Where is Elizbeth?

I've been worried about Elizabeth Edwards over the past couple of weeks. She hasn't been anywhere near as visible on the campaign trail as in the past. She was with John in New Orleans today, of course, but otherwise, not so much. Anyone know? But here's hoping it's not bad news.

The Weekly Dammit, #22

'Tis the eternal season of political nightmares, so I'll start there:

Dammit #1:
John Edwards bowed out today. He had the most comprehensive, detailed platform on issues ranging from the environment to education, veterans affairs to jobs creation and solving poverty in America. He is a champion of the middle and lower classes, and, no it does not (should not, anyway) matter that he made a boat load of money and had a huge house. In his mind, it is right and good that those who have had (or made) opportunities--and done very--well extend a hand and help others up the ladder.

Dammit #2:
This one rates as a Super Dammit: A caller to the NPR program, Talk of the Nation, described himself as "a long-time white male Democrat" who would vote for Hillary if she were the eventual nominee, but never for Barack Obama. He would vote for John McCain instead, as would many of his friends. The reason? The perceived lack of substance to Obama's plans. Oh, and they can't bring themselves to vote for a black man.

Dammit #3:
In California, if you register party affiliation as "Decline to State" (VERY different from "Independent"), absentee voters have to request a Democratic or American Independent ballot in order to vote in the presidential primary. Thomas dropped our forms off two weeks ago, getting his new ballot same day because he took them the Decline to State ballot. They "lost" my paperwork, so after a few phone calls, I find that I can 1) just go to the polling place and vote there, or wait for the new ballot, mail it back and not have my vote counted for three days.

Dammit #4:
We're leaving for Disneyland on Friday morning and, after a very healthy month or so, Hannah and I are both sick. Thomas seems to have avoided the worst of it, possibly because he's been working a lot as well as training for a triathlon. Charlotte is still healthy because, after 18 months of physical therapy she is much stronger than the rest of us. Which, by the way, is an anti-Dammit :)

Hannah’s First Ditch Day

We went to Disneyland over Super Bowl(R)(TM)(C) weekend last year—the first time for me as well as for the girls—and it was so much fun. We lucked out twice: first because the park was sparsely attended, what with the Big Game(R)(TM)(C) and all, and second because the weather was almost too nice—sunny and hot. We had to buy shorts and hats for the girls. We decided to take a chance on the weather and go again this year. I am SO excited! Ahem. Of course by that, I mean that I am excited to see Hannah’s reaction when we tell her why she doesn’t have to go to school on Friday. It’s actually kind of silly how excited I am to tell her, to see her beautiful little face light up. (Charlotte already knows, but Hannah misinterprets the signs “mouse” and “house/home” as Charlotte saying that she wants to watch Mickey Mouse Playhouse.)

I could have just called Hannah in sick on Monday, but at my age I felt completely ridiculous lying to a teacher—not that I was ever good at it anyway. There was also the certainty that Hannah would go in on Tuesday screaming, “I went to Disneyland!” So I finally worked up the nerve to ask if it was sort of, maybe, ok if we, you know, hypothetically speaking, took Hannah out of school for a day to go to Disneyland. After laughing at me, Mrs. B assured me that it would be ok, to just call Hannah in sick on Monday. I decided to push my luck by coming back a couple of days later, saying that we might want to leave on Friday morning instead of afternoon. So, you know, Hannah wouldn’t be in on Friday either.

I already liked Mrs. B, but I will now say without hesitation that she is the teacher I would have liked to have when I was a child. And saying “It’s kindergarten—just go already!” was just icing.

The Year's Sweetest Words

"This evening, President George Bush delivered the last State of the Union address of his administration." --Countless News Anchors across the US and around the world.

I'm saving my rendition of "Ding dong the witch is dead . . ." for another 12 months. In the meantime, I'll be hoping against hope that W doesn't find another way to try to get us all killed in the little time he has left in office.

The Weekly Dammit, #21

Dammit #1:
When I got my first paycheck for my work on Mixx.com, Thomas bought me a pair of SHURE sound canceling earphones. I have small ears so the buds don't fit. None of them. Which means I can still hear Mickey Mouse Playhouse unless I turn my volume way up.

Dammit #2:
Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama aren't doing themselves any favors with the intensified sniping at one another. I experienced an incredible sinking feeling when I watched the debate in South Carolina, the same sort of feeling I get whenever I realize that the Democrats have found a new way to shoot themselves in their collective ass. Perhaps there's a less-than secret reason their mascot is a donkey.

The bright spot, when he finally got a word in edgewise:

JOHN EDWARDS: "Are there three people in this debate, not two? I also want to know, I also want to know, of behalf of voters here in South Carolina, this kind of squabbling, how many children is this going to get health care? How many people are going to get an education because of this? How many kids are going to be able to go to college because of this? We have got to understand, you know, and I respect both of my fellow candidates, but we have got to understand this is not about us personally, it is about what we are trying to do for this country, and what we believe in."

Dammit #3:
I'm letting Charlotte watch TV while I write this.

Dammit #4:
The real reason Charlotte is watching TV is because I'm trying to catch up on my homework for my life coach. Which I put off again.

Dammit #5:
I went to the gym last night for the first time in . . . . I think I damaged my heart. I kept ending up at my regular walking pace on the elliptical. In case you were wondering, that's not a good thing: At one point my heart rate was at 171--albeit briefly.

Dammit #6:
Heath Ledger. Dammit. Idiot.

Today's Random Question

Why do the people who write death notices (not the official obituary) for a ninety-five year old person use the phrase "Cause of death not given"?

The (Used to Be) Weekly Dammit, #20

Where does the time go? Wherever it went, I didn't see The Dammit there. So let's see if I remember how to do this:

Dammit #1:
There is no The Weekly Dammit #18. Well, technically there is, but I never actually published it. It exists only as a draft. It was FABULOUS but now hopelessly out of date.

Dammit #2:
Apparently the Bush administration played a round of "Is Your IT director Smarter Than a Fifth Grader" and lost. Assuming the overwriting of back up disks containing two years worth of email and other information was unintentional. Yeah, yeah. That's it. Unintentional.

Dammit #3:
I hired a life coach to help me work through the "do I want to finish my book and keep freelancing or get a regular job" thing. I really like her but she keeps giving me homework. Which I keep forgetting until the night before. I never wanted to go back to high school and here I am paying someone for that same vaguely panicky feeling . . .

Dammit #4:
That whole Iranian Revolutionary Guard thing in the gulf may actually have been a hoax. And the Pentagon says it didn't say it was actually the Iranians saying "I am coming to you . . .You will be exploded in minutes." It does, however, still appear that it was the IRGC's boats. Seriously--does this shit ever end?

Random Question of the Day

Does "Dermatologist tested" mean "Tested on dermatologists, not rats"?

Beecause Every Monday Needs a Good Laugh

Washingtonpost.com's Dan Froomkin pulls together some of the more amusing? maddening? mind-boggling? quotes from W in advance of his Middle East tour:

"I can predict that the historians will say that George W. Bush recognized the threats of the 21st century, clearly defined them, and had great faith in the capacity of liberty to transform hopelessness to hope, and laid the foundation for peace by making some awfully difficult decisions," Bush told Yonit Levi of Israel's Channel 2 News. Bush held several interviews with Middle Eastern journalists last week in anticipation of his trip to the region, which starts tomorrow.

"When he needed to be tough, he acted strong, and when he needed to have vision he understood the power of freedom to be transformative," Bush said of himself to Nahum Barnea and Shimon Shiffer of the Israeli newspaper Yediot Ahronot.

As for the people of the Middle East, Bush told Hisham Bourar of al-Hurra Television: "I would hope that they would say President Bush respects my religion and has great love for the human -- human being, and believes in human dignity."

The Bush record, the president told Nadia Bilbassy-Charters of al-Arabiya Television, is one of liberation -- "liberation, by the way, not only from dictatorship, but from disease around the world, like HIV/AIDS or malaria."

On a personal basis, Bush told Bilbassy-Charters that he hopes that people would know "that he hurts when he sees poverty and hopelessness" and "that he's a realistic guy."

Check out the blog post for more!

Lessons Learned

We're having some nasty weather in the Bay Area today. And yesterday, with more to come tomorrow. Heavy rain and winds gusting to 71 miles an hour, with several feet of snow being dumped in the mountains. Nothing like a little bad weather to teach you a few lessons (well, except a precocious five year old).

So, to the lessons:

1. Chickens don't like rain.
2. Chickens don't dislike rain enough to resist the potentially suicidal temptation to dig a lake under their food bowls.
3. Twice.
4. The bucket of mulch I had been planning to put in the garden was perfect for filling in Lake Sophia/ZsuZsu.
5. Low-rise pants are not the best to wear in a driving rainstorm.
6. My water-resistant jacket isn't.
7. 50-mile an hour wind gusts are not enough to take down the neighbor's bug- and disease-infested apple tree.
   

Feeling Optimistic

Putting aside the question of what if any influence they should have on presidential elections, the Iowa caucuses are finally over.

Barack Obama, First place
John Edwards, Second
Hillary Clinton, a surprising Third

I would have preferred the order Edwards, Obama, Clinton, but this will do for now. It's not that I don't think Hillary would do a good job. I think that I think that she might. Do a good job. And it's not that I'm looking for the warm fuzzies--we had too many idiots vote for another idiot just because they thought he might be fun to have a beer with. So, no, not looking for the warm fuzzies or a cold beer. But, though I love Bill and would vote for him again tomorrow (assuming he wasn't running on a platform of "change"), I don't know that I trust Hillary, or the idea that she can make things in Washington any different than they have been for the past couple of (few?) decades.

I like John Edwards, and Barack Obama runs a close, close second. (Of course, if Joe Biden could keep his feet out of his mouth except when he's orating, he'd be higher on my list.) I don't, however, see how Edwards, Obama, or anyone else, is going to get us out of Iraq immediately. Whether or not it was ever a Pottery Barn policy: We broke it. We need to find a way to fix it and I don't think just packing up and leaving is going to work. And not because some terrorist somewhere is going to see it as a sign of weakness, but because we broke it and we can't just leave it.

So now what? It's the economy, stupid. It's the war, stupid. It's the environment, stupid . . .

But I can't really complain; no matter who I like more right now, Edwards, Obama and Clinton are all superb candidates. The second most important thing to remember is that GWB is on his way out.

Interior Design for the Dollhouse Crowd

One of the few things I dislike about our house is that, while we have three bathrooms, we all share the one bathroom on the main floor. For Thomas, I guess the worst part is that, well, he has to share a bathroom with three females. For me, it’s the eternal game of hide-and-seek with my personal care products.

When I’m in need, I must first go calling at one of the two established dollhouses, and then check in at the myriad shanties that pop up over night like little pink mushrooms. (Shoeboxes, hats, baskets, etc.) If I don’t move quickly or quietly enough, the trip is accompanied by little shrieks of “But Mommy! That’s the CUSHION for the SOFA!” Or “NO!! That’s NOT a tampon! It’s a PILLOW!” God only knows where the new heads for my Venus razor might be—or to what purpose they have been put.

Yes, the tampons are bolsters. The panty liners are sofa cushions—and look! Reversible! See? If you take off the little pink covers you can make a nice, long, comfy white cushion! Now if only the pink cushions stuck as well to the furniture . . .

It matters not where I put them: There is no place to hide anything that my little magpies might be able to use in a new interior design scheme. And I just found the razor heads: Individually packaged, they make excellent coffee and side tables.

Steve Jobs vs RIAA?

From today's Washington Post, in an article about the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA) using the federal court system in an attempt to stop digital music sharing:

" . . . in an unusual case in which an Arizona recipient of an RIAA letter has fought back in court rather than write a check to avoid hefty legal fees, the industry is taking its argument against music sharing one step further: In legal documents in its federal case against Jeffrey Howell, a Scottsdale, Ariz., man who kept a collection of about 2,000 music recordings on his personal computer, the industry maintains that it is illegal for someone who has legally purchased a CD to transfer that music into his computer."

CDs sales are down and consumers--and some artists--are looking for ways to avoid these traditional (aka: old) media companies altogether. So the answer is to sue the pants off of college students and now people who are actually purchasing the CDs and copying them to their own computers? Brilliant.

So when does Steve Jobs enter the picture? If the RIAA wins this suit, will they then claim that, once a song or album is purchased and downloaded through a service such as iTunes, the consumer is not legally permitted to then transfer that song or album from their computer to their iPod? Maybe, but I'd put my money on Steve and the 100 million or so of my fellow iPod users.

Christmas With the In-laws

I adore my mother- and father-in-law, but I know that many, many people were not so fortunate in that little lottery. Take, for instance, my friend who, for obvious reasons, must not be named. He sent me this:

Xmas Day Itinerary:

8:00-10:59: I enjoy a great Christmas morning with my wife and daughter
11:00: In-laws show up
11:01: First bottle of wine is secretly opened
11:02: I pour a glass of wine into the mug I was using for coffee to avoid detection
1:20: In-laws have now settled in, no thoughts of leaving in the next 10 hours
1:30: First bottle of wine is long gone as well as a beer or two. I tell everyone that I'm going to open a bottle of wine and ask if anyone wants a glass, fully aware of the answer: No
1:35: I grab a wine glass, but keep my coffee mug behind a picture on an end table, just in case
2:30: Dinner starts
2:45: I finish eating
4:44: In-laws finish eating
5:00: Brother-in-law's girlfriend's family shows up, including her neurotic sister, her boyfriend—who I don't know—and their punk-ass teenagers
5:00:30: I lock up the valuables and hide my car keys and wallet
5:01: Not sure of the count, but another bottle of wine is opened.
5:03: Everything kind of starts over again but with the new players
5:15: "Drunk Dialing" friends from the garage begins
6:30: Mean looks from the wife because I'm ignoring her family. My excuse: why change now? Plus it's nearly impossible to get a word in edgewise not to mention my diminishing motor skills
7:30: The guests are in all here. I've switched to Sam Adams because my teeth are purple
9:00: I call a friend for the second time, envious because his day has long been over.
9:01 - 11:00: Does it matter? I won't remember anyway.
11:00: People start to leave
11:30: The same people are still leaving
12:00: Everyone has left
12:15: Mother in law calls to say good night for the tenth time

In Need of a Laugh?

Try this:

Top 278 Star Wars Lines Improved By Replacing A Word With "Pants"

Though I appreciate the effort, I'm surprised the list stops at 278. Certainly couldn't have been for a lack of material.*

But anyway: You're welcome!


*Apologies for the completely unintentional pun.

Mac and PC Meet Santa

Ho Ho Ho!

The Weekly Dammit, #19

After a lengthy hiatus, it's back! C'mon, you know you missed your Weekly Dammit.

Dammit #1:
Holy crap! It's actually been a month since the last Dammit. I'm blaming it on work, changes to Charlotte's schedule, a trip to Georgia for Thanksgiving . . . Or we could just go with laziness.

Dammit #2:
Mike Huckabee once advocated quarantine for AIDS patients. And said that Hollywood stars should fund HIV/AIDS research from their own pockets. Guess who's ahead in the Iowa and South Carolina polls?

Dammit #3:
Normal people come with "irrelevance filters." That means that they can actually concentrate and generally have much better memories. To paraphrase myself from a comment on Mixx.com, if you didn't come with said filters factory installed, can you buy them?

Dammit #4:
A slice of pumpkin pie (1/8 of a pie and who eats only that?) has 320 calories and 15 grams of fat. On the positive side, it also has 7 grams of fiber.

Why . . .

Why does Mitt Romney, or any other candidate, need to give a major speech to say that they will govern as an American and not let their religion be an issue? We can answer that with another question: Why do so many Americans think it necessary for any and all candidates to believe in God, and more specifically, Jesus Christ?

The most problematic portion of the speech, for me, was this: "Freedom requires religion, just as religion requires freedom" and "Americans acknowledge that liberty is a gift of God, not an indulgence of government." I see liberty as being a gift from the founding fathers, and everyone else who put their necks on the line--literally--to gain independence from England. It's also a gift from every single one of the military people who leave their families, for months, and even more than a year at a time, to protect all Americans and our way of life. I'm pretty sure they don't sort us out by religion as to who is more deserving of that protection. Nor are all military personnel Christian.

But what about those who do not accept Jesus Christ as their personal savior? I would never vote for or against a candidate based solely on religion. I want to know what s/he is going to do about the economy; how to handle the Iraqi problem in a decent and moral way; how to get math and science scores back up so Americans can be more competitive in the global marketplace; how to bring more jobs back in the US; how to handle the environmental crisis; as well as a few other issues I can't think of at the moment.

Basically, I don't care if a candidate is Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Mormon or any other religion--nor do I care if a candidate is agnostic or atheist. What matters is not who they worship, or if they worship, what matters is how they will govern and whether religious beliefs will influence how they govern. It is a very sad state when candidates for elected office feel that is has become such an important issue that they ask reporters follow them to Sunday (or Saturday) services.

We've spent seven years with a president who wears his religion on his sleeve, to the point of having evolutionary science demoted to a "theory," abstinence only programs promoted both here and abroad, the Supreme Court packed with ideologues, though what we were ostensibly looking for was judges who would not legislate from the bench. Because that's a bad thing--but only if you're a Democrat.

Mommy Has a Potty Mouth

When I was a child, as punishment for swearing, I had my mouth washed out with soap. Twice, and neither time was deserved:

The first: My oldest sister kept telling me to "Copy what I say! Say it after me!" Once she got me to say "dammit," she tattled and I had my first taste of Ivory soap.

The second: I had stayed home from school, but apparently a cold is not an excuse to sleep, so Mom put me to work. While cleaning out the pantry, I started singing a little song. Rhyming the word "lucky" as you make your way through the alphabet will also get your mouth washed out with soap.

In the first case, I was five. In the second, not more than seven.

After that, I didn't really swear until college--yes, the occasional "dammit" but definitely not the f-bomb. And unless you've waited tables, you probably didn't know that the job came with an advanced degree in the fine art of swearing (MFAS). Off the floor, the cures fly thick and fast and, before I knew it, I had picked up the habit which has proved harder to break than smoking. But now that whole "do as I say and don't repeat what I say" thing isn't going to work anymore, as Hannah pointed out on our flight to Georgia for Thanksgiving.

Me: "Dammit! The seat is broken! . . . . . Oh, um, remember: that's one of those words that you're not supposed to say."

Hannah: "Well then, maybe you shouldn't say it either."

Point taken.

So now I have my New Years Resolution chosen for me, and early at that. The trouble is that I'm not good at sticking to the things that are supposed to make me better in some way: losing weight, working out, reading more, writing my book, quitting my foolish competition with European wine drinkers . . . . So how the he ck am I supposed to stop swearing?

Some people, I've heard, charge themselves a quarter and then buy a reward for reaching certain goals. But what? Dessert? No--this would just bring us back to the whole "don't like push ups" thing. Shoes? Clothes? Books? Sadly, don't need (as in "can't justify, even if my language becomes as pure as Mother Theresa's") the first two, and don't want to add another couple of books to the pile already waiting. A donation to a good cause might seem like a good idea on it's face, but it is, as the others, a disincentive: If I charge myself a quarter every time I swear, where is the incentive to stop? I'd have a new pair of Jimmy Choos in a couple of days, a week, tops. And I can't lose weight fast enough for the new wardrobe I could purchase. As for the donation? If I were to donate every quarter to the cause, why would I want to stop swearing if it would dry up my donation?

No, the answer is in donating to a cause whose mission makes my skin crawl and the bile rise in my throat. An organization which would (in this way only) get my check and which could, at the very thought of my writing said check, shock away every bit of natural color left in my hair. That's right: Nati*onal R*ght to L*fe. (I've added a few characters so I don't show up on a Google search. Anyone know if I can bleach that term from my own search history?) While this challenge doesn't start until January 1, I've already managed to scare myself at least a bit straighter. The day after I decided on this course, I owed them a phantom $2.50 by 9:00. Yes, 9:00 in the morning. But after less than one week, with more "drats," "darnits," and even "hecks," I'm down to maybe .50-.75 per day, which is a huge improvement. So as long as I remember to apply duct tape before I hit the highway, I might be OK.


*For clarification: This applies to verbal mishaps only. It will in no way, shape or form change the Weekly Dammit. Whenever the Dammit decides to come back online, that is.

Parlez Vous Francais?

Thanks to my friend Laura, I can now release my Inner European. I know you'll be as shocked as I wasn't to find that

My Inner European is French!

Smart and sophisticated. You have the best of everything - at least, *you* think so.

Who's Your Inner European?

Though I must say that for me it's more of a "Would like to have a few nice things that no one has ever wiped their nose on."