The Courage Campaign Needs Help

Just got this email from Rick Jacobs of the Courage Campaign--an organization that seeks marriage equality for ALL. Please read it, watch the fear-mongering ad put out by "the National Organization for Marriage" and contribute whatever you can to help counter this ridiculous, narrow-minded bigotry.


This TV Ad Makes Me Sick

Marriage equality is gaining momentum across America.

On Friday, the Iowa Supreme Court -- by a unanimous ruling -- made marriage equality the law of the land. Then the Vermont legislature overturned their Governor's veto of a marriage equality bill by a two-thirds margin on Tuesday.

And now the religious right is responding with a national TV ad filled with fear about a same-sex marriage "storm" gathering across the country.

This morning, the "National Organization for Marriage" launched a disturbing ad using actors to push lies claiming that marriage equalty threatens personal freedoms. The ad is going up on the airwaves across America -- eight times a day in California -- as NOM seeks to build what they are calling a "rainbow coalition" against equality.

We need your help to fight back right now against this deplorable ad. With many legal experts expecting the California Supreme Court to uphold Prop 8, our only option will be to place an initiative on the ballot to restore marriage equality. To repeal Prop 8, we will need to build a grassroots army for change in every county of California.

In response, the Dolby Family is challenging our community to raise $25,000 as a matching grant to fund Camp Courage trainings for marriage equality activists.

Can you help us respond to these lies and distortions by turning fear into hope? Watch this despicable TV ad now and then contribute to support more Camp Courage trainings by helping us meet this generous $25,000 matching grant from the Dolby Family -- thus doubling their amazing donation:

http://www.couragecampaign.org/TurnFearIntoHope

While NOM's TV ad uses actors to portray false victims, Camp Courage is mobilizing real people to speak from their heart, door-to-door across California.

While NOM's TV ad uses actors to portray false victims, Camp Courage is mobilizing real people to speak from their heart, door-to-door across California.

Modeled on the "Camp Obama" training events that helped propel President Obama into the White House, Camp Courage uses the "Story of Self" to transform personal experiences -- each participant's unique inspiration for supporting marriage equality -- into compelling and authentic narratives that can persuade undecided voters.

Here's what Sara P., a participant, said about Camp Courage Los Angeles:

"At any time throughout the day I could look around the room and see a smile on someone's face, a tear running down their cheek, and the wheels turning in their head. Every moment, you could look to your left and look to your right and know that you were sitting next to a fellow soldier, someone that will be, or is, in the trenches with you fighting in the name of justice. How powerful is that?"

To build a movement to push back on the right-wing's lies and fear-mongering, we need to train and empower more people like Sara. These transformative trainings have been held in L.A. and Fresno and now San Diego and the Bay Area are next. Meanwhile, we've also mobilized grassroots organizers to launch 23 Equality Teams and 13 canvass events across California, with teams going door-to-door to talk directly to voters.

Please turn fear into hope. Watch this TV ad right now and then do what you can to help us continue to build an army for marriage equality. Your contribution will help us double the Dolby Family's amazing donation and expand Camp Courage into more locations:

http://www.couragecampaign.org/TurnFearIntoHope

We've made history in Iowa and Vermont. Now let's fight the right to make marriage equality a reality again in California.

Rick Jacobs
Chair, Courage Campaign

.............

The Courage Campaign is an online organizing network that empowers more than 700,000 grassroots and netroots supporters to push for progressive change in California.

To power our campaign to repeal Prop 8, please chip in what you can today

One Game I Don't Want to Play

Today I am buying socks. Lots and lots of socks. Not for me--for the girls. These socks will probably all be one color and one size. Because half of their socks wind their way from the floor to the dog's mouth to his digestive tract to his ---well, you know by now--Hannah and Charlotte are no longer permitted to request a particular color or size or style.

No. Now I get to answer "But why can't I have pom poms on my socks??"

with

"Because Mommy is tired of playing "Guess what I found in the dog's poop this morning?!"

Random Question of the Week

Do you ever look up at the night sky and think, "Wow. I'm a part of that"?

"The Number Zero, Brought To You By The Party Of N-O"

ht: Sam Stein

Another Poop Story

By now you've probably seen the list of things that Kairos has eaten. There's no telling what else he's ingested that we missed.

After his breakfast this morning I took him out to go to the bathroom. The last couple of times he'd had a little bit of trouble making things work. He would assume the position and then just move his tail up and down, as if he were working an old-fashioned water pump. It was the same today: he just stood there, waiting, moving his tail up and down; waiting, moving his tail up and down some more.

Finally! There was a bit--a tiny poop. More of a nugget, really. He moved to a different patch and continued his efforts. The neighbor came out of his side gate, scaring Kairos, who spun around, sending a sock whipping from his butt.

Two days ago, I saw him throw up what looked like either a sock or a napkin. Before I could get to it, he swallowed it again. I hope that this was the sock that he just pooped out and that there isn't another one in there somewhere.

And I still don't know where or when he found the sock. I do know that, because some of the sock poop got stuck to him and he won't left me wipe it off and he keeps trying to wipe it on the floor, I'm going to have the groomers shave his butt today.

Overheard in a Coffee Shop

The guy sitting at the table behind me was trying to set up a web account. He had apparently already paid for the account, but hadn't yet received a confirmation email, so he called customer service.

After a few minutes on the phone, he uttered one of the funniest things I've heard in a long time:

"Yeah, you're right. I guess "butt smoke" is too obvious a password."

Thanks for the laugh, dude!

Suicide By Sock

Kairos is one of the happiest dogs I've met. He's so excited to see people, whether a new acquaintance or an old friend, that he pees on them. Or on the ground at their feet. His tail is almost always wagging, occasionally even while he sleeps. Which makes it that much more difficult to understand why he seems intent on killing himself. With a sock. Or a headband. Or anything else that he can ingest that stands a good chance of blocking or wrapping itself around his intestines.

To date, the tally stands at:

1. Fabric square from Hannah's Knot-a-Quilt kit: Forcibly removed before it went all the way down). Cost: one fabric square from Hannah's Knot-a-Quilt set and pierced eardrums when Hannah realized that we were going to throw away said fabric square.
   
2. Fabric headband: Induced vomiting at the vet. Cost: two sets of X-rays, a full day stay, whatever medicine they used to make him vomit. Probably peroxide (see below). Cost: $600
3. Sock: Induced vomiting at home. Cost: one tablespoon of peroxide (at the vet's instruction) and a roll of paper towels to mop up.
4. Fabric headband: Induced vomiting at home. Cost: another tablespoon of peroxide, a roll of paper towels and having to listen to Hannah crying that that was her absolutely, positively most favorite headband and why can't she keep it. (She changed her mind after I took the limp, soggy, dog-food-smelling scrap of pink and silver headband out of the trash for her inspection.)
5. Sock: Vomiting. He did this one on his own. Cost: A roll of paper towels, plus Thomas had to get up in the middle of the night to clean up the mess.
6. Sock: Forcible extraction. I got it before it went down, but only because he was wearing a muzzle and I think that prevented him from swallowing it.
7. Small cloth doll: Forcible extraction. Cost: temper and nerves.
   
8. Ribbon--the one the vet used to tie on his post-op cone: It went all the way through. Cost: Ew, yuck, he had a ribbon hanging from his butt. (Hannah: Did you get it? I wanted that pretty blue ribbon. Me: It's not blue any more, sweetie.)
9. String from a rope toy: Also passed through on its own. Cost: none.
   
10. Sock: Still waiting for him to vomit it up. Cost: One tablespoon of peroxide and an "Oh my god--you're going right back to the breeder!"
    

I've been doing a little poking around and some of the tips I've found include:

1. Obviously, putting all of the socks away, which we're all getting better about, but he grabbed the second headband while we were playing in the back yard, a mere five seconds after it fell from Hannah's head.
   
2. Putting cayenne pepper or bitter apple on a sock that you leave out intentionally. The trainer did not recommend this.
   
3. Give them a toy-but NOT a treat--in exchange for the sock--but this assumes that you actually see them before the sock goes in all the way.
   
4. More exercise. In the beginning this would have made sense, because poor Kairos was pretty much confined to the house and yard until he had all of his shots. But either that's not the answer for him or it's just become a habit. He gets lots of exercise now and still, many things other than food must be eaten.
   

UPDATE:

The sock exited the dog, using the back door. No complications. No $600 vet bill. Whew!

Pica–noun Pathology.

an abnormal appetite or craving for substances that are not fit to eat, as chalk or clay, common in malnutrition, pregnancy, etc. Dictionary.com Unabridged Based on the Random House Dictionary, © Random House, Inc. 2009.

---

Things I Never Imagined I’d Say

Hannah please don’t put the chickens down the slide again! And NO she does not want a ride in the swing again, either.

Charlotte—DO NOT wash your hands with that toothbrush!

Charlotte! Toothpaste! NOT the soap!

Whatever that is DO NOT put it in your mouth!

Jesus Edith! There’s a ribbon sticking out of the dog’s butt.

Feel free to add your own!

Update on Hannah's Art Contest Entry

Hannah's Poppy earned an Honorable Mention at the art contest sponsored by the Loma Prieta District Womens' Club and one of the judges said that she would like to buy it when Hannah has her first gallery show!

Reminder: Hannah is six.

She literally glowed when her teacher gave her the news.

I guess I'd better get started on transforming my plant room into an art studio for the girls.

A Paean to Citi--Well, Maybe Not

The New F***ing Citibank - watch more funny videos

The Dammit

First one of 2009! How, you must be asking, did I manage to go this long without finding something to be outraged about? Well, that gives us

Dammit #1:
I'm lazy. Well, feeling lazy, anyway. I just sent out invoices that should have gone two weeks ago (shut up, Thomas!). I've been dithering on a book proposal. There's a pile of laundry in my room that needs to be folded. The front garden is a mess (most wouldn't think so, but I'm usually a bit anal about it). Usually these would be signs of creeping depression, but now my brain is just tired. And feeling lazy.

Dammit #2:
R u s h L i m b a u g h. He calls women hos and femanazis; says that women work because they're unattractive and don't have alternative options for meeting people (men). He's loud and rude and crass. And yet he wonders why women don't like him. He has republican party bigwigs cowering at his feet and kissing the ring. He actually had the gall to invite the president of the US to debate him on the issues. Obama has more important things to thing about than a bloated talking head who thinks of no one but himself, but R u s h isn't not stupid; even this futile invite serves his purpose: Obama won't take the bait, leaving R u s h with the ability to say that Obama was afraid to come on his little show and "face" the 20 million, mostly male, listeners.

Dammit #3:
Bernie Madoff's portrait didn't go at auction. I expected that someone would have thought 100k a small price to pay for a large, sneering dartboard. Oh, wait: no one had any money left to pay for it. And he's just not worth the jail sentence one might get for slashing it. Not that I'm recommending that. Really.

Dammit #4:
I'm not ready to be 40.

Hannah Takes First Prize!

Hannah's Poppy took first prize for her age group in an art contest sponsored by the Woman's Club of Palo Alto this weekend:


The winners advance to the district competition on March 9.

Inadvertently Inappropriate, part II B

Charlotte's new favorite movie is Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. The movie is cute so I don't mind that I've already seen it 10 times (I'm not listing the real number here as I don't want you to think that my children watch television all day). The problem arises, again, from her inability to make certain sounds--"ak," for example--and her need to add an "a" at the end of many words and often, mid-word.

Yesterday afternoon we were at Peet's (yes, again!) and Charlotte said she wanted to watch "Chadee a Chocit F u c k a de tee."

Much more of this and I might have to switch my office to the other Palo Alto Peet's.

Hannah's Gallery

I'm making up for lost time: there are new posts up on Hannah's Gallery.

Inadvertently Inappropriate, part II

1. Hannah, on seeing a photo of a model:

Mommy, why is her skirt all the way up to her vagina?

Why indeed, peanut.


2. Charlotte, still unable to pronounce the blended sound, "ow":

Mommy! You c[o]unt! You c[o]unt! One, two, three . . . .

Her speech therapist didn't understand at first why I thought this an important thing to work on. But once I told her that this had been yelled at me in a crowded store and in a coffee shop, she figured it out.

Little Slices of Heaven

For Charlotte, it's Disneyland:




For Hannah, it's her art (well, Disneyland, too):

Kairos

Just a little sketch Hannah whipped out this morning. And by "whipped out," I mean "in under two minutes."

Hannah's Gallery

I've finally updated Hannah's Art Gallery.

There are three new posts, covering 2008 (a small sample) through this week.

Stroll through and remind yourself that she's only six.

Random Request

Let's say that you're waiting in line at your local coffee shop.

Emphasis on "Coffee Shop."

It is not a pharmacy. HIPAA does not apply. The person in front of you is not giving out sensitive information and, in most cases, will not mind if you overhear an order for a nonfat soy double latte, or anything else on the menu.

It's a coffee shop, not a bank. You do not need to stay behind some invisible line and wait until the Next Available waves you over.

Rather than force the line behind you out the door, please, move up. Really, it's OK. And if someone gives you trouble, tell them to talk to me. Especially if I'm waiting, un-caffeinated, in a cold rain.

My New Favorite Photo

25 Random Things--The Cheat Post

What follows is from my favorite chain-esque mail of all time. This is possibly not a very good description, as I detest chain email to the point where I am certain to spend eternity in hell, or at least be hit by a bus tomorrow, because I refuse to forward these letters. But this one was fun and a great way to learn random things about people I've known for years. In two cases I learned things about women I've know for most of my life.

So my responses to this I-only-saw-it-on-Facebook chain was going to be my post for the day (well, yesterday, if I'm being honest; I never got around to posting it), but then I saw that Dan Zak also received it and then used it for a column in today's Washington Post. His is way funnier--and he was paid for it!--but this is mine:

Rules: Once you've been tagged, write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you.

At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you.

25) I am afraid of spiders.
24) I once passed out when my brother dropped a plastic spider on my shoulder.
23) I am a chocoholic who is allergic to chocolate. Fortunately it is a mild allergy.
22) I would like to live in Europe for a year or so.
21) I am equally afraid of success and failure.
20) I didn’t get my first cavity until I was 30.
19) My favorite TV show is House.
18) I once went an entire year without watching TV.
17) My favorite TV show is The Daily Show. (Yes, I know. Two favorites)
16) I can’t watch psychological thrillers.
15) I also can’t watch horror movies.
14) In the year before my mother died, I spoke to her for a grand total of three minutes.
13) I suck at math.
12) Sometimes I still wake up from nightmares about waiting tables.
11) If I can see the entire plot line of a show in the first two minutes I can’t watch it.
10) I love the type of friends you can go for years without seeing and then pick up where you left off.
9) Unmedicated, I am painfully shy. Medicated, I sometimes still am.
8) Politically I lean very hard to the left, but I never vote based on party affiliation.
7) Give me a pint of ice cream with any sort of chocolate chunk, chip or ribbon and I will do a little mining to remove all of those chocolate bits.
6) I hate these lists. [[Update: obviously not true]]
5) I have started getting up at 5:00 two days a week. This is perhaps more shocking to me than it will be to you. (Depending on how well you know me, of course.)
4) I’m a writer and almost (REDACTED) years old, but have only recently figured out the mysteries of the semi-colon.
3) I like my in-laws more than my own parents (see #14).
2) I detest having my photo taken.
1) I hope I have 25 people to send this to.

And There Goes the Neighborhood?

Now that Kairos has finally had all of his shots, Charlotte and I were able to take him for a walk yesterday morning. We were three blocks from the house when I found what looked like a small bag of cocaine.

Cocaine. In a little baggie. Just sitting there, next to the telephone pole between the sidewalk and road, on the only patch of grass that was covered in the yellow oxalis that Charlotte likes to pick.

Kairos found the bag first and I barely managed to get it away before it ended up the same way as a few other things he's put in his mouth--slimy, $600 vomit on the floor of the vets' office (though in this case it would probably have been a bit more expensive).

Because I forgot to bring my phone and I didn't want to just leave the baggie there for another dog--or little kid--to find, I scooped it up in a poop bag and took it to the police department.

One might think that the possibility of drugs appearing on a street in a quiet neighborhood might excite a little attention, but in this case you would be wrong. I sat in the police station for 45 minutes before anyone came to take the bag. The receptionist only wanted my name, address, phone number and where I found the bag.

When she finally appeared, the detective only wanted my name, address, drivers license number, phone number, cell phone number, where I found the bag, and then the bag itself.

Next time I'm just going to call and let them come to me. Not that I want there to be a next time, of course. But then, there's always Weeds.

Yes, I Can!

While I am certain that the following is not what our new, and much beloved, President had in mind when he first (or last, even) spoke the words "Yes, we can!" here is a short list of non-political things I learned on Inauguration day:

1. I CAN stand in a jam-packed Metro station for an hour and a half without having an anxiety attack or getting frustrated or angry.
2. I CAN stand for hours in below-freezing weather, hopping around to avoid the knife's edge that called itself the wind and to spare my toes the threat of frostbite; and bobbing my head side to side to get a better view of the jumbo tron.
3. When absolutely necessary I CAN tell absolute strangers in the 5'9" and over set that they have strayed into the Short People Section and that they will have to move on. NOW.
4. I CAN go more than 13 hours without eating or drinking or peeing.
   
5. I CAN, when circumstances compel, swallow my own vomit. A little explanation is probably in order: My friend, Sharon, and I got up very early to leave for the Inauguration. As it didn't occur to me that I might not get anything to eat for hours, I took my several medications on an empty stomach, rode in the back seat of a car on a winding road, and then bounced around in a hot, crowded Metro car. Although Sharon offered me her newspaper to throw up on and the man in front of me encouraged me to "just let it out--they have people to clean that up," I couldn't bring myself to do it. And it wasn't just because I was too embarrassed (though there was that), but the thought of some other happy Inauguration-goer stepping on to the train and into that--well I just couldn't do it.
   

Random Question of the Week

The serving size for ice cream is listed as ½-cup. Is that calculated using:

1. The amount of ice cream that comfortably fits into the ½-cup (i.e.: loosely scooped);
2. The amount of ice cream you can force into the ½-cup; or
3. The amount of melted ice cream that fits into the ½-cup?

Interesting Fact of the Day

Australian researchers found that mixing liquor with diet drinks can intensify the alcoholic effect by 50%.

(Source: Womens Health)

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Mall

You've seen, on television and in the paper and everywhere online, the crowds that packed the National Mall, waiting for Barack Obama to be sworn in as the 44nd President. None of those people drove to the Mall. A few were dropped off by limo or taxi. Many of them walked. But many more arrived by Metro, Washington D.C.'s subway system.

My friend Sharon and I took the Metro in from her home in Bethesda, MD. Because her stop is almost at the end of the line, the cars were relatively empty when we boarded. But by the time we transferred to the correct line, the trains were full, and when we finally reached our station, the cars were packed so tightly that you didn't actually need to put your feet on the ground.

It took us 40 minutes to get from Bethesda to the L'Enfant station. It took another hour to get from the train door to the street:






The funny part? No one was angry. Some were afraid that they might miss everything. Some were pushing, but only because they were being pushed and had no choice. But everyone apologized for pushing and made sure no one pushed or knocked over the little kids. But no one was angry about being stuck underground for so long with no idea when we were going to be set free. We just laughed and chanted "Let my people go" and "Yes We Did" when we finally moved toward the gates.

Of course there were a few other, less polite, chants:

Inauguration 2009--The View From The Mall, Part I

I wanted to capture a little of what it sounded like to those of us on the Mall. The echo was at first annoying but came to feel appropriate, as a voice ringing down the halls of history ought to sound and feel.

A Note About the Inauguration

Can't post photos yet, but a note:

This was the happiest crowd of people I have ever seen. Patient. Joyous. Singing. Chanting. Laughing.

Two million people and not a single Inauguration-related arrest.

Two million people and not a frown in sight.

I've loved being here and I love this day!

Let the Inauguration Begin!

Well, tomorrow anyway.

Hannah is a Brilliant Artist--and Only Six

The Convergance of Life, Politics and Family

I am going to Barack Obama's Inauguration

I'll probably have to walk two miles to get there.

I have no ticket to the swearing in.

I have no guarantee of a spot on the parade route.

I don't have an invite to a ball, or a party of any type.

I'm not sure I even have a coat warm enough for the East coast weather.

But when I allow myself to believe it, I am, for the first time in a very long time, gloriously and incandescently happy.

Because I am going to Obama's Inauguration.



As an added bonus, I am going to DC alone, which means six hours on a plane by myself. And six more on the way back. Very happy indeed.

Vice Presidential Handlers Lure Cheney Into Traveling Crate

From The Onion:

Vice Presidential Handlers Lure Cheney Into Traveling Crate


January 13, 2009 | Issue 45•03

WASHINGTON—A team of nine specially trained handlers have successfully lured outgoing vice president Dick Cheney into a reinforced steel traveling crate in order to transport him back to his permanent enclosure in Casper, WY, official sources reported Monday. "He's a smart one. Once he sees the crate, he gets pretty nippy, but we've learned a few tricks over the years," chief VP wrangler Ted Irving breathlessly said while applying pressure to a deep gash on his forearm. "If we break a rabbit's legs and throw it in there, he will eventually go in to finish it off. Doesn't work with dead rabbits, though. Cheney only eats what he kills." Irving said that the latest vice presidential relocation went much more smoothly than September's diplomatic trip to Georgia, which was delayed for several hours after Cheney mauled three secret service agents and escaped inside the White House walls.

HT: Thomas :) Thanks for the laugh!

Glacier National Park in Summer

Until I'm feeling more like myself, I thought I'd share a few of the photos from our road trip last summer.

Thomas and the girls walking up the glacier at Logan Pass:





Wildlife in the parking lot:


The reason it looks so close isn't because the zoom on my camera is working better, but because I took the photo from the door of the minivan. Into which I leapt to avoid the horns.

12 Days of Christmas Reinterpreted

Because it gave me a much-needed laugh . . .

Inadvertently Inappropriate

1. Me, playing with the puppy:
"Hey little man! Where are your balls? Get your balls!"

2. Hannah playing with the puppy:
"Oh, how sweet! He's hugging my leg! And dancing!"
No, Hannah. He's neither hugging nor dancing.

3. Charlotte in the theater at Hannah's school performance. Every time the lights were dimmed, she shouted:
"Ooooh, dark-y!"
The inappropriate part was that, the first time she yelled it was after the first act. The lead dancer, one of the most talented kids in the K-2 program, also happens to be African American. Fortunately, speech therapy continues.

4. Hannah, after climbing onto my lap:
"What do you have in your pants?"
"I'm sorry, what?"
"What do you have in your pants that's crunchy?"
uh . . .
"Oh! No! That's a (dog) poop bag in my sweatshirt pocket!"

Yes. I leave you for a week, and this is what you come back to.

How They Grow

I was all ready to send a friend over to see photos of the girls when I realized that I hadn't posted any recently. So . . .

Hannah is smiling here because I told her to. Normally we have no trouble getting her to mug for the camera. In fact, we generally have to tell her to knock it off please, so we can get a nice photo for Grandma.:)

A Peet's girl from her infancy.

Charlotte's favorite show is Mickey Mouse Playhouse, and you simply must have the Minnie Mouse costume in order to properly execute the hot dog dance.

Charlotte sick and looking unbearably fragile. She is, of course, anything but.

When Puppies Attack

I introduced Kairos to the camera today. Unfortunately he's still at the stage where he eats everything first and then asks if it's actually edible.

He is the Very Model of a Modern . . . Golden Doodle

The new puppy, Kairos, has settled right in and is quickly proving himself a member of the family: He's very fond of gadgets and gizmos, particularly if they have lights, make noise or--most importantly--have cords. He's also taken a liking to my computer and even offered to help out with work while I'm sick, the licking and pawing of the keyboard a lovely, modern twist on "the dog ate my homework."





(My apologies for the poor quality photo--it's from my iPhone. Not bad for a phone, but not great for publishing.)

Hannah-isms

Thomas recently had an on-camera interview for a short documentary about urban chicken farming. Due to a misunderstanding on my part, Hannah and Charlotte were told that they might be interviewed as well. And because Hannah has yet to meet the camera unworthy of her adoration, she was very excited.

So when a friend asked Hannah how the interview had gone, she replied:

“Really it was boring. Charlotte and I had nothing to do. It was all about my dad. You know he used to be a magician, so why couldn’t they be doing that? That's way more exciting.”



On hearing that Thomas was going to get his hair cut short:

“Now he’ll look like a normal dad!”



Our school's PTA sponsored an art contest as part of a program run by the CA PTA. I had mentioned it to Hannah several times, but she was uninterested—until the night before the piece had to be turned in. She spent seven minutes whipping out a portrait—not bad for seven minutes, but not really suitable for submission, even to a contest with the ridiculously ambiguous “Wow!” theme. So I asked . . .

“What about this will make someone think “Wow!”?

(Exasperated sigh.)

“Um, my talent?”

Even My First Grader Gets It

From one of the books that Hannah made in class. The teacher didn't even have to tell her how to spell "Obama" or "President."





It's from my phone, so it's not the best image, but the text is: "America is Obama is our 44 President."

Moving On

I found Argus' collar this weekend. I was cleaning the plant room and didn't see it right away. I should have because it's red. And yes, it has lots of shiny tags on it. Yes, it jingled when I picked it up. Yes, that sound made me weep.

It seems ridiculous to me that I obviously haven't moved past this. I don't cry about my mother, and haven't since she died. But someone on the outer reaches of our neighborhood has a Great Dane. She was walking him down the street. I was cooking dinner. I heard that bark and my first thought was, "Oh no! I left the dog outside!" In the same moment I realized that it couldn't possibly be Argus, I snapped off the stove, threw down the potholder and dashed out the door.

She must have thought me a little crazy, running barefoot across the street as I did. Trying to hide the tears as I touched my forehead to his; as I dug my hands into his fur--that spot right behind the ear that always worked for Argus, and probably every other dog. She and I talked a bit. The dog was a rescue she'd had for a year. He was taller than Argus and a Blue. Sweet, with the classic Great Dane temperament. His eyes were green, which I wasn't expecting, and from his lines and the way he carried himself, I would guess he was a purebred.

But I found myself, well, finding fault. He wasn't as handsome as Argus. He was too tall. He was too thin. His eyes were too close together.

The truth is, he wasn't Argus.

More than a month passed and there I was. Sitting in a flowered chair surrounded by rescued poinsettias, overgrown aloe, scraggly ivy, the Christmas cactus that always blooms at Easter and Thanksgiving and a few other plants whose names I forget. Staring at the collar in my hand, the doggy smell slightly sour and faded. Turning the tags through my fingers, noticing that we never updated his address from Campbell to Redwood City. Wondering if I’d had his lo-jak deactivated. Wondering why this silly dog can still turn me into a puddle of tears.

We’re going to pick up our new puppy on Saturday, a Golden Doodle. Thomas didn’t think another Great Dane was a good idea since they’re not really what you’d call “portable.” The girls are really excited and have made a Puppy Countdown calendar. Thomas has already re-read all of the puppy books—there’s so much you forget in eight years. Me? I’m still crying over Argus and wondering how in the world I’m ever going to love another dog that much.

I know I will. I’m just not convinced that this is the right time. Which is completely beside the point because 1) I’m outnumbered, and 2) they’re pretty darn cute puppies.

Time to Think About Other Things

Between Argus dying, my mother dying five days later, the school year starting, work, the election and pretending to work on my book, I never got around to posting any photos from our trip to Canada this summer. This is one of my favorites--Moraine Lake in Banff National Park, Alberta.

Joe-the-Jackass, Update

No. No they did not. No one told Joe that his 15 minutes were up. No one told him that he needed to go home, pay his taxes and do something about the fact that he is not a licensed plumber. Nor did they remind him that he is not a foreign--or domestic--policy expert, either.

Rather, someone convinced him that his was an excellent story. That he should write a book. That he should say he was going with a small publishing house out of the goodness of his heart and not because the medium, larger and probably most of the smaller houses, are still laughing at the very idea.

Joe emerged from obscurity during the middle of the third presidential debate, on October 15, 2008. His book is going to be released December 1. Yes, that's December 1 of 2008. Apparently Joe and his publisher are putting as much effort into the writing, fact checking and editing as the McCain campaign put into vetting the Palin and Joe himself.

I wish I could say that it would flop; that it would hit the remainders table ten minutes after it reached the stores. But other than the absolute right guy being elected, nothing seems to makes sense this year. So all I can do is applaud any and every publishing house who turned them down and weep with shame for the one who didn't.

Keith Olbermann "Gay Marriage is a Question of Love"

Keith Olbermann tonight on California's Prop 8. Very moving. Very Surprising. Please watch it, share it with your friends and hope this isn't over yet.

A Little Something About Rahm Emanuel

In case you were wondering what all the fuss was about:




HT: DailyKos

Random Shout and Question of the Week

If I see one more pundit pull out their list of probable candidates for 2012 I am going to throw something.

Given the likelihood that a boot will, in fact, be smacked into a talking head, is the television covered by homeowners' insurance?

Happy Happy Joy Joy

I Am a Dork

I've cried three times already today:

1. My friend Barry waited in line for two hours to vote this morning, as have thousands upon thousands of others.
2. 35,000 people were at an Obama rally in Leesburg, VA two weeks ago. Yesterday there were 90,000 at a rally in Manassas, VA and huge rallies in Richmond and Virginia Beach. If you grew up in Virginia you understand how truly amazing this is. Not exactly your typical Democrat strongholds. I grew up near Charlottesville, VA in a town that was 90 percent segregated. One side was literally called "Browntown."
3. There were many, many people out protesting California's Prop 8 today.
   

The hope I've been strangling for months is seeping out and I'm almost ready to stop fighting it.

REMINDER: OPERATION WAKE UP CALL

Complacency kills.

One would think that a couple of tight elections would make people realize that, yes, their vote actually does count. Think you live in a solidly red or solidly blue state? Look at the polls right now. Even if you don't follow these things, you have to at least notice the shock that Montana is in play! That Arizona is close! That Virginia is contested!

And yet still we hear "I'm not going to vote. It doesn't matter. My state is a done deal."

Really? What if everyone woke up on Tuesday and decided, somewhere between coffee, getting the kids to school and going to work, that they really didn't need to vote, either. Too much trouble. Lines too long. It's raining. No one will notice one little ballot, right?

Imagine that one little* ballot. Feel how light it is. Barely worth the mention. Now imagine another 50 or 72 or 167 or 502 stacked on top of that one little ballot. Still think it doesn't matter?

A couple of months ago I announced Operation Wake Up Call and it's time for a reminder:

On Tuesday, please get up early. Call everyone in your address book. Email them. Text or Tweet them. Poke them through Facebook. Whoever you think might need a little nudge to get to the polls. Especially if they were already planning to vote for Obama.


* Little is, of course, a relative term :)

Random Question of the Week

When will Joe the Unlicensed Plumber reach the end of his 15 minutes? Or will we have to keep hearing from this uninformed jackass through November 5, when he's called upon to offer his "analysis" of the republican implosion?

California's Prop 8

This year a conservative group of Californians--with an assist from religious groups across the US--is again pushing for a Constitutional Amendment to define marriage as "one man, one woman." This is a cheat blog post, adapted from a letter I recently sent to the San Jose Mercury News*:


One of the reasons frequently cited in support of Prop 8 is that marriage was intended for procreation and should, therefore, be limited to one man, one woman.

Putting aside for the moment what is in essence a demand for state sanctioning of a religious belief (for marriage is not, in fact, a biological imperative), passage of Prop 8 would bring up several other ridiculous questions, among them: 1) Would we refuse to allow the marriage or remarriage of women who have passed their reproductive years? 2) Will men be allowed to marry once they have reached the age at which their sperm begins to degrade? 3) Will those who are unlikely to live to see their children reach adulthood be allowed to marry?

I would far rather my children learn to respect people and their relationships, regardless of the age, race or gender of the couple, than to be taught the intolerance, fear and bigotry that Prop 8 supporters seek to write into law.


* The letter was not printed.

JESUS EDITH--DECIDE ALREADY!

20 months. 26 debates before the party conventions, plus three debates between Obama and McCain. The result? Two candidates with vastly different beliefs, not to mention radically different approaches to conducting their campaigns and their response to the economic crisis.

We've heard their views on, among other things:

• the economy
• education
• the war in Iraq
• defense
• veterans affairs
• civil rights
  
• foreign policy
  
• the Middle East Peace process
  
• health care
  
• energy
• the environment
  
• immigration

Clear differences on all of these issues. And if I hear one more person say they're waiting to hear that one thing they haven't heard yet that they can't identify but they'll know it when they hear it, I am going to scream.

Actually, I'm going to scream right now. Penny, cover your ears:


YOU HAVE TWO WEEKS LEFT. THEY'VE BEEN AT THIS FOR ALMOST TWO YEARS. GET OFF THE FUCKING FENCE AND CHOOSE A CANDIDATE.

THE ROBO-CALLING WILL STOP WHEN THERE ARE NO MORE PEOPLE TO CONVINCE.*


*pipe-dream?

Obama at the Al Smith Dinner in NY

Hilarious and well worth the 10.5 minutes.






This is a re-post as the first version was no longer available.

Choice?

The entirely too-cynical me thinks the video may not be a real victim. But doesn't change the fact that Sarah Palin believes that if a rape results in a pregnancy, the victim should have to carry to term.

No one is pro-abortion. But no one should have to carry a rapist's child to term, either.

Please share this.


UPDATE: In case I wasn't exactly clear about the "no one is pro-abortion" what I meant was that, while everyone would prefer to see fewer abortions, only the woman involved should make the decision as to whether or not to carry to term. That's an entirely private matter in which neither Sarah Palin, nor the courts, nor or anyone else has any right to be involved, unless the woman in question so chooses.

John Cleese On Sarah Palin: Monty Python Could Have Written This

From seesmic.com via BoingBoing.

Thanks for the effort-free post, Thomas!

Bonus Dammit

When I picked up my Obama/Biden yard sign this afternoon, the usual "Thanks! We're going to do this!" was followed almost immediately by "Good luck keeping it in your yard."

The Dammit, #31

I've been busy with work and the book lately, so some of this is old-ish, but Dammits there must be!

Dammit #1:
A couple of weeks ago, Gwendomama informed me that the account for the Palin Baby Name Generator had been suspended. Big rude Dammit.

Dammit #2:
The first time I attempted to type those words (above), my computer locked up after "Palin Baby Name Generator." I couldn't even force quit Firefox; I had to shut down and start over.

Dammit #3:
Charlotte goes to school in Palo Alto twice a week from 9-12:00. If I went home after dropping her off, I'd lose an hour of work time between the trip home and back again. So instead, I go to the Peet's two blocks from her school and work there. That's not the Dammit.

Every Thursday and many, many Tuesdays, a group of people from a local gym comes in to chat, drink coffee and hang out for an hour or so. That's not the Dammit, either.

The first to arrive is the lone guy, probably in his mid-fifties, in relatively good shape. Which one is forced to note because he wears very tight spandex (no, not redundant in this case) with a short jacket. That would be the Dammit.

The only good thing about this guy is that I am reminded of one of my all-time favorite TV moments: Will and Jack (of Will & Grace) are sunning themselves on the deck of Karen's yacht. Karen walks by, stops:

"Will--two things . . . "

"Yes?"

"When you sit like that I can see your man-berries."


Dammit #4:
The squirrels are going crazy this year. They have dotted my lawn with divots, tucking an acorn into each. When I mow the lawn, they scream at me from the fence and the trees. They aren't at all shy about coming into the yard or sitting on the play structure, glaring as I do the pruning, weeding and edging; and think next to nothing of it when I walk toward--or run at--them.

Hopefully the Farmers' Almanac is right about increased squirrel activity being a sign of a bad (wet) winter.

Dammit #5:
Speaking of winter: I had to turn on the heat this morning. Only for an hour or so, but still—I had to turn on the heat. And to think only a couple of months ago I was wondering if the summer would ever end.

MORE Randomness

Because I have too much going on for a real post:

Has anyone else noticed that, now that McCain/Pain (no, not a typo) is doing so very poorly, their campaign seems to think it's time not only for the boots to go on and the gloves off, but that it's time for the Palin to put on the bitch boots AND let down the hair? Looks a little sexier, no? Maybe part of the reason that her approval numbers are still high (relatively speaking) among men.

Hopefully the McCain campaign has given up the woman vote now that they've realized that our ovaries are smarter than they are.

Random Thought to Begin the Week

If by some twist of cosmic insanity McCain/Pain wins the election, perhaps Starbucks will be good enough to start printing foreign policy tidbits on its cups so that the Palin can at least try to get it right.

I Still Heart Joe Biden

And that's all I have to say about that.





Oh, except that I still . . . . um . . . don't heart the Palin ("abhor" is such a harsh word, no?)

National Security Mom--a Review

I was fortunate enough to receive early galleys for a new book by Gina M. Bennett, a 20-year veteran of the US Intelligence Community and mother of five children. National Security Mom: Why “Going Soft” Will Make America Strong takes the complicated issues involved in our national security, particularly in the “post 9/11 world,” and distills them into easily digestible pieces. The book’s unique twist is how Ms. Bennett relates the issues of national security to what goes on in a typical family. That the values that we learned as children and, as parents, are instilling in our own children, are the very same values needed to run government and handle some of the complex issues involved in national security, such as:

• Tell the truth
• If you make the mess, you clean it up
• Don’t give in to a bully
• Choose your friends wisely
• Learn from your mistakes

And of course, the job description for parents also requires an in-depth knowledge of issues such as crisis management, conflict resolution, budgeting and diplomacy.

So why aren’t there more women in government? On paper, many women—especially mothers—are uniquely suited to participating in government, on whatever level they choose. There are of course other qualifications that must be met—particularly for higher office—but there should be more women serving on city counsels, as mayors, as governors and in Congress. Ms. Bennett pulls this telling statistic from the Center for American Women and Politics at Rutgers University:

“In 2008 women hold only 16.3% of the seats in Congress; 16% of the Senate seats; 23.5% of the statewide elective executive offices across the country; 23.7% of the state legislative positions; and of the mayors of the hundred largest cities in America, only eleven are women.”

She also notes that “We can blame history, the educational system, men, and many other underlying factors for why this is the case. But we also have to ask ourselves whether our disengagement perpetuates the myth that men are somehow more naturally suited to govern.”

Sure, some days we barely have time to do the laundry and the grocery shopping—where on earth are we going to find time to volunteer at our child’s school, much less to run for elected office? I work from home part-time and have only been able to volunteer in my daughter’s classroom once. And she’s in first grade, so that’s two years of not being able to find the time.


Because we are living in the “post 9/11 world,” Ms. Bennett tackles some of the larger questions that relate directly to her argument that more women, more mothers should be in government:
• How much personal freedom are we willing to give up in the name of “security”?
• How do we protect our children while making sure that they enjoy the freedoms granted in the Bill of Rights—freedoms we used to take for granted?
• The terrorists win if we to afraid to go about our lives as usual. They are generally unpopular even in their own countries and feed off the fear and attention they engender.

And as to the title’s assertion “Why ‘Going Soft’ Will Make America Strong,”
“[in matters of national security, foreign policy and counter terrorism] Anything other than belligerent speech is considered to be weak . . . [but] strength and security come from more than just physical might . . . I believe that to resolve problems, we have to understand them first. I prefer to believe that American policies have had bad results in some places rather than sticking my head in the sand. . . . I believe it demonstrates more courage to allow people whose beliefs you reject to have their say; it takes more integrity to admit you’ve made mistakes; and it takes far more strength to reject change in the face of a threat. I am a mother and that is the strength I know. That is the definition of strength that I will pass to my children so that they understand that there is a balance.”


Of course, all of this got me thinking. I’ve been a stay-at-home, work-from-home mom for the past six years. In six years I’ve spent a lot of time in playgroups, at the playground and on play dates. And I’ve never ceased to be amazed at the sheer number of women who don’t think that politics has anything to do with them. But everything that happens in government—from the local, to the state, to the national level has ripples of consequence.

Imagine that you’re at the park with your child. You go the lake to feed the ducks and your child tosses a rock into the pond. Watch what happens to the ripples. That’s politics. And what’s at stake? The laws that are passed effect your family; the judiciary, both elected and appointed, and how they interpret those laws; the military—will the draft be reinstated, and where will our soldiers—our sons and daughters—be sent?; the national debt—will our kids and grandchildren really be paying for our excesses? All of it affects us every day.

Lately I’ve noticed that many women in my citywide Mothers’ Club have become actively involved in issues such as city planning, in the city education fund, and the Special Education Parent Teacher Association (SEPTAR), which was started by a few mothers worried that their child’s needs weren’t being met.

But what about me? I am the ultimate armchair political junkie. If I don’t get an hourly fix—or at least several times a day—I start twitching. There’s a little panic: What happened? Something must have happened in the time I’ve been away from my computer. But, other than haranguing friends and a few strangers, and writing a few letters to the editor, I’m a passive audience. I hear “Are you going to get involved? Maybe run for office?” and my answer is always “No.*” I don’t have the time, the mental capacity, the self-confidence, or the ambition. All of those things that I imagine politicians need to be successful. But then I’ve always thought being involved in government meant running for city counsel and higher. It never occurred to me to start smaller—the PTA? A position on the board of one of my groups?

But after reading National Security Mom, I’m at least thinking about it.

Because being more involved does matter. To me, to my family, to my children’s future.

*My one exception was helping with a letter writing campaign for Mark Warner when he was running for Governor of Virginia.

And Now, A Time Out From Politics

Thomas and the girls and I went on a little road trip this summer up into Canada. A few other things got in the way, so I haven't posted the photos yet, but I keep going back to this very short video of a stream on the Athabasca Glacier, part of the Columbia Icefield. It just makes all of the messiness of life seem so very far away.

Don't watch if running water makes you have to pee!

New Favorite Name for The Palin

From a column by Charles M. Blow of the New York Times:

Mr. McCain, on Monday you repeated your delusional notion that the fundamentals of the economy are strong. Now, the federal government is working on a deal to save that economy from collapsing. You have admitted that the economy is not your forte, so you could have used a running mate with some financial chops. (Remember Mitt Romney?)

But no. Who did you pick? SnowJob SquareGlasses whose financial credentials include running Wasilla into debt, listing (but not selling) a plane on EBay and flip-flopping on a bridge to wherever. In fact, when it comes to real issues in general, she may prove to be a liability.

The rest of the column is good too, but I'll let you check it out on your own.

A big thanks to GoBecky, or I would have missed it!

The Dammit

Dammit #1:
In addition to her other sins, The Palin has decided to skip California, thus robbing me of my very first protest rally.

Dammit #2:
I used to like John McCain. Not enough to vote for him, but he at least seemed a decent, honorable man. I think he's going to need a food-taster, though (see #3).

Dammit #3:
I am spending way too much time following this campaign, but the thought of a McCain/Palin administration (or what, in recent days, she has repeatedly referred to as a "Palin/McCain administration") literally turns my stomach.

Dammit #4:
I'm a little hypomanic (is that like being a little pregnant?) but without focus. Hyperactive, not much work product to show for it.

What's in a Name? Ask the Sarah Palin Baby Name Generator!

Over the past two weeks, I've wondered about the origins of the names of Sarah Palin's children. And why, exactly, Sarah and Todd Palin named their children after an oil company, a small airplane, the place where one might have conceived one of the little darlings and an abbreviation of a math discipline.

Not to worry: It truly was idle, mind-wandering stuff and not something I'd spend a lot of time on. But someone did! And now you can discover your very own Palin name--well the one you might have had, had you been born in Alaska to a Vice Presidential wannabe. Polit Tsk Tsk Tsk has created the Sarah Palin Baby Name Generator: Enter your real name and the Baby Name Genrator will spit out the Palinized version.

Mean spirited? Perhaps. But I think we can all use a little humor. A small distraction. A little light through the cloud of lies.

Enjoy, and let me know what your Palinized name is!

Mine? Grill Igloo Palin. Oh, dear.

Hockey Moms for Truth

Ok, I was going to lay off this week, but this is too funny:



(discovered this at Salon.com)

Operation Wake Up Call

I don't want to say I'm panicking about the election--yet--but I will say that the thought of another four years of the Bush nightmare scares the proverbial pants off. And I am seriously unnerved by the thought of another election "won" by the Republican Party because a sizable portion of the US population decides to stay home on election day and then spends the next four years bitching about the results.

While I'd like to say I don't have a bias, left or right, that would make me as big a liar as . . . well, never mind that for now. But wherever you fall on the spectrum, there is no excuse for not voting. If you can't physically make it to the polls, you can vote absentee. Don't want to miss work? Go early; go late. Have kids? Take them; it's a great lesson. Can't be bothered to wait for 20 minutes, or even an hour? Eff that. People have waited for years. It's your right; it is a privilege; it is your duty. And now it has become an imperative.

Announcing Operation Wake Up Call.
On November 4, 2008, I'm asking you to get up early. Call your family members. Call your friends and neighbors. Call your co-workers, your teachers, your students, your dry cleaner. Tweet them. Email them. Whoever you think might need a little nudge to get to the polls. A gentle reminder will do: No preaching. No pushing last minute arguments for a particular candidate. Just remind them to make the time to vote.

According to the US Census Bureau, in 2004 64% of the US population eligible to vote did so. This was up from 60% in 2000. Good, but we can do better.

I Think I'm Going to Be Sick

John McCain, who promised to run a clean campaign, has apparently approved a new TV ad that says Barack Obama's one accomplishment on education is authoring "'Legislation to teach 'comprehensive sex education' to kindergartners. Learning about sex before learning to read? Barack Obama. Wrong on education. Wrong for your family."'

According to Margaret Talev of McClatchy newspapers:

"This is a deliberately misleading accusation. It came hours after the Obama campaign released a TV ad critical of McCain's votes on public education. As a state senator in Illinois, Obama did vote for but was not a sponsor of legislation dealing with sex ed for grades K-12.

But the legislation allowed local school boards to teach "age-appropriate" sex education, not comprehensive lessons to kindergartners, and it gave schools the ability to warn young children about inappropriate touching and sexual predators."

Ms. Talev also quotes Obama's spokesman, Bill Burton: "It is shameful and downright perverse for the McCain campaign to use a bill that was written to protect young children from sexual predators as a recycled and discredited political attack against a father of two young girls."

In "Post Partisan" blog on washingtonpost.com, E.J Dionne rightly asks "Does the truth matter anymore?"

The Difference Between Sarah and Dick? Lipstick.

Well, that and heels. But that was a little wordy for the t-shirts:

Left Coast Mom Goes Retail

After watching the Palin's speech last week, I thought of something funny. And then I thought "That would make a great t-shirt!" So I opened a CafePress store and now you can show me some love and buy my t-shirt. Don't worry, I'm not actually going to make much money on them. Maybe a couple of extra trips to Peet's. Unless of course you buy a couple and then tell your friends, and then they buy a couple . . . Which would be perfect because I really just want to see this t-shirt on every woman in the Bay area. Of course, "on every woman in the country" would be even better!

The Dammit

I can't really call it "The Weekly Dammit" anymore, now can I?

You might be surprised to find that none of the Dammits this week are about The Palin. I need to take a leeetle break from it because I'm too young for a heart attack. I'll get to it later (as well as sharing the t-shirt I created at Cafe Press); in the meantime, there are a few other Dammits to be had.

Dammit #1:
I can't listen to NPR in the car right now because I don't want Charlotte's next phrase to be "effing liar!"

Dammit #2:
Bras. I will freely admit that I am not what you would call well endowed. At all. But why can't I find a nice bra that doesn't come with all of the padding? I want a bra, not a chin rest.

Dammit #3:
My cup runneth over with work right now. This might seem like a good thing--and it is! it is!--but it all seems to be due at once. Well, all but my own manuscript, which I'm starting to feel a bit desperate about. I have an estimate and time line due for a website I've been hired to (re)write--as well as actually starting on the content; an Advanced Reading copy of a book that I promised to read and review; and the promise of two other jobs in the next 2-4 weeks. Wah, right? But add to this swim lessons, ballet, school, speech therapy and play dates for the girls and I'm starting to run out of hours in the day.

Dammit #4:
I'm supposed to schedule another mammogram, which will be my fourth (I think). My mother had breast cancer twice (and two different types) and a couple of aunts had it as well. So I had my first a couple of years ago, and then two more over the next year because there was some abnormal tissue they wanted to keep an eye on. It turned out to be nothing, but the experience was not something I'm looking forward to repeating. So I'm procrastinating. I do have all of that work, after all (see above).

Dammit #5:
There are two dog poops left in a unused part of the yard. I have yet to remove them because it's all I have left of Argus. But at least telling Hannah that yesterday was enough to make her stop crying because her "best friend" is gone and she'll never see him again.

Hannah-ism

Sunday mornings are "pancake day" at our house. Thomas gets up early(ish) and makes a huge stack of pancakes while the girls supervise and nibble on the test pancakes. But this past Sunday Thomas was out for a long run (training for his first half marathon!), so I said:

"I guess it's my turn to make the pancakes this week!"

To which Hannah replied, with what sounded like complete sincerity:

"Oh Mom! You make the best black pancakes EVER!"

Live Mic, Republican Style!

Republican strategist Mike Murphy and Peggy Noonan on The Palin*:




Thomas sent to this me from ClusterFlock, who got it via TalkingPointsMemo. TPM thoughtfully included the transcript:

Chuck Todd: Mike Murphy, lots of free advice, we'll see if Steve Schmidt and the boys were watching. We'll find out on your blackberry. Tonight voters will get their chance to hear from Sarah Palin and she will get the chance to show voters she's the right woman for the job Up next, one man who's already convinced and he'll us why Gov. Jon Huntsman.

(cut away)

Peggy Noonan: Yeah.

Mike Murphy: You know, because I come out of the blue swing state governor world: Engler, Whitman, Tommy Thompson, Mitt Romney, Jeb Bush. I mean, these guys -- this is how you win a Texas race, just run it up. And it's not gonna work. And --

PN: It's over.

MM: Still McCain can give a version of the Lieberman speech to do himself some good.

CT: I also think the Palin pick is insulting to Kay Bailey Hutchinson, too.

PN: Saw Kay this morning.

CT: Yeah, she's never looked comfortable about this --

MM: They're all bummed out.

CT: Yeah, I mean is she really the most qualified woman they could have turned to?

PN: The most qualified? No! I think they went for this -- excuse me-- political bullshit about narratives --

CT: Yeah they went to a narrative.

MM: I totally agree.

PN: Every time the Republicans do that, because that's not where they live and it's not what they're good at, they blow it.

MM: You know what's really the worst thing about it? The greatness of McCain is no cynicism, and this is cynical.

CT: This is cynical, and as you called it, gimmicky.

MM: Yeah.

* Like all other hurricanes, the Palin only needs one name.

Fun With Political Signage

I just saw a McCain/Palin banner and, the way it was stacked (and because I'm getting old and my eyes play tricks on me), I initially read it as "McCain/Pain."


And hey! it rhymes, too!

Random Question for the Week

I know I'm gonna hear it for this one, but:

Why is that that, whenever anything ill befalls the nation, certain people on the right are prone to say that it's because God is mad at us? Mad for pushing him out of the public square (e.g.: school and government); annoyed at the advancement of gay rights; pissed off at feminists; still ticked that someone somewhen thought that "puce" was a great name for a color; or some other random act of mad-ness directed at the lefties.

Why is it never that God is displeased with the red team? Hurricane Gustav was predicted to come aground almost three years to the day, in pretty nearly the same location as Katrina--guaranteeing that it would interrupt the opening of the Republican Convention. So why wasn't that interpreted as a hint that the Almighty wasn't happy with the way the red team was managing things (including the shameful way in which the Bush administration left New Orleans to its fate three years ago)?


Because that would be stupid. And because you only play the God card when it serves your own purpose or if you're actually dumb enough to think God cares about your football/baseball/hockey/racing team. Oh, wait . . .

Hurray For September!

I (Still) Heart Joe Biden

Beau Biden's introduction of his father to accept the nomination for VP. You probably already know the story, but get a tissue anyway.





Joe's (what, you didn't know we're on first-name terms?) office has been sending me copies of his speeches for over two years now. I hope the next mailing includes a copy of Beau's speech as well as his father's.

(And when Beau speaks of his "other duties" he is referring to his upcoming deployment to Iraq.)

And, while it should go without saying, Joe's speech was pretty damn good, too:

Random Question for the Week

Why does my University Alumni Association send me three pieces of mail in the same day? They want money (duh) but they're wasting it by not consolidating.

Better question, and posed before by a comedian whose name I forget: Why hasn't anyone asked Bin Laden's university's Office of Giving to smoke him out? Mine has found me through at least five moves.

Will This Cursed Month Never End?

As you're probably already aware, other than the first nine days, August has not turned out to be a great month for me. It's not the first time, either. In August of 1998, my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer; three of my brothers were in a plane crash that killed two of them, as well as the fiancée of the third. And then Thomas almost died after his lungs collapsed.

Fast-forward 10 years: Argus died, followed by my mother less than a week later. The timing forced my brother to fly on the 10th anniversary of the crash. My mother was buried on what would have been her 47th wedding anniversary. And I got to spend excessive amounts of time with family members I don't ever see anymore. In some cases, these are people I don't want to see anymore.

But I did get to spend time with my brother and sister and their families--always fun—and before we came home from Virginia, we were able to spend a really lovely day with Thomas' parents. Other than a higher than normal level of stress, I thought I was doing ok. But the stress level is not really abating and it certainly didn't help that one of our neighbors called code enforcement on the chickens. That's right: at lunch time yesterday, the nice man from code enforcement came by because one of our neighbors called to say that we had roosters--not allowed in the city--rather than hens, which are.

And ridiculous though it may be, that seems to have been, if not the last straw that the camel could bear, then perilously close to it. My temper is razor thin. Last night I was having trouble drawing a full breath. I’m stress eating, and we’re not talking carrots. I can’t stay awake, but when I actually manage to stay asleep, it’s most definitely not restful. And now I have that sick and sinking feeling that generally precedes a need to go to bed and stay there for a month.

I’m certain that, at least in part, it’s the guilt I feel for not being more strongly affected by my mother’s death. Or because I didn’t recognize the person they were eulogizing; the woman that my older sister spoke of, her voice heavy with tears. Why I didn’t know that mother whose death caused my brothers to weep. And now I’m left wondering if that person truly existed and, if so, why I didn’t make a stronger effort to get to know her.

The stress, irritability and depression are familiar demons and I’ll fight them, of course. I always do, though when so much seems to come at once, it’s oh, so much harder.