According to Fran

Oakley Goes to Day Care

2011-09-14T12:52:00.000-07:00

7 a.m. 7 a.m. Behavioral assessment at 7 a.m.

My sinuses beat steadily to that chant this morning. I had to have him at the day care center at 7 a.m.

2:30. 3:18. 4:45. Up at 5:30. Oakley banged his treat ball with his nose as I slammed down my coffee. Out of here with an ample time cushion in case of bad traffic by the two high schools passed en route.

Pulled up in front of the building. The owner met us, took the paperwork, his snack as he wagged his tail and laid at my feet. "What do I do now?" I asked when I handed over his leash.

"Go home," she said with a smile. Calmly, he lead her through the door to the trainer's office.

Home I went. A good, productive, if entirely too quiet day. Some rest for this cold, yes. The high traffic areas have been tidied. Energy work session went well.

4 p.m. 4 p.m...he'll be home to fill the void at 4 p.m.

Monday Night Thoughts

2011-09-12T18:31:00.000-07:00

   Giving The Spouse his space to watch some shows that I don't care for.
   Met my goal of applying for three writing jobs. Be interesting to see what shakes out. As I think about rewriting my resume, let's see...tractor pulls, dream interpretation, food....no porn. Yet.
   Tired. Oakley has a nasty ear infection. Located deep in the canal, it's making him crabby. Even the gentle ointment makes him whip his head around. I understand my mother better.
   Tired. Long walk this morning. Long day today.
   Oakley has school tomorrow and his day care debut on Wednesday.
   See you tomorrow, Gentle Readers.

Tuesday, 9/6

2011-09-06T12:42:00.000-07:00

   Yes. It's Tuesday. The first Tuesday of the month, so the small city I live near tests its sirens. Even though it's expected, I still jump until I remember that the day is just another Tuesday.
   Today's tests may set off an additional wave of paranoia. We're just days out from the tenth anniversary of 9/11. The media and government have relentlessly pounded on it since 9/12/01.
   We are in two unwinnable wars.
   We have caused countless deaths.
   Can we make it stop, please?

An Open Letter to the Forest Preserve People

2011-09-04T14:25:00.000-07:00

Dear Forest Preserve People,

I really don't mind paying taxes to preserve nature. It created joy to see that my dollars had gone to upgrade the old scout camp into a lovely new campground with such great trails along the river.

However, yesterday, as I walked my dog at one of the older preserves--actually, the two conjoined by a network of trails--I noticed a sad lack of trail markers. Especially sad since the trails had to be rerouted due to erosion along the creek. I had walked our now deceased dog there numerous times several years ago to his joy, and wanted our new dog to have the same. What was planned as a two mile mom-and-pup hike turned into a five mile mommy--doggie death march in the 85-degree-plus heat coupled with the outrageous humidity.

As I said, I don't mind my taxes going to preserve nature. However, would it kill you to put up a few more directional signs? And maybe a few more trash cans at the ex-scout camp so that I can pitch dog poop in a timely manner?

Thank you,

Fran

Getting My Hair Back

2011-08-31T09:02:00.000-07:00

   Half blond, half medium-dark brown, liberal sprinkling of grey. Too long roots. They stared back at me as I stared at them in the glare of the salon's overhead lights.
   The stylist began painting the color around my hairline. The blond had been something that I wanted to do some years ago, just to see what I'd look like. Not bad. Gratifying to have heads turn, but a pain in terms of upkeep. Every six weeks or look really trashy.
   When all was said and done, I looked like myself again. Not like some bombshell wanna-be. But back to the color that I knew from school pictures, perhaps a few stubborn greys sprinkled throughout.
   Process for 30 minutes, shampoo, cut, blow dry. Good look in the mirror. Youthful, as in full of life and vitality, but not desperately clinging to the fantasy of what I wanted to look like 20 or so years ago. Maybe punch up the lipstick color a bit. Perhaps tone down the red tones with a light dusting of powder. But not bad. Not bad at all.

So Much for That

2011-08-15T08:38:00.000-07:00

So I'll try again with the wheatfree experiment. Last Monday brought the moist, rich carrot cake in a pool of caramel sauce. Thursday, fried shrimp at the Chinese buffet.
I didn't really notice a difference on the wheatless days. Perhaps I shall try again.

And Now for Something Completely Different

2011-08-02T08:11:00.000-07:00

As Oakley walked me at the forest preserve this morning, one of the workers called to me. "Hey! How's your day going?"

"Pretty good so far. And you?"

"Fantastic! By the way, you look fantastic, too!"

I thanked him. Always nice to start the day with a compliment, and even better that the weight started moving.

What's different? I'm experimenting with backing off on wheat and grains. Most of what's been lost is water. I'm still having a little bread or rice every few days, but mostly getting carbs from sweet or red potatoes, and some really yummy (but pricy) teff tortillas. I'm experimenting with gluten free recipes that involve almond and flax (made some pretty good muffins the other day).

So we continue. I snuck in a little baguette with dinner on Sunday. But no other wheaty delights since then. No adverse reactions occurred.

However the research I've done indicates that there's a tie between gluten issues and thyroid problems. Some people have dramatic symptoms, such as severe cramping and diarrhea. Others (likely me included) retain water and just feel "off."

Is this the key to helping me feel "on?" Could be. My sister crashed and burned with the wheat thing a few years ago. I will give it another week and see what happens.

The Summer of Our Discontent

2011-07-28T07:58:00.000-07:00

   It's another day of predicted 90-degree highs and several rounds of rain. I have no desire to visit the tropics, so why are they visiting me? There's nothing better than standing in the yard with Oakley and feeling the mist blessing my face at dawn. There's nothing worse than the damp weight of the air crushing me in the late afternoon.
   The house has picked up so much solar gain that cooling it is a losing battle. Maybe the cloudy hours of this morning will act as a compress, like a cold cloth on a feverish forehead.
   I don't want to wish time away. Just this weather.

The Debt Crisis

2011-07-26T11:40:00.000-07:00

   Ever have one of those days when you want to grab someone by the lapels and scream, "GROW THE BLEEP UP!" in his or her face? Looks like today is the day to do that.
   Especially if the individual in question is a Congressional representative. Today is an exceptionally good day to do so via phone, or email, or to paint a picket sign or three. We are a week away from the US defaulting on loans, then taking out a good part of the global economy. And what are our representatives doing? Acting like a bunch of kindergarteners on crack.
   This is not what they are elected to do. They are elected to represent the people, not special interest groups, not corporations, but people. SIG's and corporations don't need Social Security or Medicare, or food stamps. Yet these are the programs getting nailed first.
   Unfortunately, we have a Tea Party Republican who made a ton of cash for himself in the bad mortgage fiasco a couple of years ago. An email will be sent. I don't think Rep. Hultgren cares, but he will hear from me.

Knowing More Than an Expert

2011-07-21T14:12:00.000-07:00

   An-noy-ing!
   Ok, you caught me. I'm watching Dr. Oz out of the corner of my eye as I tap away this afternoon. He just had on a representative from a company that purveys eating plans and support groups. They announced a major change: participants may now have unlimited fruit. Any kind of fruit. And not have to include it in the daily allotment of units.
   The problem: from what I've read, this program does not really differentiate between good and bad calories, or good or bad fats. Fruit is good to a point, but this could easily lead to participants substituting it for candy or ice cream.
   The Spouse followed the program, and he lost weight, and kept all but about 20 pounds off (he lost 80). However, we had many lively discussions concerning the health benefits of salad versus the prepackaged frozen meals that consist mostly of white rice or white pasta coupled with a few slivers of vegetables and a shard or two of chicken.
   As Michael Pollen said, "Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants."

You Make It Challenging For Me To Stay on My Heart Chakra If You...

2011-07-20T08:23:00.000-07:00

...use a Flexileash on a dog weighing more than 10 pounds.
...use a Flexileash on a dog weighing less than 10 pound and the dog manages to get loose and runs barking and growling at Oakley (57 lbs and still growing).
.....you make it really hard if you do the above and laugh and say, "Oh, he won't hurt your dog!"while your dog runs while barking and growling with flattened ears at my dog. Oakley likely won't do anything except inform your dog that his average poop is bigger than him, but I can't vouch for other canines.
....you automatically forward everything that gets forwarded to you to me without looking at it. I have no interest in divisive politics, 9/11 photos, or a lot of the schlocky inspirational bits floating around out there. I also don't like being part of a massive CC list.
...don't use your turn signals.
...call dibsies on my parking space by pulling right up behind me not leaving me enough room to back out.
...post gawdawful heartwrenching videos on Facebook of animals being abused or euthanized. Or worse yet, articles about techniques to do the latter. People, that's why I volunteer for a rescue group and insisted on adopting Oakley and Orion from shelters.
...bring really small children into restaurants that aren't prepared to handle them.
... think Michelle Bachmann would be a good president. Migraines are the least of the issues about why I don't think she should be in office.
Thank you. I feel better now.

If At First You Don't Succeed....

2011-07-17T08:54:00.000-07:00

   On one hand, the traditional end to this bit of wisdom is "try, try, again." On the other, there's W.C. Field's thought, "Don't be a dammed fool about it. Give up."
   I fell off the nutrition wagon with a bump a month ago. Today, however, I climb back on and tie myself to its side. The specters of my parent's health issues haunt me with a vengance. My mother's passage at 51 from a heart attack (I turn 49 this fall); my father surrendering to his heart disease and going on disability at 50. Arthritis racked his last years, which lead to him consuming massive amounts of acetomenephine on top of a prescription analgesic that contained the same. He did his blood sugar levels no favors by washing them down with Scotch. We still don't know how he lived to 69.
   While there are practical concerns, there is also the question of vanity. As I left a ladies' room earlier this week, I had a good look at my back side. While it's necessary to accept that menopause does lead to changes in one's body such as hip spread, it is still disconcerting to look in the mirror and feel as if an F-16 could use your butt as a landing strip.
   So with all due respect to Mr. Fields, we try again. I'm shooting for 50 grams of carbs and all the water I can hold today. Oh, and my nightly bite of 72% chocolate.
   On we go again.

The Last Comments on Casey Anthony

2011-07-12T08:28:00.000-07:00

   Well, Casey Anthony walked. Even though a few of the jurors indicated that they feel that she did it--you know, murdered her daughter--they just didn't have the last piece of evidence needed to feel right about a capitol murder conviction. A ton of circumstantial evidence could have lead to a manslaughter conviction, but no on the death penalty.
   Bottom line: yes, she more than likely did it, or played a part in Caylee's demise. However, the state failed to meet the burden of proof required to meet the criteria for a death penalty case. Plain and simple.
   I hope some good comes out of it--better child protection laws, ways to make it easier to surrender a child for adoption without condemnation, an open dialog about what parenting can take out of a person. I'd rather see the energy go there instead of setting up yet another hateful page on Facebook.

Waiting for the Next One

2011-06-30T09:23:00.000-07:00

   At this rate, Terre Haute is likely to get a wing dedicated to Illinois pols.
   On Monday, eleven women and one man found former governor Rod Blagojevich guilty on 17 of 20 charges. Let's see, 10 wire fraud, several conspiracies, two counts they were hung on, and one not guilty. Arrangements for sentencing are in progress. He's likely going to be a guest of the Feds for 8-10 years.
   Meanwhile, ex-governor George Ryan, currently at Terre Haute, was released for a few hours to say goodbye to his wife of over 50 years, Lura Lynn. She had lived with cancer and fibrocystic lung disease, hanging on with teeth and fingernails to see the day when he left prison for good. Her body gave up long before her spirit did. She passed on Monday night. He'll be out in two years, I think.
   Illinois is looking at the dubious distinction of having two former governors behind bars at the same time. I can't think of another state to say that.

Decluttering

2011-06-25T09:12:00.000-07:00

   Been on a bit of a decluttering rampage the last few days. Found several bottles of mouthwash that came with from our old house, the one we moved from 13 years ago Labor Day Weekend. Found several coffee canisters that we don't need.
   Decluttered on Facebook, too. Dropped out of several groups I'd been added to without my permission and for very obscure reasons. I don't unfriend unless there's a good reason to do so, such as someone who made personal attacks on several real life friends, or a spammer.
   Interesting theory: that on an energetic level, your house represents you, and clutter represents weight that you want to lose. So will this take a couple of pounds off my thighs? Worth a shot....

Hey, Vancouver, Was That Really Necessary?

2011-06-16T08:44:00.000-07:00

   Watched a little of the Stanley Cup final last night. Congrats to both sides on a well-played game. Unfortunately, someone had to lose, and in this case, it was Vancouver. Boston won.
   The disappointing part: rioting. In Vancouver of all places. I woke to reports of smashed windows and overturned cars. Why? Because the Canucks lost. Not because of some lamebrained social policy or a tax increase, but losing a hockey game.
   It garnered attention. I flipped around at the top of the hour. The damage was serious enough that the story bumped Rep. Weiner's porn star friend a couple of notches down the pecking order. And this was over a hockey game.
   Yes, it's a bitter disappointment. But can you imagine what would happen if they'd put that energy towards protesting something more life changing?

Saffire, Karma, and Elizabeth Edwards

2011-06-15T09:10:00.000-07:00

   Hee, hee, hee. Are you acquainted with Saffire? A/K/A The Uppity Blueswomen? You should be. They told a lot of truth for a lot of women in their 25 year run. My favorite song? (readers with delicate sensibilities, plug your ears) "Bitch With a Bad Attitude." ("I'm turning you into the IRS; I'm telling the cops where you keep your stash.") It gets played once a year on my NPR station's Mutha's Day blues special (the day before Mothers' Day).
   Hee, hee, hee. You know about Karma, right? As TV sage Earl Hickey put it, "Do bad things, and bad things happen. Do good things, and good things happen."
   Hee, hee, hee. And you know about Elizabeth Edwards, wife of ex-senator John Edwards? The one who passed in December? The one whose final days were an example of grace under fire between her life-altering illness and finding out that the former Senator Edwards had started a relationship with a staffer while she was undergoing treatment for cancer? And had a baby with the staffer? And lied through his teeth about it? And faces a trial for having misused campaign funds to hide his mistress and child?
   Well, one of Elizabeth's loose ends that she was able to tie up before her departure was this video telling everything that she knew. Her friends have handed it over to prosecutors.
   Hee, hee, hee.

Congratulations, You're a Boy!

2011-06-07T08:52:00.000-07:00

   Maude Almighty, here we go again.
   Go to your favorite search engine and enter Rep. Anthony Weiner (D-NY) lewd pics.
   With all due respect, Rep. Weiner, you don't post pics like that in an online album. What made you think that you wouldn't get hacked as you claimed? You don't send pics like that. You just don't.
   MS in psych aside, I will never understand what goes through the heads of people who feel compelled to take pics of themselves and send them out. It's the high tech version of flashing, nothing more or less. Get kicks from it? As long as both parties are of age and concent, that's your problem. But sending pictures of your boy parts or girl parts to an unsuspecting recipient is just plain creepy.
   Unemployment, floods, and the fire about to take out the border regions between New Mexico and Arizona. Ok. Rep Weiner, put it away now so that we can focus on these, please.

Tuesday Thoughts

2011-05-31T09:53:00.000-07:00

Trying not to get sucked into the hype over the Casey Anthony trial. You know, the one in Florida with the mother who didn't call 911 for a month when her daughter disappeared? With the defense lawyer who's trying to blame Casey's father and saying that the kid drowned in the swimming pool? Puh-leeze.....

Nondescript Memorial Day here. I want to remember my mother at the piano, my father in the kitchen, and my three grandparents drinking egg nog. I don't visit graves. They're all at a considerable distance. We went out to lunch, The Spouse played with his tractor, and Oakley and I played fetch. I'd rather have people remember me by staying in the moment and enjoying life. I also have directed a friend who's a retired lawyer to have John Prine's "Please Don't Bury Me" played at the after party thrown by the people who knew me best.

So. What do I want for lunch today? I'm craving peanut butter. I have some lovely Kashi microwavable meals. Oakley will have kibble and a little yogurt. He's doubled in weight since he came home in February.

Life goes on.

Random Rainy Sunday Thoughts

2011-05-29T11:52:00.000-07:00

   If a cat always lands on her feet, and toast always lands buttered side down, what happens if you butter a cat?
   Just had a green sky t-storm pass through. Why we weren't on the t-storm warning I'll never know.
   Oakley's going to be nine months old tomorrow. Brittany and Beagle. And Lab and Great Pyr. Let's call him an Aquataine hound and have done with it. The cute, it makes me squee, likely adult weight of 70 pounds or not.
   Feeling the time warp. I go to Meijer's, a Michigan-based chain where we did most of our shopping when I was a kid. Timelessness. Am I in my teens, am I in college, am I somewhere in the jungle of mid-life? It all blends together as I look at t-shirts.
   Trying to convince The Spouse that Oakley wants a cat for his birthday. Pet ownership would teach him responsibility. The Spouse gives me The Look.
   Let's do this: Palin and Bachmann in '12. We'd have a few years of chaos, but it would get better from there. Our foremothers fought for them? Lady have mercy on us.

Life Happens

2011-05-27T12:57:00.000-07:00

So I'm poking in my notifications on Facebook this morning. Mrs. R. had laser surgery on her eye yesterday. She's doing well, joking about the beams coming out of her butt. LOL. Get to a comment from someone saying that they're praying for her. In her response, she told him that was kind of him, but that her daughter in law, S. needs the prayers.

Uh, oh.

Mrs. R's son J and I have known each other since we were in kindergarten. She and my mom were the PTA at our elementary school. We'd recently reconnected through the mixed blessing of Facebook. That was the good news. I clicked over to his page. The bad news: his wife S. had been diagnosed with cancer about 18 months ago. She'd been doing a great job of living with it until the last week. Suddenly, she started sleeping 20 hours a day. Hospice has been called in. Maybe, maybe a month, but no one is holding their breath.

I just lost it. For S's impending departure and not getting to know her better; for J and his agony and the weight of single parenthood getting ready to land on his shoulders; for their three daughters at the ages where a girl needs her mom to explain the intricacies of womanhood.

S is the same age as my own mother was when she went on to the next world, somewhere around the 50 mark. A very different set of circumstances: my mom's heart could no longer bear the weight of her sorrows and just broke. J and family have known that S's crossing was a real possibility for a long time. No easier, though, when it actually happens.

Longterm, all will be well. Mrs. R and a cadre of other friends' moms stepped up and did what they could to fill the bleeding gap. The girls have her for their grandma, and two standup aunts in J's sisters. J has a wide support net, one big enough to keep him from falling as he walks the valley of his grief for his soul mate. It will take time, but there comes the day when you realize that you're still here and still breathing and that life has been going on and the time to go along with it has arrived.

So for now we wait. We lift prayers for the best, we light candles for a peaceful leavetaking. Cruelly ironic that this happens the weekend when so much blossoms into the full swing of life.

But all seasons change, and some more unexpectedly than others. It it what it is, life happening as it does on its own terms.

Nine Days and Counting, or Not

2011-05-12T12:04:00.000-07:00

   Oakley and I found a new-to-us trail at a local forest preserve. It's the right length for an eight month old puppy to ~~drag~~ walk his guardian and be relatively calm afterwards. In between pulling sticks and dandelions from his jaws rested moments of unity with the natural world, moments of eye contact with does, the scent of pines warmed by the sun, the soft haze in the sky.
   Home again. Checked Facebook, and saw several links to stories about the new date of the end of the world, May 21, 2011. At least that's how the people at a small fundamentalist radio network see it.
   I hate to tell them this, but Jesus was supposed to return when I was in college. Living some 20 miles from a military base with nukes makes it a bit easier to believe, and when one of your roommates goes to a church into prophesies, well, at the least it makes you wonder.
   Wonder I did, indeed. We had Reagan baiting the then USSR, throwing Cold War rhetoric over the fence like so many Molitov cocktails. At the time, I first thought, "screw school; if I die, I'm dying by the lake." I still got through with a B average. And got mixed up with a manipulative, needy, emotionally abusive piece of work because I was so scared of dying without a man in my life. And went for a time to a church in the denomination of my childhood with a pastor who was kinky for end-of-time theology.
   The Spouse is of a very different religious background than me. The pastor acted as if I had become engaged to a child molester or worse when I asked if he'd be willing to perform the service. I knew that my leave taking from conventional religion had arrived.
   It's taken a lot of time to undo the damage and not have a cold thread of dread crawl through me when natural disasters or wars break out. One of my Facebook comrades observed that the people who believe in this prophecy must be pretty miserable if they want to just walk away from everything, or get swept up by a greater force.
   How much damage is being done by this escape hatch fantasy? Not just in terms of giving up on life on this side, but to relationships?
   I know that there are two people out there whom I hurt deeply by getting involved with the above-mentioned piece of work, and "I'm sorry" doesn't begin to cover it.
   Time and nature are the great healers, for me, anyway. After spring will come summer, et al. And then the ball will keep rolling along.

Random Wednesday Thoughts

2011-05-04T12:08:00.000-07:00

   Wednesday. Hump Day. No real insight. Just random midweek thoughts.
   The White House declines release of pics from Osama bin Ladin's demise Sunday night. Too gruesome. Very well, then. What do you call images of Sadam Hussain getting hanged, or the abuse of Abu Ghrab POW's?
   Raise our property taxes if you must, but have it go towards the teachers or roads or to protect open land. People in Europe get along just fine without cheerleading and football, and maybe we should do the same. The Spouse is upstairs having a chat with someone at the superintendent's office.
   Nice, but chilly out there. At least we have the sun. Try to keep the noise to a minimum so that it won't get scared and run off.
   Have you tried Magnum bars? One of my friends who lives in the UK was nice enough to tell me about them. It won't change your life, but it will get you out of yourself for a few minutes.

Has Anything Really Changed?

2011-05-02T12:21:00.000-07:00

   Osama bin Laden was taken out by US forces last night. They went into a compound, engaged in a firefight, and that was it. It's almost anticlimactic after 9.5 years of chasing him.
   The first we heard of it, or that I heard, came as Oakley and I went to the park for our morning constitutional. The drive time team played the clip of President Obama announcing the death over and over again between songs. I switched to NPR, unsure if I'd heard correctly. Yes, a team of Navy SEALS entered the compound and took bin Laden out after a fire fight. The story broke rather late last night when we'd called it a day and headed off to dream peacefully.
   So now what? Are we going to bring everyone home? Has the world suddenly become one of apple pie and picket fences? I doubt it.
   Bin Laden was not a nice person and needed to be held accountable for his actions, true. I hope that this brings some closure for people impacted by 9/11. But is it ever appropriate to celebrate the death of a person, no matter how evil his actions, by acting as if a football team scored a touchdown?

Taking My Place in the Mother Line

2011-04-25T08:44:00.000-07:00

   Yesterday was Easter. Not a holiday that I really do much with anymore, but the memory pot gets a stir.
   My maternal grandmother and whoever else attended dinner would spend the afternoon looking at photos in her albums. While the menfolk dozed, we'd sit around the freshly cleared table and listen. Not just to stories of long departed relatives, but the tales of pets.
   This kitty had wandered into Grandma's back yard and decided to stay. My mother in her two-inch heels had marched into a muddy field to rescue Brownie, a small mixed breed who'd been left tied to a rocking chair during a severe thunderstorm. Rag Mop hung out with Grandpa so much that her ex-owners decided to give her to him when they moved. On goes the list.
   My niece has a poodle from a shelter.
   We have Oakley. Do you see a pattern here?

Clawing My Way Back Onto the Wagon

2011-04-04T11:52:00.000-07:00

   Today's bucket of cold water over the head come courtesy of several family members. We have two elders looking at moves to assisted care facilities, and one in our generation fighting off a massive infection. They're going to try taking him off the ventilator this afternoon. This group includes two diabetics and one who has lost a lot of muscle tone since she refuses to exercise. That's all she needs to do. No chronic issues, no problems, just a refusal to get out of her bed. She's paid a price for it with several infections and complications.
   I can relate. Some experience oneness with the Divine. I experience too much oneness with the sofa. With Oakley, however, stillness is not an option. We walked really well this morning. I made two additional small changes, one a big bowl of oatmeal with berries and yogurt for breakfast, and being mindful of my water intake.
   Last summer's descent into the shadowed valley of grief after Orion's crossing took a toll on me. Comfort eating, paralysis from grief, stiffness from having slept on the floor or sofa with him the last weeks, all took their toll and pasted back 40 of the 60 pounds I'd lost some seven years ago.
   So we begin again. I do a lot better on low glycemic plans than on low cal/low fat plans, so I'm looking at those websites.
   This time, it might be easier. I've relinquished the illusions that for once in my life, I'd be the Hot Chick. I don't need to be that any more. I know that I have a lot more to give the world. And I know that I have to stick around to do it.

Can't You Just Say "Oil" and Let Us Get Back to "DWTS" Already?

2011-03-28T12:54:00.000-07:00

   Tonight, President Obama will address the nation on the role in Libya. The reason given so far: that Qadaffi, Gadafi, however you spell his name is attacking citizens who protest his regime.
   Uh-huh. So where are the planes for Darfur and other countries where human rights are vague abstractions? Why aren't we sanctioning China?
   It comes down to oil, Gentle Readers. Libya has oil. Most countries in Africa don't.
   Now, may we please get back to watching Kirstie and Maks?

Meltdown Week

2011-03-20T12:56:00.000-07:00

   March 13-20, 2011....meltdowns on so many levels in so many ways.
   Oakley's been keeping me busy. Part of it: on top of Brittany and Great Pyr, he has some Lab in there for spits and giggles. That sweet little armload of fur and kisses turned into an adolescent the last couple of weeks and began growing, now almost out of Orion's old crate. Finally, with the help of a homeopathic remedy for ADHD (note: this is what worked for me--please consult your vet or trainer) and advice from an experienced Lab owner, he was able to get himself refocused and limit himself to normal pubescent pooch mischief, not juvenile delinquent antics. He's been leaning against me quietly, and listening better, and not mistaking us for chew toys so much. It's been a tough road for him--taken from his biological mother too early prevented him from learning social skills, including mouthing inhibition. We're making progress.
   We have another military involvement in the guise of human rights going on. Libya has oil. We're supporting, allegedly, the civilians who want Gadaffi out. Uh-huh. Right.
   We have the fallout in Japan. The power plant damage in the earthquake came scary close to blowing up this week. For now, disaster has been averted. The fallout in human terms barely began to come into focus. There's a danger zone of some 20 miles around the plant. Food and fuel are in scarce supply. The people bear their burdens with grace and dignity while honoring the common good. In a couple of countries I could name, that level of damage would have triggered looting and riots.
   It's mid-Sunday afternoon on the first day of spring under a full moon for the records. Hopefully, the residue of this last week of winter gets washed away by the bright light of this new season.

Oakley: The Adventure Begins

2011-03-01T11:52:00.000-08:00

   "My mama always said, 'Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're going to get.'" Unless you've been hiding under a rock for the last 20 years, you've heard that oft-quoted line from "Forrest Gump."
   It's not too different when you adopt a shelter dog. The director of the shelter where Oakley came from originally thought that he was a beagle mix, then their vet noticed the long legs, adding in the Brittany. All I knew was that he curled up on my lap and fell asleep on the way home.
   Then there were some other characteristics that didn't add up on the Britt or Beagle side of the ledger. For starters, the double dewclaws on the back paws fell into neither breed descriptions. Then there was the ridiculously long tail with the little crook at the end. And then there was the black nose, and the black-rimmed eyes, and the bark. Think of the shock value of Gary Coleman opening his mouth and James Earl Jones' voice coming out.
   Answers came at last week's pre-neuter once over. The vet looked at the tail, and the dew claws, and said, "Great Pyrenees have those."
   No, no Beagle. Great Pyrenees. Calm, independent, relatively quiet, big-assed dogs. As in some males go up to 160 pounds.
   "He could go up to, oh 70 pounds," the vet guessed. A bit more than the 35-40 pound range I'd guessed at originally.
   Only time will tell. Oakley is six months old, and some feel that he may be at half his adult size.
I knew less than spit about Brittanys when Orion adopted us. I hopped on line and read everything I could about Great Pyrs. Another French breed originating in the border regions with Spain, bred to guard livestock and property. Pretty healthy. Run on the aloof side, generally, with strangers, but loving to their humans. And calm.
   I don't know how this is all going to shake out, but I'll bet the results, like the box of chocolate, will be sweet.

Collecting My Thoughts

2011-02-21T08:12:00.000-08:00

   Monday. Breathe. Breathe.
   We find a bit of breathing room from the upheaval of the last few weeks. Tunisia fell into its new groove; Egypt kicked Mubarek out. How bad does it have to be that people would prefer to have the Army in charge than a president? The wave continues, not pretty, but tsunamis never are. It's washing over other too-long oppressed nations in the region, and there's no telling where it will stop.
   It's even reached into Wisconsin. The standoff between the state service provider's union and the Tea Party governor continues. The unions will not be broken. Compromise is one thing; union busting quite another. Let's not do that, please.
   Closer to home, our own upheaval ensued. Oakley, a charming adolescent Brittany Beagle blend, joined us on February 12. He's a work in progress, but very worth it, as is change as a whole.

Things That Don't Happen Here

2011-02-03T11:59:00.000-08:00

   Just when I thought it couldn't happen, it did.
   My sister left a tension edged voice mail. "Call me back when you get a chance. Something happened at Northern Michigan today that I think you need to know about."
   A little cold thread crept through my heart. No. Not in Marquette. Not at my campus, all green and tranquil and edged by Lake Superior. My knees went weak. Tried to screen out images of peace torn by a spray of bullets.
   I called.
   Well, the thing that I had feared the most, that NMU would be added to the list of shootings with Virginia Tech and Northern Illinois University, hadn't come to fruition. An early morning web surfer has stumbled across a threat to take out the NMU president and more students than at Virginia Tech. He alerted the Marquette Police Department. The threat was credible enough to start the ball of canceling classes and locking down campus as well as the hospital and public schools.
   A blessed, blessed false alarm. Routines returned to their usual rhythms by late afternoon, and classes were back on today.
   I spent a lot of yesterday bouncing between Upper Peninsula news sites and Facebook. I was able to get back in touch via the latter with a friend from undergrad, a gift in the grey hands of the whole deal.
   While no words can shape the profound gratitude in my heart, I'm finding myself struggling with a sense of violation as one might feel after one's house gets broken into. The home of my last shards of innocence has been violated. I don't know what the new normal will be. But it will never be quite the same again.

This, Too, is History

2011-01-31T12:41:00.000-08:00

   I spent a lot of the weekend monitoring the events in Egypt. The demonstrations show no sign of stopping. Some parts of Cairo are returning as best they can to everyday rounds of errands and work, but there's a million person demonstration planned for tomorrow, I believe.
   Who's writing this down? Who will tell the stories of the movements for freedom? Will this proud ancient country birth itself into a new democracy, or will there be a stillbirth of broken dreams? What was it like to be in Alexandria this weekend, or Suez?
   The first person accounts of change and growth are vastly more interesting than the dry analysis offered in academic circles, or forcing the memorization of facts and statistics without the context of personal experience. In high school, the teacher gave a boring account of life with ration cards according to his manual. My grandma told me about punting to make do with what she had in the fridge. Two very different versions of the same story.
   My questions for the protesters: what was the final event that propelled you to get out and participate? What expectations did you have for the outcome? How did you feel once on the street? How did you manage your fear, if any, when the fighter jets started circling? How is life different now?
   Most importantly, do you feel that the outcome was worth any sacrifice that you made?
   I hope so.

Tuesday Thoughts

2011-01-25T09:01:00.000-08:00

   Tonight is the State of the Union address. My personal response: Benny Hill did a skit where there was silence for the first few seconds as the camera panned a kitchen. The bottom half of a body hanging from the ceiling, someone crouched by the oven with their head stuck inside, another with a bottle of poison still clutched in his hand. The announcer said, "That was the state of the nation address live from Parliament."
   I hope we don't come away that bleakly. I'll probably watch a movie and read the reviews tomorrow.
   I'm glad for Oprah and her sister. They found each other. But why was it on network world news yesterday? Let's see, yesterday we had the suicide bombing at the airport in Moscow; locally, Rahm Emanuel was removed from the Chicago mayoral election ballot because of voting and residency issues; we have the ~~whack job~~ suspect in the Tuscon shootings getting arraigned. Oh, that's right. My priorities are getting out of order. Forgive me.
   Glenn Beck's followers have started posting death threats against Frances Fox Pivins, a college professor who believes that no real economic change will happen until a grassroots movement to reclaim or create jobs begins. He's targeted her as a threat to the economy. Please.

Her Name is Christina

2011-01-13T12:14:00.000-08:00

   What would happen if we began to use figures of speech that don't involve violence? I've been wondering about that the last few days.
   A nine year old girl is being laid to rest as I write this. A nine year old girl named Christina who was bright and beautiful and curious about the workings of government, now that she was on student council.
   What would have happened if she'd been raised in a world where political opponents still referred to each other as "my learned colleague," disagreeing but not threatening with terms culled from the world of guns?
   This last Saturday, a family friend who wanted to support her desire for knowledge took her to a meet and greet with the local congress rep, Gabrielle Giffords (D-AZ).
   This last Saturday, a young man with a history of strange behavior made his way to the grocery store parking lot where Rep. Giffords mingled with her district's residents. For reasons clear only to his mind, he shot the congresswoman from Arizona at point blank range, and twenty others. Six, including Christina, died.
   As with any other event with a vague link to anything political, the debate on how to prevent a recurrence quickly dissolved into a pointing contest. The right is blaming the left; the left is blaming the right.
   Can we please return to the civilized middle before this happens again?

The Joan Crawford School of Parenting

2011-01-11T13:14:00.000-08:00

   Dear God,
   Please make this woman stop. Please, before someone gets hurt. Thanks.
   Amy Chua is an Ivy League law professor and the author of the brand new parenting book, Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother. She discusses perceived differences in parenting styles between Chinese and Western mothers and why the former have high achieving offspring. Some of her points are valid, such as making school come first and foremost, and believing in a child's strengths.
   Some aren't.
   Ms. Chua doesn't see anything wrong with calling children names and berating them to bend them to the parents' will. Or forcing them to practice an instrument for three hours a day, even on vacation, whether they want to learn an instrument or not. Or threatening to donate a beloved toy to the Salvation Army because one of her daughters struggled to learn a complicated composition, or refusing to let her go to the bathroom until she got it.
   It doesn't work.
   Now, granted that my background was a little different. My parents both had serious struggles: Mom had an aneurysm the size of a golf ball at the base of her skull. It had started to impact her behavior and judgement. My dad was posthumously diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome. He drank to control his symptoms.
   A call from my kindergarten teacher prompted IQ testing, which indicated that Both of them took it upon themselves to push me to live up to the expressed potential through threats. Until her death just after I finished fourth grade, Mom informed me that my math and spelling mistakes meant that I didn't love her and she was going to go stand on a street corner until she found someone who did. Dad held having the dog put to sleep or dumping me off on relatives or beatings over my head. Or called my grandmothers to inform in a very loud voice them everything that was wrong with me: that I was a fat, spacey, lazy, waste of intelligence.
   All that made me do was lie about my grades in high school to protect myself. The pathetic thing was that Dad never called the school or followed up with other parents about the paperless grade reporting system I invented. And put me a half-step from a full blown panic attack at all times.
   After, let's see, four years of counseling in in college, more work with a therapist and a lot of energy work, as well as a medical workup that diagnosed me with adrenal and thyroid problems, which can look a lot like ADD or ADHD, I finally realized that I wasn't such a waste of skin after all. Maybe I hadn't won a Nobel for something, but there were people and dogs out there who'd benefitted from my presence.
   The knowledge both of my issues and my parents' has made it easier to forgive--not excuse, but to let things go, knowing that they couldn't do any better.
   I hope Ms. Chua's daughters can reach the same place of peace someday.

Respite and Refuge in Vintage TV

2011-01-09T13:11:00.000-08:00

   US Rep. Gabrielle Giffords (D-AZ) and nineteen other people were shot at a meet and greet near Tuscon yesterday. A nine year old girl and a federal judge perished. Why? A disgruntled, disturbed person for reasons not yet discerned took a gun and started shooting. Rep. Giffords is in critical condition, but is expected to live.
   My mother in law is back in the hospital with another infection. This time, it's in her kidneys.
   As you read in an earlier post, adopting Sparkle fell through. One correction: it's not the EPI as feared, but they still don't know what's going on.
   A case of the flu I've tried to fight off for the better part of the week made a surprise attack this morning and cut me off at the knees.
   There's some consolation, however. Antenna TV launched over New Year's weekend. It's a substation owned by the Tribune company. Movies, sitcoms I couldn't watch in my adolescence, all there. So I've been drowning my sorrows in my role model, "Maude," and lifting my spirits on the politically incorrect wings of "Benny Hill" and "The Three Stooges."
   It's delicious, sort of like triple chocolate cake for the soul. Only it doesn't settle on the hips and thighs.

At Least the Sun is Out

2011-01-07T08:57:00.000-08:00

   The day began beneath a grey-capped sky. Slowly, the small rents in the clouds raveled into one another, and out came the sky.
   An odd white wisp occasionally floats past. Small patches of snow cling to the brown grass in the shady areas. One could almost be deluded into thinking that winter on the edge of the prairie isn't that bad.
   So far, we've been spared the near-zero temps and huge snowfalls (knock on coffee table). Those peter out by February. Maybe we dodged a bullet. Maybe not.
   Today, at least, the sun is out.

Random Thursday Thoughts

2011-01-06T08:32:00.000-08:00

   I'm tired today.
   I think I'm going to take a few days off from reading the news. I can't take any more for right now. Moving into I Can Has Cheezburger? until Monday sounds like a good idea.
   There's just been too much drama the last few days. Dogs with illnesses, weirdness...feeling disappointed that it all didn't get swept away at midnight on Friday last. As if last year tosses its tentacles into 2011 in its death throes.
   I am going to eat some chocolate, take a nap, and think about what I can do differently.

Eating the Live Toad

2011-01-03T12:14:00.000-08:00

   Once upon a longer time ago than I want to admit, one of the secretaries in an office where I had a work-study posting had a sign above her desk: EAT A LIVE TOAD FIRST THING IN THE MORNING AND NOTHING WORSE WILL HAPPEN TO YOU ALL DAY.
   Ok, so maybe the rest of the year will be smoother. The live toad du jour came in a call from Sparkle's foster mom on New Year's Eve. It wasn't a shelter borne bug.
   It's EPI, a condition where the pancreas can't make its own enzymes. No enzymes; no digestion. No digestion; no nutrients to absorb. Or why she ended up being so tiny.
   Treatable? Yes, but questions remain about how long. Sparkle is at higher risk for intestinal issues and infections. She's had good days when her meals have stayed put, giving her the energy to keep her 50-pound brothers in their place. But she's had more days when she's been lethargic and had to have food or fluids given by syringe or subcutaneously only to go flying through her system.
   After long talks and not a few tears, we made the decision to call off the adoption. Sparkle will be well cared for (foster mom is in healthcare).
   Things do work out as they need to, though. Sparkle's in the best, most loving possible hands.
   I'm feeling a little cold coming on. Maybe I should go over and see if I can move in for a couple of days.

2010: The Tiger Year in Review

2010-12-31T11:15:00.000-08:00

   This has been a Tiger year. Chinese astrology teaches us that Tiger years bring upheaval, change, havoc, unrest, and other opportunities for personal growth.
   On the world stage, innumerable earthquakes, the BP oil rig disaster, North Korea on less than best behavior, more problems in Africa, Wikileaks....shall I continue? Naah.
   In my personal circles, there's been at least three deaths from cancer, divergent paths, elders experiencing the ructions of age, too many replacements of electronics and appliances to count, and worst of all, Orion's crossing of the Bridge.
   Through Facebook, I learned that people in all corners of the world have crazy people to deal with. I've joined in the shouts of joy over several births and mourned leavetakings with others, and been mourned with for Orion.
   And also through Facebook, his little sister, Sparkle, found us. This tiny girl with a big heart and bigger brain has some health concerns related to having been a stray and six weeks in a shelter, but as soon as she heals, she'll be coming home. And getting her own Facebook page to boot.
   It makes me cherish what and who's left that much more. Thanks, everyone....

It's Six Days Before Christmas...

2010-12-19T18:51:00.000-08:00

...and I don't really care. Gift certificates will be snagged; perhaps a batch or two of cookies baked. Beyond that, you're on your own, world.
   It's not just a backlash against materialism or a questioning of the religion that I was raised in. Let me back up. To Christmas Eve, 1971.
   My mother fussed over holiday details. The cookies, the dinner, the decorations, all fell into place by December 23, in time for our Christmas Eve gathering. She stayed up late, fussing with this and that, then rearranging the tinsel on the tree.
   Excitement propelled me downstairs. "What are you doing up?" she asked.
   "Couldn't sleep."
   She smiled, then continued with her fussing.
   I played with one of my new dolls and then noticed that the little hand of the clock pointed to the twelve, and the big one to the one. "Mom, is it Christmas now?"
   "Yes, it is." We hugged and wished each other Merry Christmas, and gazed at her tree. Somehow, I got back to bed and to sleep.
   We didn't know that it would be her last. Six months later, almost to the day, a heart attack claimed her life.
   We lurched into December 1972, staggering around the hole left by her leave taking. Much of it fell to my siblings. Dad unsuccessfully tried to cauterize the raw wounds with Scotch. An innocent question lead to getting dragged out to the kitchen by my forearms and a lecture about how it was my fault because I'd wanted a bike for my birthday.
   I stayed close to my sister the rest of the night.
   She went back to her apartment. My brother graduated and moved 700 miles away.
   By the time I was in junior high, the Christmas mantle had been dropped on my head. Along with hints that it would disappoint my grandmothers if the house wasn't decorated, and that it was all my fault if my siblings didn't play nice with each other.
   So I tried and tried, and tried some more, to create the perfect holiday and conjure the perfect presents (many of which went to Goodwill) and be the consummate hostess as my mother had been. Too many gatherings featured screaming, the niece and nephew bouncing off the walls, and The Spouse feeling coerced into celebrating a holiday he didn't believe in (we're different ethnic and religious backgrounds).
   A "thank you" would have been nice. An acknowledgement would have been great.
   Finally, when my niece and nephew grew to the same age I had been when the holidays had been dumped into my lap, something went off in my head. It was unrelated to the kava kava that I popped like chocolate to say calm that year. Wait a goddam minute: when I was their age...
   The Spouse and I bowed out the next year. We on a short getaway and gave gift cards so people could pick out their own presents. I went into January rash free and much calmer.
   So, my gentle readers, if you need me that day, I'll be here at home with The Spouse. We'll be watching our gift to each other, "The Tudors" complete set. I'll make a nice dinner for the two of us. You'll be fine. So will we.

Not Quite the Package She Expected

2010-12-14T13:04:00.000-08:00

http://www.accessatlanta.com/celebrities-tv/postal-worker-arrested-after-776764.html

Gee, he wanted to cheer her up with a surprise.....

We Interrupt Today's Events To Discuss An Ongoing Issue

2010-12-13T12:44:00.000-08:00

So you think that you know about poverty? Take this quiz.
I found out that I didn't know as much as I thought I did. Half in Ten has set an ambitious goal of cutting the poverty rate in half by 2020.

Numbers are on the rise in the suburbs.
The majority are white.
The federal poverty line is about $20K, but for an average two-kid two-income family, it takes over $40k to stay solvent.

Please, can you stop http://halfinten.org to find out what else you can do? Thanks.

Cables: Are They Making a Comeback?

2010-12-02T09:28:00.000-08:00

Been watching the unfolding saga of the latest WikiLeaks release. Unflattering comments about world leaders? Gracious. Gathering info on UN delegations? Goodness. Tales of Prince Andrew acting like a buffoon? Gasp. The US has been pressured by the Saudis to take steps against Iran? Well, a bit of surprise there.
But that the US still uses cables for diplomatic communiques? Now, that's a surprise. Or is it?

Despite being low-tech, they're still harder to hack than email, even encrypted ones.
The codes in the header provide inviolable proof of where the cable came from and its destination. Each terminal has its own unique code. They are the only electronic communications that stand up international courts because of it.
The financial industry still uses them to transfer money. Shipping companies use them as well.
They're still fairly common in remote corners where phone systems can barely support calls, let alone any form of the Internet. It only takes a baud rate of 50 to send one using Telex machines still in operation.

Emails? They've gone to being mundane and common. Faxes? Nice for hard copies, but a bit utilitarian. But sending a cable evokes an era of mystery and glamour that may be entering its new golden age.

There's Something About a Royal Wedding

2010-11-21T09:57:00.000-08:00

Unemployment.

The world economy in tatters.

Voters choosing based on their wallets but without regard to minor issues such as basic human rights.

Nuclear threats.

A royal wedding.

No, this was 29 years ago. In the eerie way that history repeats itself, we find the world in a precarious place, or at least said place getting more coverage.

Just as Charles and Di so kindly took everyone's minds off it all for a day (and gave the UK a government hol), William and Kate will be doing said same this coming summer. They plan to scale it back a bit, though. Charles and Camilla in their capacity as civil servants will be footing the bill from their own pocketbooks.

A bit of glitter makes the world look better, even if for a fleeting moment.

Breaking News on Kilt Protest

2010-11-16T09:30:00.000-08:00

Kilt protest info

We Interrupt Today's Events

2010-11-16T09:24:00.000-08:00

   It is announced that HRH Prince William and his longtime girlfriend Kate Middleton are (finally) officially engaged. The wedding date will be arranged soon.
   Ok, ok. I know that this is irrelevant to many. In the larger world, we have a death toll of 1,000 in Haiti from a cholera outbreak. I'm waiting on the justice system to go after George W. and Company for his published confession. I'm looking for the link for the group of men who want to show up en masse at airports in kilts to protest the TSA pat downs (posted here as soon as I find it).The smaller world has ongoing issues with eldercare and the day to day challenges of life in these times.
     But, dear God, I need a break. Some watch shows like "Desperate Housewives" or "Grey's Anatomy." Others escape into sci-fi or games. Me? Give me a good slice of historical pie or a story about England's Monarchy. Brew some proper real tea with a splash of milk and let me sit on the sofa with Phillippa Gregory or Alison Weir and I will come back a new woman.
   History teaches us how much things haven't changed. If we were just simply to state the facts (a cholera epidemic is afoot; a puppet leader is getting away with torture; a protest is planned; a prince is to wed a commoner), what century would we be in?
   As we ponder that question, the staff at this blog sends His Highness and Ms. Middleton all the best, and respectfully reminds them that there's enough time to keep Vegas open as an option.

Tasks du Jour

2010-11-15T13:01:00.000-08:00

Work on Swan and Iris. (will be out before T-day)
Work on bio for one of the NBRAN dogs.
Work on new novel set in the Tudor era.
Work on old novel.

Oh, I'm going to go make a cake.

Guess What I'm Not Using My Gift Card For?

2010-11-12T09:17:00.000-08:00

   This week, I've been watching the drama unfold over the release of George W.'s book Decision Points. It scares me on so many levels.
   It scares me that he ended up in office to begin with. His ascent and administration does not reflect the America that I was promised in history and civics classes.
   It scares me that that many people would fork over $35 for a book written by him.
   Most of all, it scares me that any publishing company would lower itself in the name of money to commit his words to print. That's as big a crime as anything that he 'fessed up to in this book.

Post Election Wrapup

2010-11-09T09:48:00.000-08:00

Pat Quinn is still governor. Could be worse. It could be Bill Brady with his Dark Ages attitudes towards women and animals and land owners in the way of his family's real estate. I voted my heart, conscience and wallet for Rich Whitney (G). If those two are the best the Dems and Republicans can cough up, it comes down to keeping the greater evil out of office.
Mark Kirk (R) won President Obama's old seat. Senator Elect Kirk has shown a lot of creativity with the stories of his military service (ie, awards he won as part of a unit and not as an individual; being deployed places that he wasn't). I hope that he can use his creativity to get us out of the mess we're in on a national level.

T-24 Hours and Counting

2010-11-01T09:11:00.000-07:00

   Tomorrow, finally, is election day. Finally. Obviously, I will go vote. There's too much at stake this time. My duties are to choose a governor, a senator, a US representative, and several county board members.
   It's been a long and silly season. Rich Whitney (G-Governor) wasn't allowed on the televised debates with Gov. Quinn and state Sen. Brady. He instigated a lawsuit against WTTW last week on the grounds of denial of his fair share of air time.
   I hope Mr. Whitney wins his case. I've watched him in interviews. He's been poised. He's not resorted to mudslinging, just to what he intends to do to serve the state.
   In the clips of the debates between Brady and Quinn, they behaved worse than a couple of first graders fighting over a swing. Neither of them offered any solutions to the state's economy, the biggest issue. Same performance by senate candidates Giannulias and Kirk. Green candidate LeAlan Jones was leveraged out of the televised debates as well. That saddens me. Did you know that he turned down a job in investment banking so that he could be sure that he raised his nephews right? He had guardianship of them and wanted to live up to his obligations.
   Over the last few months, I've struggled where to place my vote. I know I certainly don't want Brady in there. Kirk and his works of fiction have turned me off to no end. Quinn's not done very much. Following you heart is a catch phrase used with alarming frequency these days. In this case, where will it take me if I vote with it?

You Want My Vote, Honey? Here's What You Do

2010-10-26T09:10:00.000-07:00

1. Demonstrate compassion for humanity.
2. Tell me in your ads what you'll do for me and how. Don't just sit there while you spout off about your opponent's douchebag behavior or how you'll represent your special interests. Give me some solid reasons.
3. Behave like a grownup during debates. You will get your turn. You will not get my vote if you interrupt your learned opponent or if you descend to the level of first grade insults. I saw some of the debates between Alexi Giannoulis and Mark Kirk. What part of "grow up" do you not understand?

Do that, and you have me. Thank you.

So What's a Media Maven To Do?

2010-10-20T10:06:00.000-07:00

Oh, you read the rant about news? Thanks for reading this, too.

Now you know why I stopped donating to WTTW in Chicago some years ago. Their program/arts/culture guide ran a review of a restaurant that featured live sushi. Said reviewer acted as if it were funny to eat a not-dead-yet fish while it took its last breaths in front of the diners. No. And no, I will not send money to any organization that appears to exist for the sole purpose of raising funds for itself.

While I'm not thrilled with some NPR sponsors, I contribute to Northern Public Radio, the mother ship for WNIU (one day pledge drives) and WNIJ from Northern Illinois University. That way I can keep NPR and classical on the air. And in the interest of naming names, I don't deal with WBEZ's calls for money at 10 p.m. Oh, and WDCB for the jazz and folk(and limiting fundraising to twice a year).

Outlets I'm happy with:

Pam's House Blend has great coverage of human rights and news feeds to other stories of interest.
Common Dreams is completely free of ads and has links to like-minded sites
International news from France 24, BBC and Al-Jazzera on line and on MHZ networks.

Real news is only a click away.

Is There Any Such Thing as a Free Press Anymore?

2010-10-20T09:14:00.000-07:00

   I'm wondering this after this morning's news cruise.
   Over at Common Dreams this morning, there's an article on FAIR's analysis of PBS programming. To no one's surprise and much to my sorrow, FAIR determined that most of the news sponsorship was corporate (gasp) with emphasis on defense contractors and big ag; that there was a noted lack of diversity (horrors); and that much of the pledge drive programming consists of infomericials for self-help gurus. How that's different from the other networks is beyond me.
   Maybe constitutionally, we have a free press. ABC, NBC, CBS, and Fox are free to report on whatever their sponsors will let them.

If Only We Could Get People In Charge To Be This Creative

2010-10-15T13:02:00.000-07:00

CNN reported this. A guy in a grass suit who was busted by a police dog. Just read the article.
How would the world be different? No telling, but I'm sure that it wouldn't be any more stuck than it is.

This Just In: DADT Finally Freaking Ruled Unconstitutional

2010-10-12T14:04:00.000-07:00

   The BBC reports what so many of us have known or felt all along: Don't Ask, Don't Tell has been declared unconstitutional by a federal judge. Citing violations of the 5th Amendment ( against self-incrimination) and the risk to national security presented by the divisiveness of the policy, it's been halted.
   And please, God, let it not be appealed. President Obama has been going off about being a fierce ally of the LGBTQ community. This is his chance to prove it.

What Brings You Joy?

2010-10-11T09:04:00.000-07:00

   Some years ago, I participated in a journal group, five or six women at its core, with friends popping in and out. "What brings you joy?" was the usual greeting of one of them.
   It stopped me cold in the tracks of many a bitch and moan fest. Not "How are you?" with the socially conventional, "Oh, fine. And you?" when I was aware that I'd chewed a new hole in my bite guard (I grind my teeth in my sleep. Feel free to report me to "TMZ.") And stood poised to chant the litany of what had triggered it.
   On to this past weekend. I couldn't watch the news--humanity has collectively lost it. The Spouse did some technological upgrading around the house. His mom is back in the hospital after falling for the second time in a month. What's bringing you joy? echoed from some deep recess of my memory.
   Well, there's the flowers the The Spouse bestowed on me for my birthday, and the cake. We went for a hike and out for a good dinner. I found the Dali Lama's website. The weather was great. Today is Eleanor Roosevelt's birthday. My tea is just right.
   So what's bringing you joy today?

Notes from Behind the Love Seat

2010-10-07T10:06:00.000-07:00

   Originally I was going to write about how the world has gone totally insane. Then I realized that it already nuts, making my views redundant.
   It's not even noon as I tap away. So far, there's a high ranking appointee by the governor of Indiana who was busted in a men's room for exposing himself and encouraging an undercover cop to touch him. (http://pamshouseblend.com). Of course he's a Republican family values supporter.
   I'm waiting on word about the case before the SCOTUS, the one concerning the (protect your keyboards) Westboro Cult Baptist Church. You know, the good people who show up at kids' events and other churches with the lovely neon signs to spread Jesus' love by using homophobic slurs and telling passersby that they're going to hell? The ones who attend funerals of soldiers to inform the grieving families that their child's death was God punishing America for tolerating (insert slur here)? Oh, and make up lyrics detailing their...whatever. It is not theology....viewpoints to songs by Lady Gaga and Ozzy Osbourne? Yep. They're being taken to task by the Snyder family for protesting at their son's funeral. (http://commondreams.org)
   While you're over at Common Dreams, check out the story about the fire department that let a house burn to the ground because the owner hadn't paid the $75 fee.
   As all things do, this cycle of crazy will pass. Won't it? In the mean time, you know where to find me.

I Heart my Mac

2010-10-04T14:24:00.000-07:00

   Steeped in Laura Ingalls Wilder and Louisa May Alcott, I envisioned my writing career centered around an antique oak table with pens and writing tablets, perhaps a typewriter. In a garret overlooking a scene that varied from day to day. Sometimes I overlooked a sunny apple orchard on my estate in Vermont. Other times, I found myself watching the cityscape of Manhattan.
   Well, it came to pass that I sit on my green sofa in the family room, looking out over the soybean fields with my Mac on my lap. The romantic idea of pens and tablets is, unfortunately, quaint, save for personal journaling and first drafts.
   Getting me this far technologically took getting dragged by the pits by The Spouse (an engineer who was allowed one "I told you so")with a cadre of friends on the ankles. And being very specific about not wanting a PC again in this life or the next ones after several crashes and a virus last year.
   This past weekend was the one year anniversary of working with my Mac. One freezup in the whole year. Now I know what the fuss about technology is about.

This Should Not Have Happened And Hell, Yeah, I'm Taking It Personally

2010-10-01T09:27:00.000-07:00

No.

I just feel ill when I see stories about bullying. Earlier this year, there was Phoebe in Massachusetts. She was targeted another girl who'd been complained about by several other parents for her cyber abuse of fellow students. Earlier this week, there was Ashton in Texas. Now there's Tyler at Rutgers. Click on the purple "no" at the top of this entry for the HuffPost's coverage.

The combination I presented--that of being taller and heavier than average, sounding more like an adult than a kid, and the premarital name of Gay--was like a bullseye to the arrows of the bullies K-12. My parents diligently reported incidents to the principal, but nothing really was done about any of it.

Telling the kid to have compassion for the bully doesn't work. "Well, we just have to learn to get along" is useless. Ignoring doesn't work, and that goes double if it gets physical. It's called assault, battery, defamation of character. All crimes in the adult world, so why put up with it in children?

Especially not now in the cyber-age. I had to deal with prank calls, practical jokes, and unordered pizza delivery. That was bad enough. Finding that images of myself in a sensitive situation had been taped and uploaded without my knowledge or consent is incomprehensible.

I went to an away college and then moved from my hometown. I'm married to a man who comes from a culture that adores the curvier variations of the female form and regularly tells me that women with graduate degrees are hot. Life did get better, even though I felt as if I danced down an IED-filled road as I passed though the early part.

But I'm here now. I have no wisdom to offer, except that if you can't get the principal, the administration, the R.D. (resident director) to help you, get the ACLU or some other group behind you. You don't deserve this. The shame is on them, and someday they will be the victims of their actions.

An Update and Related Thoughts

2010-09-29T09:22:00.000-07:00

   Let's start with the update: I did get a response to the email I sent to the marketing director at the theater where The Spouse and I saw the trainwreck of a show this past Saturday. While she apologized for the disappointment we experienced, she included a patronizing reminder that there was a warning in the brochure (albeit a very inadequate one) and the website billed it as rated R (at the time I checked to see when the tickets went on sale, oh, no they had not put up the big red letter in the lower right corner). She kindly included links.
   I didn't bother to click on them. I know what I heard at the show, and I know what I read. The inaccurate description and refusal to own up to it bothered me more than the monologue itself.
   Anyone who's known me for more than, oh, ten minutes is aware that I drop my share of f-bombs. I try not to do so out of respect to others' sensibilities until I get to know them and know what their boundaries are. I also do it for free.
   There are times in the arts that it becomes necessary to use coarse language or graphic imagery. Character development and authentic dialog are two situations when you may have to let 'er rip. Visuals depicting the consequences of inhuman behavior, such as Picasso's "Guarnica" would have lost power had they been dumbed down or sanitized. If there's a point to it, so be it. If there is no point, it brings into question the talents of the performer or writer or comic.
   I'd like to believe there's a caring person inside the rage the main act exhibited on stage. By the end of the night, I wanted to gently take him by the shoulders, sit him down, and tell him that it's ok to be angry (among other issues, he's just been divorced and his ex got everything except the clothes on his back), but that it's not ok to use racial stereotypes and insult people who make up the bulk of your fan base because they liked your two tv shows).
   Just as the marketing director didn't get it, he wouldn't either. So I'm going to go crawl inside a Jane Austen movie until I feel that I can face the world again.

The -Isms, -Ists, And -Phobes Are Regrettably Alive and Well

2010-09-27T09:21:00.000-07:00

   Early this morning, I sent an email to the director of marketing at a local theatre.
   Back up a few steps. The act we saw over the weekend was not a stand up comedian as billed. We'd seen him on TV in a couple of sitcoms. Impressed with his writing skills and performance ability, The Spouse decided that he wanted to see him in person. I purchased tickets for the local appearance as a birthday present. OK, fine.
   First act we liked. Second, I liked: the next Roseanne is on the rise. Finally the star of the show. Started funny, then three minutes into his spew routine, used a homophobic slur, then aimed racist comments at two interracial couples in the front rows. He made several cruel comments to elderly people sitting up front, and compared the intimate parts of women's bodies to terminals where one swipes debit cards in checkout lines. From there, it deteriorated.
   He kept saying, "There are no stereotypes," as if justifying his views. It was as if he tried to turn back every social reform movement back to the '50's.
   Try the 1850's.
   Maybe I'm naive, or spoiled rotten by my friends in common reality and on Facebook who hold a vision of a just, equal, and peaceful world, but I felt my face freeze into the quintessential "OMG" position. People were laughing at that?
   I wish that we'd just walked out. The brochure made it sound as if it would be like his TV act, but naughtier and a few f-bombs here and there. The only people more surprised and ticked than us were likely the elderly people in the crowd.
   So I wrote the email this morning. Stressed that I don't advocate censorship, but that I would have appreciated a more accurate description in order to make up my own mind about it. I don't know if I'll get a response, and I'm ok with it.
   But we did decide not to see other standup acts in the future unless we knew what we were getting into.
   And I decided that if that's the world of the hip and trendy, keep it. I'll stay home Saturdays with Garrison Keillor and pizza.

More Victims of the Economy

2010-09-21T08:36:00.000-07:00

http://www.wgntv.com/videobeta/426a8e42-826a-44a0-a163-deba7edd3808/News/Animal-shelter-at-risk-for-closing

Yesterday, WGN-TV reported that Save-a Pet shelter in north suburban Greyslake is at risk for closing due to funding issues. They need to raise $500,000 by the end of the year. If you can donate, and to learn more, please go to http://saveapetil.org If you can't, please include them in your practice, or think good thoughts at them. Thank you.

Which God Do You Believe In?

2010-09-09T11:45:00.000-07:00

   "God will get you/them/him/her for that." Some days I find comfort in the words of the sage woman Maude Finley. This is especially helpful for anyone who volunteers in domestic animal rescue. Have a badly treated dog or cat? Use that as a mantra while helping to get them to the vet's and into a foster home. It keeps you focused on the situation in front of you without draining your resources plotting vengance.
   Other days, I have a vision of God who is on everyone's side. One who is warm and fuzzy and unconditionally loving.
   Maybe the truth lies in the middle.

The Winter's Amusements are At Hand

2010-09-08T09:45:00.000-07:00

   A walk is in order today. It's blue and bright, moderate temperatures.
   This is the first week after Labor Day. I accept and give thanks for the gift of this day, a jewel in the more uncertain weather that develops as the days grow shorter. It's inevitable that cold winds will come whipping through the field surrounding the house, shaking the snow from the evergreen boughs. Even though wisdom dictates sheltering one's self from the elements, we'll still have distractions to fill the days.
   The two big ones: the retrial of ex-Governor Blagojevich starting on January 4. But from now until March, we'll have the mayoral election in Chicago to observe.
   Yesterday, Richard Daley called a press conference detailing some cabinet changes. Thinking it a mundane housekeeping detail, very few reporters showed up. The ones who did had the privilege of witnessing history: Mayor Daley announced that he would not be seeking a seventh term of office. No reason given, just that he felt it was time.
   In that instance, a sure bet went out the window in a vortex of speculation. Whom would Chicago voters see on the ballot in March? Why was he so abruptly making the announcement?
   Three theories tossed about on the latter: 1. a plummeting approval rating; 2. his wife's health (Ms. Daley has been reminding cancer of its proper place in the grand scheme since 2002, I think, but had to be treated for a bone lesion last spring); and 3. his father, the first Mayor Daley, died of a heart attack in his office on the fifth floor of City Hall. My two cents is a combination of those factors. But we'll never know for sure. He kept describing his decision as personal, and I'll respect that, hoping others will as well.
   As far as the former is concerned, get your scorecards ready. We're in for another round of Chicago civics.
   This winter will not be dull, certainly. But we will stay in this day, and we will take a walk.

Paris' and Lindsay's Divine Purpose, Part 2

2010-09-07T08:22:00.000-07:00

(Yesterday's entry was interrupted by an impulse trip to Target. I'm back.)

One of the ironies of the shadow: it contains your greatest strengths. It's not unlike cleaning out an old purse and finding a substantial stash of change. Each of those coins has a flip side. Stubborness' reverse is patience. (Allegedly) telling detectives that a vial of coke is ashes from one of your dogs indicates an ability to creatively think on the fly.

You get the picture. Wouldn't it be nice if for their sakes, and their families, they would, too?

The Divine Purpose of Lindsay and Paris

2010-09-06T11:07:00.000-07:00

   Crash course in Jungian theory: the shadow knows. The shadow is the part of your psyche where all the aspects of your self that you don't want to admit to reside. You know what I mean. The parts of you that just don't exist. Yeah, you know: your passive-aggressive streak, your vanity, your denial. It seethes and plots behind your persona, the mask covering the tender parts beneath.
   And that, my dears, is the purpose of the people who dance awkwardly through their lives in the public eye. We can have our little vicarious hits of fame and fortune, yet rest secure in knowing that our mundanity is safe. It's common to dream of adoration.
   Do either of them, however, dream of what it's like to be a midwest hippie chick?

The Rains of Autumn

2010-09-03T09:42:00.000-07:00

The rains came a tad early this year. Usually the storms confirming that summer's winding to a close falls after Labor Day. This year, they fell over two days.

These are the rains that signal to the hunter/gatherer brain that it's time to prepare to batten down the hatches against the inevitable winds and snow. The soul translates their message into one of taking stock and letting go of what is no longer useful or workable.

One of these storms blew up from the south last night. I finished preparing dinner, then gathered the flashlights and candles should the electricity go out. We watched TV, discussed plans for the weekend. I'll likely go to a music festival. The Spouse will be mowing and finishing up a wood working project. The generated sawdust has necessitated my leaving the car outside for the last few weeks. He thanked me for it.

We lapsed into a lull. He suddenly straightened up and asked, "Hey, aren't your windows open?"

Today is bright and blue and windy. It's just perfect for drying a soggy interior.

Any Questions?

2010-08-31T15:21:00.000-07:00

see more Political Pictures

Really, I Was Just Doing Some Research: The Guilty Pleasure of You Tube

2010-08-30T09:07:00.000-07:00

   Ok, ok. You caught me. I'm working on a novel about a band, one contemporary to the Police, U2, Genesis. Feeling stuck, I entered the names of some of my favorite songs into my favorite search engine.
   Courtesy of You Tube, I was able to see videos for "If You Love Somebody (Set Them Free)," (not impressed, Sting not withstanding), "We'll Be Together" (cute), and "Desert Rose" (Gordon Matthew Sumner, you can do better than a ride into Vegas in a Jag, especially for a song of that magnitude).
   Music aside, there are the innumerable videos of pets acting adorably (such as one involving two Brittanys telling their two-legged mom that it was time to get up). I'm an idiot for those.
   Sometimes, there's a whoop of insanity as refreshing as cold water on a hot day. The Internet is Made of Cats came courtesy of a friend's blog (thank you, Charlie!), and I load it up when I need a giggle or two. Then there's a live version of Solsbury Hill with an exuberantly goofy twist.
   Happy Monday.

Our Winter's Diviersion

2010-08-26T11:39:00.000-07:00

US v. Blagojevich round 2 begins on January 4, 2011.
The US dropped all charges against Robert, long suffering brother of Rod.
You have enough time to stock up on snacks, Gentle Readers.

Prayers for Pakistan

2010-08-23T12:45:00.000-07:00

Great Mystery, You Who holds the planets in Your palm and Who keeps the seasons in order, hear us now as we pray for your children, our brothers and sisters in Pakistan. Please help us all put politics and ideologies aside just long enough to hear Your words in our hearts and respond to the flood survivors' cries for help. Grant that we may all come together and play our parts in helping to clothe, feed, and shelter them and support them in creating a brighter tomorrow. In the names of the Prince and Princess of Peace, amen and thank you.

Convicted on One Count of Fibbing to the FBI

2010-08-18T11:51:00.000-07:00

   Finally, the verdict was handed down yesterday for ex-Governor Blagojevich. Guilty of lying to the FBI.
   That was the only one that unanimously stuck. The other 23 counts for wire fraud, extortion, soliciting bribes, the jury was hung. Evidently, one juror was left unconvinced.
   The defense team of Adams pere et fils should send flowers.
   Of course US States Attorney Patrick Fitzgerald wants to retry the case. While ex-Gov. B attempted and conspired to do bad things for his own personal gain, no money exchanged hands, nor was there a direct link to someone's injury or death as it was with George Ryan's proceedings (a commercial license had been procured through bribes for an inept driver, leading to an accident that wiped out six of eight children in a family).
   By no means do I believe that Rod should walk free. Does he need to pay a consequence? Yes, but keep in mind that there are worse things someone could do than not being able to keep his pie hole shut.

Still Waiting

2010-08-12T07:21:00.000-07:00

   So we finally had a little movement in the Blagojevich trial--the jury sent a note to the judge. Did they have to be total accordance with each other on all the charges?
   No...
   So the mystery continues. Which charges they're deadlocked on, we don't know. Which ones are still shadowed with doubt, we don't know.
   I'm listening to WBBM, which I rarely do. Since there's a status meeting scheduled for later this morning, I want to keep an ear peeled. Will this be the day a verdict is handed down? I don't know, but we will shortly.

We're Waiting

2010-08-09T13:14:00.000-07:00

   Been a little negligent in my two cents on the Rod Blagojevich trial.
   Briefly recapping: jury's been out nine days. We wait. We wait. And wait some more.
   For some unstated reason, the defense chose not to present their case, and rested immediately after the prosecution did the same. In some logic that defies explanation, the defense chose to rest because the prosecution had made all the arguments for them.
   Meaning...what? Were they that scared that ex-Gov. B would make himself look like an even bigger doofus that the prosecution had made him seem? Or that to save some shred of dignity, perjury would have to be committed? Once it's disclosed that a governor hid in the bathroom to avoid the budget director, and that he'd spent $400,000 on clothes which sent him onto debt, hence the alleged attempts at soliciting bribes, it would be harder to make him look worse.
   So, some nine days later, we wait. Is the jury making sure that they have their ducks in a row before they return the verdict? Are they hung? Or are they listening to the tapes for what a friend of mine, a retired lawyer, calls "the yuck factor" and laughing hysterically?
   Stay tuned, Gentle Readers.

How To Tell if You Need A Break from News

2010-08-03T11:49:00.000-07:00

From my dream journal 8/2/10.....I'm being interviewed by Katie Couric. She has tracked me down to interview me about Rod Blagojevich's corruption trial. In the dream, I'm one of his ex-girlfriends. There are flashbacks to pivotal points in our relationship. The dream ends with me in the Thompson Center (the state office building in downtown Chicago) and Rod following me into the ladies' room, begging me to believe in his innocence.

I studied Carl Jung in grad school. I've kept track of my dreams since then. It's been helpful, and have figured out what symbols correlate with which events in my life. But, please, can't I just have a dream about horses or rainbows and unicorns or mythology? Please?

The High Price of Incompetence

2010-07-23T12:04:00.000-07:00

http://www.cnn.com/2010/US/07/23/gulf.platform.alert/index.html

   It always comes down to simple human stupidity error, doesn't it?
   I'm shocked, but not surprised. The alarms had been inhibited so that the crew could get a good night's sleep. OK, well and good. Personally, if I were quartered in a huge body of water on a rig that dealt with oil and all the industrial chemicals, and knowing what they could do, the alarms would have been the last thing keeping me awake.
   I just can't get my brain around this sort of behavior, just as I couldn't get my brains around the BBC report a few weeks ago that the ball bouncing up the chain of command had been dropped. I don't have the citation handy, but recapping to my best recollection, a worker saw an alarm go off. He told his supervisor, who told his supervisor, and then that was that. For some unfathomable reason, no action was taken.
   As a result of two relatively small inactions, eleven families lost loves ones, and many more are losing their livelihoods, and even more are losing the beaches where their memories live. You can't put a dollar figure on this, but I hope that the courts come close.

"Blagojevich" is Serbian for "Toast"

2010-07-21T14:13:00.000-07:00

   After 18 long months of the good ex-Gov. Blagojevich protesting his innocence, demanding his day in court, guess what? On advice of his lead council, it ain't gonna happen.
   The defense team stated that the Feds had proved all their points for them, making it unnecessary to put Rod on the stand. What points? That he was involved in a lot of horse trading? That he ran his face too much? Yeah. But one must ask if this decision wasn't to protect the defendant, especially after the tapes the jury heard. How do you answer the question, "Would you please explain what you meant when you said, 'I have this thing and it's bleeping golden?'"
   How would he answer it, indeed. The jury's been regaled by profanity-laced diatribes all ready. Witnesses for the prosecution have told stories of Mr. B hiding in the bathroom to avoid meetings with the budget director. What could that trigger off in terms of a melt down? Looks as if we'll never know.
   Without any witnesses, the case goes to the jury on Monday. Stay tuned.

Mel and Lindsay Do Their Patriotic Duty

2010-07-15T09:24:00.000-07:00

   I have a working theory on the ongoing sagas of Mel Gibson and Lindsay Lohan. It's a conspiracy to divert our collective attention from what's going on in the world.
   No, really. What's more interesting, trainwrecks or ongoing environmental damage? Two actors who had half the world at their disposal before the heady mixture of ego and mood altering agents seeped into their lives, or a group of fanatics who use the same logic as the Taliban to push their agenda? She's going to jail on Tuesday for ninety days (more likely three weeks before getting trundled off to a rehab spa). His latest round of alleged misbehavior is under investigation, and ABC reported that the tapes his girlfriend leaked may have been doctored.
   In my darker moments, I wonder if they don't get paid for pulling stunts like that by some covert office in Washington. A little known department of the CIA, say. ("Mr. Gibson, your country needs you..." "Ms. Lohan, we need you to serve as a distraction....") Of course, they'd get handsome rewards for it.
   Even if it doesn't take that much to distract the unsuspecting public.

A Benefit for the Gulf Going on Now

2010-07-10T08:23:00.000-07:00

I put together a nifty short journaling class to benefit three suggested organizations in the Gulf. What you do is leave me a message here with your email if I don't have it, then I send you the PDF, then you send the love donation to the organization of your choice. Included are exercises, some disturbing info about BP and the US military, and my blessings. Thanks.

Excuse Me, Mr. Lohan, Your Daughter Failed The System

2010-07-07T08:49:00.000-07:00

   Oh, please. "Today" just reported that Michael Lohan, father of Lindsay Lohan, walked up to a bank of mics after her latest court date and told the world that they system had failed his daughter.
   The former actress turned celebrity trainwreck appeared in court yesterday for her probation hearing stemming from a 2008 possession charge. She's missed drug and alcohol rehab classes up the kazoo. Her SCRAM anklet went off once (that we the public know of), indicating alcohol use.
   The judge sentenced her to 90 days, starting on the 20th of this month.
   The cameras caught shots of Ms. Lohan sobbing that she was trying to take responsibility for her life and that jail would prevent her from earning a living (anyone remember her doing anything other than go to parties, jail, or rehab in the last five years?). And then there was a close up of one of her middle fingers. On it was written, "F*** you."
   Not a good way to invoke a judge's grace and favor.
   In another lifetime, I was an addictions counselor. Oh, the lies, the stories my clients told. Oh, the coverups by their significant others. Were there some who fell through the cracks? With the social service network as it was, it was regrettably inevitable. In her case, though, the odds would be a lot less because the treatment centers wouldn't be as overcrowded. Some of my clients made good recoveries. Many more probably could have used jail time to wake them up.
   I just hope that Lindsay does before it's too late.

The Farm Report

2010-06-28T09:00:00.000-07:00

Two tomato plants (one yellow grape, one an heirloom irresistibly named Mr. Stripey)
One zucchini and one summer squash
Two basil plants, one Thai and one regular
Packets of bean and spinach seeds
Marigolds for a border and to keep bugs at bay

Ok, so it's a little late. But with the way the summer's shaping up, it shouldn't be a problem. For our next trick, we turn the soil over and stick them into the ground.

We also bought shrubs, small ones that will complement the house but won't compete with the foundation. Oh, don't forget the flowers. A deeply discounted planter of Gerbera daisies and some random geraniums corralled into pots with lobelia welcome visitors to the front. n the back step we have petunias, geraniums, begonias, and moss roses.

It was good to get out, to reconnect with the earth that way. We slept better, indeed.

Can We Take A Hint, People?

2010-06-23T12:55:00.000-07:00

http://earthquake.usgs.gov/earthquakes/recenteqsww/Quakes/us2010xwa7.php

This 5. 5 quake, some 37 miles north of Ottawa, Ontario, shook that city as well as Montreal and Toronto. The tremors reverberated as far south as Virginia and as far west as Chicago. This is the--oh, feh, I lost count. It's definitely been the year of the earthquake.

We also have the oil spill. One of the robots knocked the cap off the well and in turn the whole process back to square one.

Is this the year when we get our final warning about reversing environmental degradation? People? Are you listening? The earth is telling us she's really p.o.'d and I don't blame her at all. We are no further with ending our oil addiction, we have made no progress implementing green technologies. What's it going to take?

Obama's Chernobyl, or Can You Say Criminal Negligence?

2010-06-21T07:37:00.000-07:00

   That, my friends, is what this mess in the Gulf of Mexico is turning into.
   Today, http://bbc.co.uk reports that a worker did so see a leak in the blowout preventer (BOP), reported it to his supervisor, who in turn sent it up the chain of command. All that needed to be done was to switch over to a secondary BOP. No interruptions in production. Just hit a switch, and none of this would have happened.
   But no. Someone dropped the ball, and now BP, Transocean, and Halliburton are pointing fingers at one another in a circle blame game. President Obama is doing what he can, even if it's as a result of the foot of the opinion polls in his pants (are there no candidates who decline contributions from the oil companies? Like Ralph Nader? Or why I am likely to change my party affiliation to Green.)
   So while the rhetoric floats like so many tar balls, we are faced with two very real, very possible problems: that the oil will ride currents to many other shores, and that the rapidly emptying well could become a sinkhole.
   I've added my prayers and visualizations. Is there anything that can stop this and clean it up?

Would This Have Happened Had She Been a Man?

2010-06-07T13:26:00.000-07:00

I don't friggin' think so.

Helen Thomas announced her retirement effective immediately today. After almost 50 years working at the White House for UPI, she abruptly retired. Why? On May 27, someone asked her about her feelings on Israel and Palestine. She responded that Israel should get out of Palestine and strongly suggested that the citizens should go back to Poland and Germany.

I don't know about the latter half of the remark, but the first half reflects the growing frustration many people feel about the Middle East, and the deeper frustration of being labeled anti-Semetic if you disagree with the Israeli government as well as the US government's role as enabler.

Ms. Thomas, I am so sorry that things ended for you this way at UPI. You told the truth and voiced the frustrations of a lot of people. Not in the most tactful terms, granted, but that is the job of a journalist. Thank you for inspiring me as a junior high reporter, and now as I do my own e-mag. May this be a stepping stone to something bigger and better.

Is It Just Me, or is TV Going Backwards? Or, "Mooshy, Mooshy"

2010-06-04T13:01:00.000-07:00

Today's entry is dedicated to two of my role models, Bea Arthur, who passed nearly a year ago, and Rue McClanahan, who passed yesterday morning. Thanks, ladies.

   My tastes these days run more towards the classics. Some of it is a function of (cough, cough) age and nostalgia. A lot of it is delayed rebellion safely tucked into the corner of my psyche until safe to let it out, or why I look forward to my second cup of coffee with "Maude" in the morning. Mostly it's from a critical standpoint, both artistically and socially.
   I came of age in the 1970's, when feminism and social reforms seemed to point the way to a world based on progressive values. Shows like "Maude" and "Mary Tyler Moore" portrayed strongly drawn female leads. "Barney Miller" had a diverse cast in terms of race and age. "All in the Family" used humor to force viewers to look at racism.
   Except for Saturday nights at my sister's house, rare evenings at my grandparents', or when I snuck in episodes of the above with an ear peeled for my father's footsteps signaling his return from the neighborhood bar, I didn't get to watch those very often. Dad took any and everything about women finding their voices as a threat, and went berserk over anything remotely disrespectful to law enforcement officers. Anyone (read: me) who felt differently was horrible, disrespectful, disloyal and deserved to get dumped on other relatives. Never mind that his own father had been a cop with a record of, shall we say, not being as respectful towards suspects as some might think he should've been, even in the 1930's in a small New England town.
   We watched a lot of sports. All of the teams out of Detroit had a less than stellar decade, and no disagreement was to be had.
   Fast forward to today. As in this morning. I watched "Maude." The episode moved briskly, had fantastic dialog, and a good balance of wit and plausible absurdity. Maude's and Viviane's husbands had taken off on a fishing trip. Did they mope or sit around waiting? Hell, no. They got out the whipped cream and doughnuts while Walter and Arthur dealt with a rural New England sheriff who'd pulled them over for speeding, and the consequences of its escalation. They also fired off a few lines regarding racism (their cell mate was African-American).
   My question is what happened? Most shows are predominantly white and male, and female characters have reverted to a level of triviality and silliness not seen since the '60's. The reality genre disturbs me to no end because of it. "America's Next Top Model" makes it seem all about looks and little about hard work. "The Bachelor/ette" reinforces the old pattern that you're a loser if not married and gorgeous. There are more reality shows that glorify cute little sociopaths, and a psychologist interviewed on "Today" said that it made mean the new black. "Cougar Town" trivializes mature (allegedly) women. I could never watch "Sex and the City" or "Friends"because it seemed so geared towards shoes and who was coupled with whom that I just couldn't relate. "The Office" recently disappointed me because Pam abandoned her artistic aspirations to become just another victim of the mommy trap.
   "Roseanne" and "The Golden Girls" were two of the last sitcoms I really enjoyed watching. Strong, independent women with full lives took the leads, addressing social issues with their unique humor. Even though "Barney Miller" had all male detectives, the squad pointed to signs of progress through diversity. Linda Lavin was a detective for a few very early shows. But the women on there were treated respectfully.
   But now we have too many shows where women are sexualized and used as props. It's really sad when you look at "Star Trek: OS" and realize that even with the miniskirts and coffee toting and rubbing Captain Kirk's shoulders, it was a hint of what we hoped would come.

Hey, It's My 100th Post and We Come Full Circle

2010-06-03T13:35:00.000-07:00

   Yep. When I started this a year ago last winter, I wrote about ex-governor Rod Blagojevich. So, in the interest of completing the circle, let's put Palestine and BP aside for a moment and write about he who started it all.
   Jury selection started today. The judge is questioning the potential jurors one by one to see how badly the media blitz of the last year plus contaminated influenced them. Hopefully, the judge and the attorneys can agree on a total of eighteen (12 plus 6 alternates) to sit for the next four or so months.
   My big question: through the widespread protesting of his innocence to anyone who will listen, or can't get the remote to work fast enough, did he plant enough seeds of doubt to avoid a conviction, or did he make himself look like a bigger clown hat than he would have otherwise? David Letterman told the good ex-Gov. B. that when he saw him on other appearances, all he could think was "guilty, guilty, guilty."
   In this case, I'm inclined to agree.

These Things Bug Me, Tuesday Edition

2010-06-01T13:44:00.000-07:00

   (Stands up, brushes off mourning weeds.) So where do I start? Israel attacking a humanitarian supply ship with paratroopers and commandos, or the oil leak in the Gulf?
   Hmm. Both are just...what's the word? Wrong, wrong, WRONG.
   Well, let me start with the oil leak. What is BP getting out of this? And why hasn't President Obama taken any action? Attorney General Eric Holder should've been there at the start, not today. I'm not willing to buy the excuses for delays in making it stop. The relief wells could have been drilled by now instead of August. The really sad part is that it will be the franchised station owners and employees who suffer along with the people who rely on the Gulf for their livelihoods, not the suits who want punishment for this. I'm doubly p.o.'d at the administration--the word was "change." The word was "green." We've had more of the same.
   Even worse is the US supporting Israel and trying to sound neutral about yesterday's attack on a ship delivering humanitarian aid to the people of the Gaza Strip. How does Israel treating the Palistinians as the Nazis treated the Jews during WWII even things out? I'm out of patience with Israel. And still the US government supports them.
   I sent a comment to President Obama and told him he'd broken my heart. It seemed the most logical thing to do.

Orion's Crossing

2010-05-24T14:25:00.000-07:00

   It was dark, save for the glow of lavender candles, and it was quiet, save for the strains of classical music in the background.
   Saturday was a good day. Thanks to some sub-q fluids, Orion had rallied. The day before as the vet tech had instructed me, he suddenly raised his head as if calculating the trajectory from the exam table to the floor. He'd been alert, and he'd been engaged. The Spouse brought a garden cart, one of those wagons made to haul tools and what not. We put a bed in the back, and put Orion on the bed. The Spouse took him on a ride around the property line and up and down the road to the amusement and aggravation of motorists.
   Then came the crash. His gums and ears turned an odd putty-like color. We called the vet's emergency number. Two choices: go to the emergency vet hospital a good twenty to thirty minutes away and subject him to St. Francis knows what, or ride it out with him on his terms.
   We chose the latter. Let him lie in the grass until we all grew chilled, then made a pallet in the kitchen for him. We told stories of his volunteer days, of the grace that had lead us to one another, and the gratitude for the time that we'd had. We laughed. Rubbed his ears, told him he was a good boy.
   I sat with him. Let people know what was going on, asked for support. Felt it come in. Told him that I understood if he needed to go, although it saddened me to no end. Told him I'd be ok--his aunties and The Spouse would support me.
   Sometime in the darkest hours, he quietly crossed the Rainbow Bridge.
   When the sun came up, he looked as if he merely napped. The Spouse came downstairs. We patted him, blessed him. I did a sage smudge.
   At a quasi-decent hour, The Spouse gently placed him in the car. We took his body to the emergency clinic and made arrangements to have him cremated. The horrible final moment when the vet techs arrived at the service entrance with the cart. They offered condolences, gently lifted his body from the back seat, and gave us a moment for a last pat. We wished him Godspeed and God bless, and said goodbye, collapsing into each others' arms. Then we did the paperwork, accepted condolences from the front desk staff, and got on with the clear blue day.
   Profound sadness and many tears? Yes. Tempered, however, by a profound sense of gratitude for the time that we'd had together I hope I was as much a blessing to The Boy as he was to me.

Things That Are Bugging Me, Thursday Edition

2010-05-13T08:20:00.000-07:00

BP. Need I say more?

Maps from search engines. Yesterday, one of my friends held an open house memorial for her mother. I wanted to go, to support and to reconnect. Entered the two addresses in question. Followed the directions to the letter, and ended up in a different town after three laps through a subdivision. I have no clue what that was about. Pretty ride through some open country, though.

Orion turned up his nose at an egg that I gave him this morning. I've been giving him supplements to get him through this issue with his lymph glands, and now anything Mom made is suspect. Feh.

Major problems sleeping last night because of a pretty hefty t-storm that freaked Orion out. I spent the night on the sofa with him.

Elena Kegan's siding with the Bush administration about detainees.

It gets better tomorrow.

An Invitation

2010-05-05T08:25:00.000-07:00

At 1 p.m. this Sunday (also Mother's Day) central time, I'll be participating in an event started by Standing Women (http://standingwomen.org ). Please join me in five minutes of standing in peaceful prayer for children so that they may know a green, just, and peaceful world. Thanks.

As the Grateful Dead Put It...

2010-04-29T09:29:00.000-07:00

...Sometimes the light's all shining on me
Other times I can barely see
Lately it occurs to me
What a long strange trip it's been..."Truckin'" by the Grateful Dead

   For the last two weeks, I've been on deadline, getting Swan and Iris out. When I wasn't crunching that out, oh, holy crap, was I in hell. You know, the slice reserved for other people, that you walk through with them, but doesn't happen to you.
   Orion had a lump beneath his ear. Vet honest: at his age, lymphoma a very real threat. Not a good candidate for chemo between being 13 and having a heart murmur. Through my tears, I sobbed that if it were the worst case scenario, no treatment, keep him comfortable, and reevaluate as needed.
   The biopsy was inconclusive because of the inflammation, but the cells didn't clump together as they do in the presence of dark forces. His white cells were elevated, but all else seemed fine. He's on a course of antibiotics and some herbs to clean his lymph system out. I chose not to repeat the biopsy at the followup visit--he's been acting fine, eating, dragging me on two 45 minute walks a day. So I told her that I was satisfied that it was an infection, and that we would leave it go at that. There's been no change to the swellings. The herbs will just take time.
   For now, we choose to be in the moment, we choose to be at peace. We choose, too, potato chips. They're not just for breakfast anymore.

Choosing the Higher Path

2010-04-08T12:12:00.000-07:00

   Well, as I mentioned in my last post, I'm up on Facebook. So far, as I also mentioned, I finally was able to see what friends from other forums look like (all of you are quite gorgeous) and I was able to get a peek at some of my classmates from high school.
   One's thick blond hair had vacated the premises. It makes his eyes look bigger, and adds to his distinguished look. Another woman, who'd been kind and gentle and with a voice to make angels dance looked fabulous. Other had been beaten up by time, or their attempts to beat back time blew back on them. The meat jerky look brought on by over tanning is just not very attractive, is it?
   But there was one photo that caught my eye. I don't know what happened in the thirty plus years since she transferred to another school due to a prolonged strike senior year. I don't know if it was because she had been camping when the picture was taken, but the picture brought a vengeful smile to my lips. She had not been very nice to me, and she had been the leader of the popular girls cliqued since days at their elementary school in the part of town populated by executives from manufacturing plants.
   For about thirty seconds, I thought about sending something to the effect that she always had looked like five miles of bad road and now she looked as if she'd been dragged down it face first. The thought of the b-word crossed my mind.
   And then I thought again. She was, and will always be, less than worth it.
   I allowed myself an extra hair fluff and snarky grin the next time I went past a mirror.

Ok, I Surrender

2010-04-05T12:38:00.000-07:00

I'm up on FaceBook. Oh, I dragged my feet, oh I resisted. But it was futile.
And Godde help me, I'm having so much fun. I know what the charming people I chat with in forums look like. I've made some business connections. And just chatted with a friend in Arizona.
Maybe this technology thing isn't so bad after all.

Why Do People Give These Yahoos Money?

2010-03-25T18:56:00.000-07:00

   Oh, my, Godde. How...when...why? Another 200 survivors of abuse at the hands of Roman Catholic clergy have come to light, this time a group of boys who attended a residential school for the deaf.
   Why didn't the "good" (said snarkily) people at the Vatican do anything about it? There was an office set up to handle these matters, wasn't there? And Pope Benedict, wasn't he part of it?
   Yes, and it's looking more and more as if he used his post to cover allegations up as quickly and quietly as possible. Both when he was a cardinal and now as pope.
   Yes, this is the church that ran ads to coax the strayed back into the fold. This is the religion that enslaves women with the threat of hell for standing up for their reproductive rights; the one that pays lip service to the sanctity and dignity of human life.
   Right. Oh, did I mention that they blocked scientific progress by putting Galileo on trial and burning the astronomer who figured out that the earth rotates around the sun?
   But all that aside, they're crying persecution. Victims have filed civil suits, unable to get the justice deserved in criminal courts. After all, it was just a sin. Just because it caused long standing damage to the victims' souls doesn't mean it was anything otherwise.

Random Equinox Thoughts

2010-03-20T12:15:00.000-07:00

Listening to WNIJ for the Saturday Blues as I write.

Worked on the outline for my e-mag, Swan and Iris.

Been snowing and raining by turns, driven by a steady northwest wind. It's melting, but it's not how most people would choose to usher in spring. I really wanted to at least get the cold weather crops in, the spinach and the chard and the radishes. But it's ok. I have a chicken in the crock-pot with leeks, carrots, and celery. Will be ready about 6 or so. Yum.

Will likely get some seeds going in the nifty little peat pots, anyway.

It's called growth.

The Colonoscopy Broadcasting System

2010-03-11T09:03:00.000-08:00

   "We wanted to show viewers that a colonoscopy wasn't that bad," said one of the people at CBS News. "The Early Show" host Harry Smith volunteered to go live with his yesterday. Just what people want to see first thing in the morning: the insides of a large intestine.
   Let me see if I have this straight. You have to fast for the better part of a day, drink a gallon of a high-powered laxative, deal with its consequences, undergo general anesthesia, have a fiber optic camera stuck up an unspeakable place, and the general public is supposed to believe that it's "not that bad?"
   This is not something you do because you're 50.
   This is not something you do because a public figure has taken it up as a personal crusade due to experience. Ms. Couric, I tip my hat to you, and send belated condolences in reference to your late husband. But due to the invasive nature of the procedure, both physically and insurance-wise, it had best be considered carefully.
     The inconvenience, discomfort, tagging by insurance companies, and risks would be acceptable if someone had started showing disquieting symptoms (bleeding, constipation or diarrhea problems) or had a strong family history of colorectal cancer. It might be warranted under those circumstances.
   One friend of mine became severely dehydrated. An acquaintance who had end-stage pancreatic cancer was in the hospital. They insisted that she needed a colonoscopy, even though nothing could be done if beyond pallative measures had it spread there. It reeked of insurance money.
   Despite the serious consequences, the procedure has been the basis of plot lines on "Two and a Half Men," a show I tolerate for The Spouse's sake. I give the writers credit for making it funny.
   One also has to give credit to whoever thought up the Colonoscopy Sweepstakes, where CBS picked up the tab for one and for your stay at a swanky hotel in Manhattan. Being confined to a bathroom is just how I'd want to spend my time in one of the world's great cities.
   Paging Dr. Freud.

Ask Not For Whom the Guitar Swings; It Swings For Thee

2010-03-09T18:47:00.000-08:00

   Oh, I wish that I could be a grownup about this. But I can't. So I won't.
   This morning, I listened to Stephanie Miller (http://stephaniemiller.com ) on the way to walk Orion at the park. She reported on the latest political scandal involving an uber-Republican Congressional rep from California. After doing everything in his power to block passage of anything remotely in favor of equal rights for LGBTs, the rep in question was involuntarily outed. Seems that there was this little matter of a DUI as he was leaving the district's premier gay bar with a new (cough) friend.
   The choice to reveal one's orientation is highly personal and emotional. In a perfect world, there would be cake and champagne to validate and celebrate. I feel some compassion that the foot of fate booted him from the confines of the closet. However, it's tempered by his anti-gay anti-equality voting record. Some might say it's God's judgement. Other might say it's a slice of karmic pie for kowtowing to the party fringe. Freud called it a "reaction formation," where one has some component of themselves that they find so appalling that they go into total denial about having it, but see it everywhere in everyone else and make it a focal point for their self-hatred.
   I just hope he can learn to accept himself as he is. Had he the grace and courage to do that, he would have spared himself a lot of embarrassment and untold others a lot of pain.
   This may have been the first noteworthy scandal of the year, but I'll bet not the last. Last summer, we had Gov. Mark Sanford (R-one of the Carolinas and one of the Right Wing's darlings) who'd invented the cover story of hiking in the wilderness while actually leaving the country to visit his mistress in Argentina. Thoroughly ticked, his staff pretty much threw him to the press lions in the hall outside his office as tourists looked on so he could explain himself to the world. Jenny, his wife, skipped the festivities and moved out shortly afterwards.
   Will we have anything to top the resignation of an alderman in one of the O'Hare suburbs? Seems that there was this day when he invited two (cough) personal recreation consultants (cough) over to his house. While he (cough) received services from the consultants in the kids' playroom, his wife walked in on them. At a loss for words, Mrs. Alderman cold cocked him with a Hanna Montana toy guitar.
   I wait to see how that will be topped.

I'll Probably Go 4'x10' This Year

2010-03-02T12:15:00.000-08:00

The garden patch lies still and dormant under the ratty white blanket of snow.

We'll start shortly with chard, a hardy cold weather crop, in the pots by the back door. Then leaf lettuce and herbs. Then the holy grail of home gardening will take its rightful place:

   The tomato. Why we don't jump out windows during the winter. The real ones, not the pallid windshield-cracking denuded tennis balls that cause one to rethink objections to canned.
   The ones worthy of being savored with an optional sprinkling of salt. Tuck seedlings into fertilized ground and stand back except to water and pull weeds. We had them until mid-October last year, along with a glut of zucchini.
   Maybe we could get them to Thanksgiving this year.

Notes on the Seaworld Tragedy

2010-02-25T09:05:00.000-08:00

   Beings that weigh 12.3K pounds do not belong in captivity. Period. End of quotation.
   Remember that orcas are also known as killer whales. Notice the modifier, people: killer. Was this part of the Disney-fication of the world's oceans, thinking that a trainer could suddenly emerge from the water all healed and ready for the next trick? Please.
   I've not watched any of the reports, just the teasers. The networks have covered the story from every possible angle save one: the ethics of keeping these animals in captivity. Oh, it comes down to making money off of them. Excuse me. But no one will acknowledge this reality because it would cause the self-congratulatory entertainment industry to crumble, leaving people to do things like read and plant gardens and travel to destinations where free whales dwell.
   It's bad enough that the trainer lost her life to the batsh*ittery of it all, and that someone's daughter, sister or friend is no longer on this side of the vale. It's just as bad that both were exploited to that extent in the name of a buck.
   I like baths, but would not want to spend my life in the confines of my tub, even with the massaging jets and jasmine or lavender bubbles.   Even with the adoration of so many fans, the orca is not happy in captivity, people.