read a "news" article recently that said that 1/3 of white women who identify themselves at Democrats did not want to vote for a black man for President.

What?

First, I'm not planning on voting for Barack Obama this year and the color of his skin has nothing to do with it. If Colin Powell were running, he'd have my vote. If Michael Steele were running, he'd have my vote. Both of these men have demonstrated to me, in different ways and under different circumstances, the qualities that I personally look for in a US President.

That said, I understand that there are some people for whom race does matter. I met some of them when I was in Texas last spring helping the campaign efforts for a candidate who is no longer among the contenders for the 2009-2013 Administration. I heard it. I shrugged it off as a "to each his or her own." In my book things balance out and besides, at least twice as many people told me that they were being told, in their churches, by their families, by their communities, to vote unified...to vote black.

I understand that the color of a candidate's skin might still figure into a Presidential vote. I also understand that the anatomical plumbing of a candidate (precisely, the presence or absence of a penis) might play into the decision making process of some. So does eye-color, the kind of clothes they wear, the timber of their voice. Some people *do* actually vote for a candidate based on nothing more than the alphabetical order of the person on the ballet box. This is America. We can't help the fact that yes, some people do just vote stupid.

What I want to know is this: Are the same pollsters who are trying to make this race about...well...race, asking how many African Americans are being encouraged to vote "black."

Why is it suddenly so important to dissect the white American woman? The last time anyone was this interested in what we thought as a group - well - they were trying to sell tampons, laundry detergent, and about 3,671 other kinds of cleaning products in general. We're used to being a "target audience" - we've been that ever since the advertisers figured out who does most of the household shopping.

But until recently, we haven't been that interesting as a political voice. And neither campaign is singing the songs about issues I care about. So let me make it easy:

• The Presidency should be an office sought for no other reason that the firm belief that it is the greatest sacrifice any person can make - to serve this country. And the person who seeks it should be able to prove to me that they care more about America than themselves. They should have already served.

• The United States is not an opportunity for intellectual gymnastics. Instead, it is one great big huge dysfunctional family - we fight amongst ourselves but nobody else better try and hurt one of us. If you don't come from a big dysfunctional family you won't get this - but this is what it boils down to - sometimes someone farts at the table, or leaves the toothpaste cap off, or "borrows" your sweater without asking, or about 325000 other wildly annoying things. You have to deal with it, you can't whine and it will never change. But fight one of us and you fight ALL of us.

• Both the President and the Vice President should be willing to stand up and say "knock that shit off" when people try stuff on them that we generally protect our citizens from. Things like violation of privacy, stereotypes, and unequal treatment. Things like accusations based on skin color or the presence of a vagina.

• The President and Vice President should be able to read and fully understand what they are reading. That includes things like the Fair Wage Act - an act which, had it passed, would have really screwed women in this country. It includes the economy, and while bailouts are a temporary fix they don't actually HELP the country in the long run despite what Suze Orman says. (Someone recently pointed out that had the bailout money been distributed to each citizen over the age of 18 instead of these piggy financial institutions run by, yes I'm going to say it, STUPID people, we'd have an economy!)

• The President and Vice President should have such a spirit of service to this country that every filthy rich entity, be they CEO's (or former CEO's), celebrities, and "special interest" groups should be absent from the picture - because there is absolutely nothing in it for them.

• The President and Vice President should be smart enough to know that the Presidency is a terrible position to hold but that short of dying in the line of duty there is no greater service. Oh wait...did I say that already? I guess I'm just a big fan of George Washington and Thomas Jefferson - two old white guys who'd been scarred in battle and neither of whom was perfect. Neither of whom could get elected today.

I don't vote because I'm a white woman. I vote because I'm an American and it isn't my right...it's my responsibility. It's a responsibility because people through the generations have sacrificed beyond measure so that my voice is heard. It is my responsibility to be smart about my decisions. Not to let heresay or brute force think for me.

So if you are one of the people making this race about race...or gender...do us all a favor and stay home. You ARE too stupid to vote.

...The More Things Stay the Same

Of all the pithy things that stay with you, the one that comes to mind the most for me is this little internet adage...

"On the Internet, no one knows you're a dog."

Which is why, although I've been wandering around on the 'net since the way early 90's when you actually put your phone ON the modem to connect, I've always been pretty cautious about being "all the way" out there as my whole self. BTW, Chris says that if I remember putting the phone on the modem it must have been the 80's. For the record, I'm not admitting in writing that I'm that old...

The problem is, when no one knows who you are, no one can find you. For privacy junkies, which I can be, it's also a good thing.

Every January, without fail, at the very top of my list of resolutions is this one: Keep in touch with all of the people you care about. Every March, without fail, any attempt I've made to make good on this promise to myself has fallen woefully by the wayside. I've misplaced so many friends I could fill a stadium.

A few years ago I discovered linked-in. A friend invited me, I joined, and forgot about it until about 9 months ago. Then recently some of my friends whom I'd lost touch with found it, found me, and we reconnected. Then I found some more friends and connected again with them. But this networking site is very much "professional" and I want to reach out to folks in a more personal way.

I could, I suppose, try writing a letter, or even an email - which I did for a few of them - but this all seems terribly time consuming when all I really want to do is say, in a few words, "hey...how are you doing? What's going on in your life? Do you miss me as much as I miss you?" Plus, I haven't even sent Christmas cards out in 2 years (yes, I have some friends who thought I was dead, having missed the card business...)

So I wandered out to Facebook. I took the plunge. I used my *real* name. I used my "real" birthday (but not the year because I am, afterall, a Southern Woman.) I let Facebook make some recommendations and I agreed - at least with myself - to be a little less private. A little more transparent. I'm swallowing hard and shaking a bit. The song "If I Were Brave" by Jana Stanfield (I like the version by the Four Bitchin' Babes) echoes in my head and I am diving in.

In doing so, I discovered a few friends that I'd loved dearly and lost touch with, some of them all the way back from my high school years (2.5 decades ago.) And I thought, well...why not? I added them as "Friends" and they wrote right back!

And here I am, reconnecting with these people who were important to me during an important time in my life. I can see already that time has dealt us all different hands and we have shaped our views in response. But I've also noticed that there is this piece of me that is joyful...yes, that is the right word...joyful to hear from these people again. So even if we didn't take the same paths or make the same choices, maybe we are still enough the same to remember why we were friends in the first place.

The More Things Change...

I had this thought.

Actually, I had many thoughts.

I had these thoughts 3 years ago when I started this blog.

I was thinking that I needed to make a change. I didn't think, until 6 months later, that the change I'd been avoiding for 12 years was actually going to happen. It did.

I was thinking that I've never been very good at commitment and I'd try hard to be committed to something...in this case, blogging. I wasn't.

I was thinking that a lot goes on around me and it might be nice to write about it. I didn't.

I was thinking that I might be busy, but not too busy for the catharsis of the written word. I was.

But tonight my thought, after catching up on my sister's blog, was:

I like to write. I like to think outloud. And my very *first* blog entry EVER made the DC Blog watch.

So I'm going to try again.

Because there has been a lot of change in my life in the past 3 years. But some things stay the same.