The universe can be pretty cool

I thought this was a pretty neat story:

Already feeling better

As usual, it is only by reaching out to others that I can pull myself out of my funk. I got an e-mail from my friend Leslie, who gave me a boost in the comments a couple of posts down, and then I was looking up auditions for choral groups, hoping to find a group to sing with over the summer, and I found the e-mail address of an old friend of mine, who is directing a show. I e-mailed him, he e-mailed me back, and now I feel really good.

It's a bad habit, retreating when you feel low, and one that I am inclined to do. I'm glad it worked out differently this time, before I got depressed.

I told you so

Number of times Loki has referenced the Deal since we got back from vacation 15 days ago: 5

Out of Sorts

I'm feeling very out of sorts today. Not grumpy, but not happy. I'm surrounded by people all the time, but I'm feeling kind of lonely. Busy, but not doing much that is personally fulfilling. And I have a small feeling of dread because Monkey's teacher wants to have a real good sit-down to discuss Monkey's progress in school. Oy.

And I'm burnt out on politics. I need to refill my well of righteous anger and passion, because right now, it's dry, even as fresh outrages come forward.

Not in my job description, but....

Today, instead of working on the many projects I have going, many of which are behind schedule because of my vacation and yesterday's car accident, my boss asked me to babysit her son. He has impetigo, so he can't go to daycare, so she brought him to the office, because she has meetings today and the world would crumble if she wasn't there to make sure it didn't*.

So instead of working on my actual job, I spent the morning watching Arthur and Thomas the Tank Engine and drawing pictures of various animals and doing all my stupid human tricks (whistling with my hands, armpit farting, juggling, levitating). My charge was particularly impressed by the levitating, which surprised me, because usually, little boys in his age range are all about armpit farts.

*I badmouth my boss a bit, but I really have a like/dislike relationship with her. I dislike working for her - she's a perfectionist control freak. But I really like her - she's funny and smart and witty and a pleasure to talk to...as long as we aren't talking about work.

Best Laid Plans

I cannot report on the Ned Lamont event. Instead of going to my meeting and then heading back to work before going to the event, I had a car accident.

Well, it wasn't my accident, actually. My boss was making a U-turn (illegal, but she did signal) and the car behind us tried to go around her, but instead plowed into the driver's side of the car. She's 8 months pregnant, so she was seriously freaked out. We were in the middle of the road for about an hour, the police came, the ambulance took the people in the other car to the hospital, and we eventually got back on our way. She didn't want to take the ambulance, but she did go to the hospital, where they admitted her for observation.

By the time I got back to work, the event was in full swing and I had to leave to take Monkey to her music lessons, so I had to be satisfied with driving by the Old State House and honking my horn and giving the pro-Lamont demonstrators a thumbs up.

I was feeling fine, earlier - I think I've been in bumper cars that jostled me more - but now I'm starting to feel a few aches and pains, so I may be heading to the doctor myself.

Slow blogging ahead

My already diminished posting speed will decline further in the coming weeks. My boss, who is a very difficult person to work for in the best of times, is going on maternity leave in a few weeks, and she's not coming back, so we have amped up the schedule to finish a bunch of stuff before she leaves. My phone answering schedule (which is when I usually get online) has been cut entirely, so I will have little time to post anything during the day, and at night, it can be challenging to get any time on the one computer with internet access we have at our house.

However, I do plan to attend the Lamont rally today, and will report on it either tonight or sometime tomorrow.

Last night in church

I sang at a Lenten Scripture and Song service last night. The service was held in the small chapel, and I believe the choir outnumbered the congregation (and most of the people in the choir are heretics, like me).

Anyway, the new minister, who I don't like, gave a sermon about Jesus toning down the miracles because it was distracting from his message. In his sermon, he said how a friend of his went to see the very popular band (at the time) KISS, and was raving about the show.

"Oh, man, you should have seen the light show!" his friend said.
"Yes, but how was the band?" teenage minister asked.
"Their costumes were amazing! with the platform shoes and black leather and makeup!" his friend said.
"Yes, but how was the band?" teenage minister asked.
"Gene Simmons breathed fire!" his friend said.
"Yes, but how was the band?" teenage minister asked.

My favorite tenor (MFT) leaned over and said "Jesus was just like KISS."

I said "yeah, at first he was all big with the showy miracles. But then he took the makeup off, and then his album sales went way down."

MFT: "the worst thing was when Jesus released that song, "Beth". The magic was gone when that dreck came out."

Me: "Yeah, before that, Jesus was scary, but interesting, turning water into wine, bringing people back from the dead...but you can't be scared of someone who sings a song like "Beth".

Monday, March 13, 4pm, at the Old State House

Ned Lamont's going to make an announcement, and I'm going to be there.

A Modest Proposal

I've been thinking over the anti-choice movement, and to find a way for Democrats and Progressives to bring some of the anti-choice people over from the dark side. I proposed this over at Shakespeare's Sister, in the comments section, but I've been thinking about it and I think it deserves a greater airing.

Why don't we just remove the testicles of all men, when they hit puberty, to be returned when they are legally wed and therefore legally obligated to care for any sprog they help create.

*Diminished sex drive due to absense of testicles means the problem of premarital sex will go away!
*By the same token, the occurence of rape will diminish, which means no pesky exceptions for pure virgins who find themselves knocked up due to an unwilling sexual encounter. It insures moral coherence!
*If an unmarried woman gets pregnant, we'll know that she's an adulterer, so there is still the option to punish, or at least shame, women for having teh sex.
*Less invasive then ownership of uteri and ovaries, since they're just hanging there on the outside rather than tucked away on the inside.

True, some men will probably be opposed to this. There are a lot of good progressive men out there who probably don't deserve this kind of treatment. But women aren't the only Americans who can't be trusted to manage their own reproductive health. There are men out there who have fathered multiple children, only to abandon them to life with a single mother, which, as we know, is second only to a household parented by two loving people of the same gender in sending this country straight to hell.

I'm glad I could solve this dilemma in a way that is fair to both genders. I will be contacting my legislators shortly to ask them to put forward my modest proposal.

International Woman's Day

Today is International Woman's Day, and I will point you to this scorecard to give you an idea of how some places in America are celebrating. I swear, the news these days is making me feel like doing some castrating, starting with these guys:



See how they like having the government mess with their reproductive organs, however withered and tiny they may be.

Trip - day 1

2/15/06

I was going to post about all the pre-leaving the house brouhaha, but I can't remember all the specifics anymore, so I'll just briefly state that I did all the work and everyone else just got in the way (or got out of the way when I actually needed them) and so I was pissy and bitchy and cranky by the time we actually got in the car to drive to FIL's house.

My favorite moment, before we actually left, was when I went out to the car and packed all the dogs stuff - his food, bowls, treats, and a gate so FIL could cordon him off if he got troublesome. Then Loki got into the car and we started down the driveway. And then I realized that the dog was still in the house! Early onset Alzheimer's is not pretty, people. I keep asking the girls to reassure me that they will take care of me when I can't remember who they are anymore, but really, there's no way for me to ever know if they follow through, is there?

FIL was a little pissy and bitchy and cranky, too, because Loki told him we would be there two hours before we actually got there, and so FIL canceled a doctor's appointment. FIL should know by now to never trust Loki's assessment of when we will get anywhere.

We took the CT Limo bus from New Haven to LaGuardia. There was hardly anyone on the bus, so Loki sat behind me and stretched out to take a nap. But the ride was bumpy, so he woke up and started talking to the gentleman who was sitting across the aisle from him. This gentleman, Al, was a visiting professor who had just completed a brief stint at Quinnipiac College. He was going back home to Hungary, and he and Loki got started on all kinds of topics. Al spoke 5 languages, so he taught Loki some helpful French phrases and laughed when I told him we learned "nous ne soutenon pas le President Bush". Al said we should be careful anywhere in Europe because anti-American sentiment is very strong right now.

We said our adieu's when we got to the airport (Al was flying from JFK), and headed into the terminal. As we were sitting in the boarding area for our flight to Philly, the airline announced that the flight was oversold, and were looking for travelers with flexible travel plans - they offered a free round trip ticket anywhere in the continental US for travelers who were willing to give up their seat on this flight. The alternative flight would send you to JFK, and then to Philly, giving you 45 minutes to catch the flight to Paris. This will be heretofore known as "the deal". I said "No thanks," not just because of the too-brief layover, but because the thought adding one more airport (JFK) to our itinerary made me feel like puking. Loki pestered and pestered and tried to rally support from the offspring, but the girls chose to side with the practical parent instead, and I won the popular vote.

Our flight to Philly was lovely - it was dusk and flying over the NYC skyline is always kind of inspiring. The pilot told the passengers that we picked a beautiful night for a flight.

When we arrived in Philly, we found that the flight to Paris was delayed 2 hours. Cue the "I told you so" from Loki. "We should have taken the deal. We'd be no worse off than we are right now, and we'd have free round trip tickets to anywhere US Airways flights in the continental U.S. and Canada!" Except, of course, it took him longer to say all that and he repeated himself several times.

About an hour before the flight boarded, I took 2 Tylenol PM, so by the time we boarded, I was ready to sleep. The last time we flew overseas, I didn't sleep on the plane *at all*, and so I was seriously jet lagged for the first couple of days of our trip. I was not going to do that again. Monkey and I sat together towards the back of the plane, and Loki and Sio sat together towards the middle of the plane. I remember the crew announcing they were about to begin food service, but I was totally asleep by the time they arrived, so I never ate.

We landed at about 11:30 local time, and made our way through immigration, where Loki received applause from the clerk for his French. If you've never been to Charles de Gaulle, there are two terminals. We were in terminal one, which is a circular building that could have been in the movie A Clockwork Orange, a resemblence that conjures a sinister feeling in my mind, at least. Loki and the girls napped while I exchanged some traveler's checks - which took forever, because there were two windows open but only one clerk. He kept going back and forth between the two windows.

I had directions to the hotel, and we found it relatively easy to get around. We took the RER A to Gare du Nord. We had a little bit of a struggle figuring out how to get to the Metro from there, but Sio's French was quite good, and the young man behind the desk gave us a marked up map of the Metro system, so we took the Metro to Place de Clichy.



The place was hopping, and reminded me of Times Square, although on a smaller scale. We figured out where our hotel was and checked in. We stayed at the Hotel Beausejour Montmartre (which I can recommend heartily - inexpensive, clean, very helpful staff, free internet in the lobby). I took a much needed shower, and then napped for the hour Loki was in the bathroom. (Loki has ezcema, so he needed to moisturize). We got ourselves all spiffied up and headed towards the Sacre Coeur.

It was chilly and cloudy, but not unpleasant as we walked. We passed by the Moulin Rouge (or at least the road on which the Moulin Rouge lives) and the Montmartre Cemetary. As we headed upwards, Loki kept stopping to ogle the tiny cars.



It started to rain as we got close to the Sacre Coeur. Loki and Monkey dipped into a creperie to get some food (Loki had a panini and a Kronenbourg; Monkey had a chocolate crepe.) Sio and I went into a tourist shop and picked out postcards, and I bought a cheap plastic raincoat. I put the raincoat on, and an old, toothless French man started to talk to me:

"Vous regardez très joli. Le bleu regarde assez à côté de vos cheveux rouges."

Umm...je non parle pas francais?

"Vous regardez très joli. Le bleu regarde assez à côté de vos cheveux rouges!" At this point, he actually reached out and touched my hair.

Sio, can you help me here?

"Vous regardez très joli. Le bleu regarde assez à côté de vos cheveux rouges."

Mom, he's trying to tell you that you are pretty and blue looks nice with your hair.

Oh. Merci

I then skedaddled up the hill. It's international - old toothless men love me.

Sio and I checked out all the artists at the square at the top of the hill, right around the corner from the Sacre Coeur. Sio attracted a lot of attention from the men, who were clamoring to paint her, but we just checked out the menus at the restaurants around the edge of the square.

Loki and Monkey caught up with us and we went around to the Sacre Coeur. The building is recognizable to anyone who's seen the movie Amelie, and there is a spectacular view of Paris from the steps of the basilica.

We went inside the sanctuary, and I'm disappointed that pictures weren't allowed, because there was an impressive organ inside. I would have liked to share that with our organist, who lived in Paris for a year but never visited the Sacre Coeur.

It was evening now, and we took some pics from the hilltop in front of the basilica, with the Eiffel Tower in the background. I will add one of those pics later.

This is also where we encountered our first impressive set of stairs, which, in a way, defined the city of Paris for me. I'm disabled, as I may have mentioned, and I walk with a cane. Paris will always be a Cite d'escalier in my mind - it's not a very handicapped friendly city, at least not by design, although the people I encountered went out of their way to be helpful.

We ate at Chez Eugene, near the Espace de Salvador Dali. The food was predictably good, including my vegetable salad of carrots, beets, and this delicious white vegetable that turned out to be a kind of radish. We had a bottle of wine with dinner. I'm not normally a wine drinker - I don't have the palate; to me, all wine tastes like bad grape juice. But it wasn't too bad. I had a lemon tarte for dessert, but it was way too sweet for my taste, so Loki ended up eating it.

We walked back down the hill to the hotel. Montmartre is charming and romantic in exactly the way I imagined Paris to be. Cobblestone streets, cozy streetlights, incredible views. We stopped at the Moulin Rouge on our way back, just for Sio, who adores the movie Moulin Rouge. It was pretty seedy. We went back to the hotel where Sio, Monkey and I crashed. Loki went back out to one of the Irish pubs we passed where he had a chance to talk to some people while enjoying a few beers. I was asleep when he came back, but he said it was 3am when he got back in. Apparently, the Moulin Rouge area gets a whole lot seedier as the night goes on - he said there were a lot of prostitutes in the area as he walked back to the hotel.

Next update: Ireland.

Come back, Rev. Heretic, come back!

Yesterday was the first service I attended with the new minister. Between his whining about Christian prosecution (We can't have religious displays at the town hall! We can't have the 10 Commandments in a courtroom! We're not allowed to pray in school!*), and his assertion that The Passion of The Christ is the greatest movie ever made, I just about got up and walked out in the middle of the service.

I knew Rev. Heretic was special when we had him. Damn retirement! Come back, Rev. Heretic!

*I don't know about the courtroom one, but I know for a fact that the first and the last whine are complete lies. The beautiful thing about our country is that the state cannot compel anyone to pray to a particular God. That's one of those things that makes America great. And that's how we know right-wingers actually hate America.

sorry

Sorry about the lack of posting - I've basically only used my home for sleeping purposes this weekend, between birthday parties and church and visiting my parents.

Time Warp

I don't know what is happening today, but I got to work at 8:30 a.m., I've been at work for approximately 18 hours (according to my internal clock), yet it's actually only 3pm. Is anyone else having a ridiculously long day?

Remedial Math education works

You Passed 8th Grade Math

Congratulations, you got 10/10 correct!

Could You Pass 8th Grade Math?

I was perhaps a little too excited that I knew how to figure out the answers to all the questions.

Home at last, home at last - a brief overview

The family pisses me off just as we leave, but then we're on our way. We all piss off our FIL who is watching our dog and driving us to the bus. Yay, we're at the airport! Boo, flight is delayed. Finally, we're in Paris. Charles de Gaulle looks unsettlingly like it belongs in the movie A Clockwork Orange. We figure out the train system as we go, lugging 38 kg of luggage around. We found our hotel! The room is clean and we all take a nap while Loki is in the bathroom for an hour and a half...maybe he took a nap, too?

Montmartre is the picture next to the word charming in the dictionary. Climb the hill to Sacre Coeur - oh, my, what a view! Back down the hill to the hotel.

Pre-dawn hours, head for the other side of Paris, catch the bus to Beauvais. Although no one at the airport speaks English and our French sucks, we make it to the right place and board a plane to Dublin.

Rent the car, drive to Dublin. The first locals we encounter scare us. We are accosted by a man who wants to talk about Bush with us. Nous ne soutenon pas le President Bush! Guinness factory...I think Loki actually cries.

Drive out of Dublin halfway to Galway. I need a bathroom and a phone, and miraculously, all the bathrooms and phones between Dublin and Galway are out of order. Loki meets a fellow who saves Ireland's reputation, and finds us a very cheap and very nice B&B for the night.

Morning, en route to Galway. The roads are ridiculously narrow, but oh, man, is it beautiful. Athenry, the mirror incident, and then we're in Tuam. We make our way to my ancestral home, built by my great-grandfather on land that's been in the family since forever. Meet cousins. Not hungry? Doesn't matter, because you can't say no.

My kids decide they want to live on a farm. Meet more relatives, eat more food, drink more of whatever they won't let me refuse.

Connemara, unbelieveably beautiful, and the best Chinese food I've ever had in the westernmost point of Ireland.

Spend the day with the family - Loki rides in my cousin-in-law's sports car and lives to tell about it. Monkey has joined one cousin's family, and Sio has joined another.

Galway City - shopping, shopping, shopping. Again, great food in Ireland. Worst traffic I have ever seen - I commend the forces of evil for designing the Bodkin Roundabout.

Sadly, we leave Ireland and go back to France. Yay, Paris! Our apartment is divine, the location is amazing, and we explore.

Louvre!

stairs, stairs, stairs

Tour Eiffel!

stairs, stairs, stairs

Musee D'Orsay!

stairs, stairs, stairs - yay! an escalator! Oh, it's out of order

Arc de Triomphe!

stairs, stairs, stairs

Notre Dame!

stairs, stairs, stairs

Sadly, we leave Paris and go to the airport. Uh, oh - they sent us to the wrong terminal. Uh, oh, everyone seems to be leaving the counter as we approach. Uh, oh, even though they can see I am clearly a person of reduced mobility, they aren't willing to extend themselves to let us on the flight, even though it's not boarding for THREE FUCKING HOURS!!!!! No flight for you!

Back to Montmartre, great Chinese food, and Sio gets the e-mail address of cute French/Chinese waiter.

Back to airport, we get on the flight that lasts for what felt like 43 hours. Yay! Philadelphia! Boo! US Airways SUCKS and we bounce from gate to gate on standby, each time our hopes dashed. We finally get confirmed on a flight at 8:05, 1/2 hour flight becomes an hour and a half, we get our luggage, get our bus home, and hug the relatives who are waiting to pick us up.

Yeah, that's the short version.

The plague is sweeping through our house

In what will surely be perceived as good news by the French-hating wingers of the world, the maurinsky family will be bringing the plague to Paris tomorrow. It's a fairly tame version of the plague - no one has parts falling off or anything, just your standard sniffling, sneezing, coughing, aching, stuffy head, fever plague.

In the meantime, I'm trying to pack, and I've decided that the light packing I planned isn't light enough, so I have to cut back...or wear a lot more clothes to the airport tomorrow. If I'm lucky, I'll still have a fever and I will like having 4 layers of clothing on my body.

I'm now trying to decide if I should just cut my losses for tonight and get some sleep, or try and get a few more things done. I think I will throw a load of Loki's clothes in the wash, and call it a night. There are still dishes in the sink, and the trunk of the car needs to be emptied so we can fill it with luggage and dog food (the dog is going to stay with grandpa, the dog whisperer).

BTW, I just might be able to blog while we're on our trip - the apartment I rented in Paris has internet access.

blizzard

Three years ago, when we planned a trip to London for our February vacation, our trip was postponed for a day because of a blizzard. This year, the blizzard has been kind enough to come three days before our trip. It's supposed to keep snowing until 7pm tonight - we're supposed to get 12 to 18 inches of snow.

That's my girl

Sio made the cut-off for the Connecticut All-State Chorus! I'm very proud of her. It's a lot harder to make All-State now than it was when I sang in the All-State Chorus lo those many years ago - we had to learn our piece, go in a room and sing in a random quartet. Sio had to learn her piece, sing it solo (even though it was the alto line of a 4 part harmony piece), had to do a scale that the adjudicator picked for her, and had to sight read a piece - a piece that a friend of mine, who adjudicated at this year's audition, said was incredibly difficult and contained randomly inserted dynamic markings and rhythm changes.

control freaks

I got to work this morning and my friend Karen, who is African-American, told me that she stayed up until 2am watching the Coretta Scott King funeral. She had tears in her eyes as she told me about the speakers, and how moved she felt by the whole event.

And then I turn the computer on, and check a few blogs, and I see that the right-wing is once again manufacturing outrage.

That's the right-wing for you: they want to enforce how people live their lives (no gays! no premarital sex! no birth control! no abortion!), and they want to control how people die (Shiavo!), and now they want to control how the loved ones of a deceased person can celebrate that person's life, too.

Dude, where's my party?

Yeah, I think Ward Sutton just about sums it up.

Weekend update in haiku

Friday night visit
sister-in-law loves Buffy
Calls me her dealer

Motor vehicle
Line stretches on for hours
I went home instead

Breakfast at diner
eggs over easy, bacon
I had French toast, too

Strange February
stand outside, talk to sister
don't need to wear coat

Put on my make-up
Go to the Browncoats shindig
I am a huge dork

Tired on Sunday
Make lots of singing mistakes
Snooze during sermon

Not ready for trip
Big holes in Monkey's sneakers
we shop til we drop

Hook up DVR
Argh! Automated phones suck!
Only takes two hours

Some kind of game's on
Watch the Puppy Bowl instead
Stones are way too old

Political Correctness, Schmolitical Schmorectness

This kind of shit is exhibit A in why I hate religion. Cripes. It's an international incident because someone made fun of another someone's sky fairy. I haven't seen the cartoons, and I don't know how offensive they are, but Muslim, Christian, Mormon, Jew - all the religious peoples of this world are way too easily offended.

I mean, people die because of this kind of stuff. Isn't that completely insane? It's not just me, right, it's really and truly insane, isn't it?

The rich get richer, the poor get....screwed again

Yesterday, in a surprise shift towards some sort of fiscal restraint, the House passed $40 billion dollars in cuts to the budget. That could almost qualify as good news, except:

package...would save nearly $40 billion over five years by imposing substantial changes on programs from Medicaid and welfare to child support and student lending.

Hmmm. Medicaid, welfare, child support, student lending....I wonder if these cuts are going to negatively impact the poor more than the wealthy?

So different from me

This is where Sio is hoping to spend her summer.

Her AP Chemistry teacher wrote her the loveliest recommendation - I got teary eyed.

I spent the summer between my junior and senior years at Wesleyan University's Center for Creative Youth, where I wrote crap poems and learned to appreciate Bob Dylan and basically wasted my time in the best possible ways - with good friends, having almost entirely legal fun. So my summer was all about dancing in the rain to the Talking Heads "Take Me To The River" while Sio wants to spend hers doing neurobiology.

At least I was able to help her apply some creative writing techniques to her application letter. I think it helped.

Something to keep my mind of the SOTU

I was so excited after class tonight that I totally forgot the SOTU was even going to be on. This is my third semester taking the madrigal ensemble. My first semester, we had a very nice lady teaching the class, but she was not such a great conductor, and she had a very poor sense of what music would be appropriate for a small (14 voice or less) ensemble. My second semester, the teacher was a lot better, but she had an odd style of conducting and never really pulled us together as a group.

This semester, we have yet another teacher, and he is already 10 times better than the teacher we had last semester, which makes him roughly 1000 times better than the teacher we had two semesters ago. Here are the top three things I already love about him:

1. He has included as part of the repertoire a song that has a kickass alto solo that I know I am going to get, because I have soul, and I am going to *kill* at my audition.
2. When we got into class, copies of the course outline, grading rubric, copies of all the music, and a CD that includes piano reductions of all the parts were sitting on our sets. The man was prepared.
3. In our first class, we sight-read three songs. Last semester, we would be lucky to get through one song at each class. Two semesters ago, we would do nothing but warm-ups because she didn't have any music.

So I was all giddy and excited, at least until I remembered that Bush was going to be invading the airwaves tonight, and me without any alcohol.

My thoughts on Brokeback

While Shakespeare's Sister and Paul the Spud were out enjoying 24 hours of the worst movies ever, I took Sio and two of her friends to see a good movie, Brokeback Mountain (now Nun Approved(tm)!)

I'm a notorious movie crier. My all-time record for crying at a movie was during In America - I started crying about 3-4 minutes into the movie and I never stopped. I even cried during Groundhog Day, people.

That being the case, I expected to be sobbing buckets during Brokeback Mountain. But I didn't. I did get choked up - when Ennis and Jack parted after their summer on the mountain and Ennis had that horrible, puking sort of cry - it was like an old, unused engine, sputtering into life, his repressed emotions suddenly coming to the fore. But my tears waited until the end of the movie, when Ennis visits Jack's parents. The clear understanding that Jack's parents knew what kind of man Jack was, and the way they felt about it - the spitting contempt from Jack's father, the silent understanding of Jack's mother...and then the scene in the bedroom, where Ennis finds his shirt tucked inside of Jack's. That killed me.

I'm a big fan of gay movies, in general. I have to confess, it's largely because of my prurient interest in gay sex. But Brokeback, while it contains a pretty realistic sex scene, was not titillating - it was very matter of fact, and I think it's absolutely true that the whole gay aspect becomes secondary to just wanting these two human beings who clearly love each other to be together. Because they are unable to be open with their love, they end up hurting other people - their wives and children, as well as hurting themselves.

The vistas presented in the movie were beautiful - wide shots of a huge sky, a slight mist coming up as a truck winds down a road surrounded by green fields - Sio and I both said we wanted to visit Wyoming (although apparently, we really want to visit Alberta, Canada, where it was filmed.)

Performance wise, I agree with the accolades that Heath Ledger is racking up. He was restrained and repressed, and you could feel how strong a wall he had to erect to protect himself from feeling anything. Jake Gyllenhall started to shine as the movie went on, as Jack's dissatisfaction with the few brief moments he got to spend with Ennis each year began to weigh on him. Michelle Williams and Anne Hathaway were both terrific as the wives of Ennis and Jack.

I had just dried my tears from the scene where Ennis visited Jack's parents when the credits rolled, playing Willie Nelson's "He Was A Friend of Mine". And then the tears started up again. Luckily, the next song to run during the credits was by Rufus Wainwright, so I dried my tears and squeed like a fangirl (which, for Rufus, I totally am).

I have one big criticism for the movie. There is a scene towards the end of the movie where Ennis says "I'm only gonna say this once", and then he proceeds to say something I couldn't understand at all. And I didn't understand what Ennis said to Linda Cardellini's character that made her respond "girls don't fall in love with fun!" (paraphrased). So Ennis was a little too mumbly. That is my only criticism.

American People Notice Bush is Fucking Everything Up

A USA Today Poll indicates the nation is not entirely pleased with the State of the Union.

A snippet:

• Said the country has gotten off track. By 62%-35%, they were dissatisfied with the way things are going in the USA. That's the most pessimistic view at the start of a year since Bush took office.


• Rated the economy as faltering. Six in 10 said the current economy was only fair or poor, and 54% said economic conditions were getting worse. Views differed by party: 68% of Republicans but just 16% of Democrats called the economy excellent or good.


• Questioned Bush's leadership. By 64%-34%, they said Bush didn't have a clear plan for solving the country's problems. The president received his strongest approval rating, 52%, on fighting terrorism. But on health care - ranked as an issue equal to the economy - congressional Democrats were more trusted, 54%-35%.

One of the poll respondents sums it up pretty well:

"I'm too old to be worrying about much," said Bernice Tabor, 76, of Cleveland. But she frets about casualties in Iraq and layoffs at Ford Motor Co. "We're going backward instead of forward."

I know there are so many things that Bush is fucking up that it's hard to keep track. But even right-wingers aren't happy that they are buying less stuff, but paying the same money (or more). Maybe pocketbook issues - it's the economy, stupid - will ultimately turn the vast middle against Bush.

Letter from my aunt

My Aunt Maureen (after whom, as you might have already guessed, I am named), sent me a letter yesterday. Aunt Maureen was my favorite aunt; indeed, she was the favorite aunt of all of my siblings as well as our 3 maternal cousins. She would come visit and invite all our friends over, and throw Pizza-Potato Chip-Pretzel-Popcorn Pajama Parties. One year, she was visiting on Halloween, and she walked all the neighborhood kids down to the graveyard, where we sat in a circle while she told us ghost stories.

She always had a bunch of jokes, and when she mastered sign language (she went deaf at age 18), her jokes got even better, accompanied by her brilliant, expressive movements.

As usual, her letter included a newspaper clipping and some daily affirmation types of sayings. This time, the newspaper clipping was about creating time for oneself and the daily affirmations were quotes from the Dalai Lama.

She said her job stresses her out, but she loves it anyway because she helps people and makes good money (she's a nurse, but she doesn't keep any of the money, because she's also a Franciscan Missionary Nun who took a vow of poverty. her siblings joke she had to take a vow of poverty because she never would have survived a vow of silence.)

My favorite part of the letter was about Brokeback Mountain. She said she can't stop talking about it, and that everyone should go see it. She said it was a beautiful, but tragic story, and she hoped it would open people's hearts to realize that the message of Jesus was LOVE, and the only kind of love Jesus didn't care for was love of money.

I'm so lucky to have my aunt Maureen.

Oh, that brings me back

Sio just called me from home - school closed early because of a bomb threat. She was in the library when the alarm went off, and all her stuff is still there, because they won't let anyone back in the school. She's pissed, because she was working on her junior thesis, so all her notes are sitting on a table in the library. All because some joker wrote "There's a bomb in the school" on the bathroom sink. They have to take all threats seriously, and I wouldn't argue otherwise, but I will be amazed if they actually find anything close to a bomb.

That does bring me back to my own high school days, though. My senior year, we had bomb threats on a weekly basis, particularly as spring rolled around. We had so many of them that my teachers just started teaching outside - I remember having chorus rehearsal on the lawn. No bombs were ever found, and I don't think they ever caught the person who was making the threats (although there were rumours aplenty.)

Last night, I went to Sio's school for their Midwinter Concert, and it was outstanding. There were performance by the Percussion Ensemble, the Chamber Orchestra, the Wind Ensemble, the Roundtable Singers, and my favorite group of the night, the Jazz Combo, a group of 8 gifted students from the Wind and Percussion ensembles plus a piano player and a bass player. I had to leave early, so I missed the Jazz Band, which is always excellent.

Helpful Phrases for our trip to Paris

Où est la salle de bains ?
(Where is the bathroom?)

Quelle ligne est-ce que je devrais prendre pour obtenir à XXXXX ?
(Which line should I take to to get to XXXX?)

Combien ?
(How much?)

Svp, pouvez-vous m'aider ?
(Please, can you assist me?)

Quand a-t-il lieu le dernier train ?
(When is the last train?)

Combien de temps prendra-t-il pour y arriver ?
(How long will it take to get there?)

Nous ne soutenons pas le Président Bush. Nous pensons qu'il est un idiot dangereux.
(We do not support President Bush. We think he is a dangerous idiot.)

That should just about cover it, right?

Outclassed

The 2005 Koufax Nominees for Blogs Deserving of Wider Recognition are up, and lo and behold, there I am on a list with some lefty luminaries. I've visited all the blogs that start with numbers or the letter A, and there is some good stuff out there.

I can't vote for myself yet, but I'll let you know whether I do.

Why I'm not blogging about anything important

I have been in news avoidance mode recently, preferring to read my news filtered through the snarky and smart left-wing bloggers these days. Today, I was driving home from work, and I didn't want to listen to the R.E.M. cd that Loki left in the player, so I listened to 3 minutes of NPR. I happened to tune in during Nina Totenberg's report on the Judicial Committee vote today, and Sen. Lindsay Graham (R-Shithole) got me so angry that I gave myself an instant headache and probably raised my blood pressure to unhealthy levels.

I just kept flashing back to when Clarence Thomas was approved for his seat on the court. I cried for hours and wore black for a week - I was in mourning. I feel even worse about a possible Justice Alito, because the court will be packed with weasels, and Ruth Bader Ginsberg ain't getting any younger.

Things that inexplicably piss me off

I'm not an anti-technology person. I was an early adopter of the internet, back in the early 90's, when you could actually look at every single homepage that existed. But I find that I seem to be a member of an ever diminishing group of people: people who don't need to constantly be reachable.

Everywhere I go now, I see people: businessmen, teenagers, soccer moms, etc. wearing these godamn earpiece things. I can't fully articulate *why* they piss me off (is it the implied importance of the person - so important that they cannot be out of range? is it because they look so stupid? is it because this isn't really The Matrix and we don't need to have access to phone lines to leap back to reality? Maybe it's all of those reasons.)



I meant to complain about these at Christmas time. I was at my younger sister's house, and we were talking about stupid gifts, and I said "you know what really makes me sick?" and she immediately said "chocolate fountains, and you're so right, they're disgusting", because she's smart and classy.

Overheard at the grocery store

A Muslim woman in hijab in the beverage aisle, as she was talking to a younger woman: "oy vey!"

storytime

Tonight I went to the Reader's Theater production at Sio's school. Two years ago, the Reader's Theater did their first production, Orwell's Animal Farm. Last year, they did a tribute to Dr. Seuss, which included both stories and poems penned by Dr. Suess as well as a Suessified version of Romeo & Juliet. Tonight, the theme was "Read Me A Story". They did a David Sedaris story, Shakespearean sonnets (Sio read 2 of them), a Lake Wobegon story, Mark Twain's War Prayer, a chapter of Harry Potter (read by my favorite freshman, K., a young man who is going to be something fantastic and incredible, whatever he does). Sio read Vonnegut's Harrison Bergeron, and, in my usual style, I got all choked up to see my child be so commanding on stage.

After the show was over, I watched Sio work her way through the crowds. I heard one person tell Sio he didn't even notice anyone else was on stage, she was so luminous. She is so poised, and so beautiful...I just find her amazing. I'm sitting in my folding metal chair, 36 years old and yet feeling as awkweird as I did when I was a freshman in high school, watching my 16 year old schmooze and smile and hug and graciously accept many compliments, and I feel kind of pleased, as a parent, that she is maneuvering her way through her teen years gaining confidence with every step. Then I remember that my main strength as Sio's parent has been to stay out of her way, and just let Sio be Sio.

GOP is corrupt, Deborah Howell can bite me, Bush sucks

Just wanted to remind everyone of my stance on some of the issues of the day.

I'm in full-bore vacation planning mode, which is why I haven't posted much. After many exhausting hours spent in front of the computer searching for good hotel deals, I decided to go in an entirely different direction and see if we could find a vacation rental. I hit some paydirt there, and now I'm trying to drag an opinion out of Loki about which vacation rental he likes best, and then I'll make the decision. (In fact, I may have already made the decision - I found a 2 BR apartment in the 13th arrondissement - but on the border of the 5th, for $480, which includes internet. 2 BRs is key - many of the places in our price range are studios, and that won't do, because I plan to get lucky while I'm in the City of Lights.)

Monkey is starting a Conversational French class today, which is just a beautiful coincidence - they are offering it for free at her school. I have dusted off my 7th grade quarter of French (Quelle heur est? Parlez vous anglais? Je m'appelle Maureen. Je non parle pas francais. Fermez le bouche!) As usual, my pronuciation est bon, but my comprehension est mal. Thankfully, Loki took French for 4 years and he remembers everything, and Sio speaks and comprehends very well.

5 Weird Things About Me

As seen on Shakespeare's Sister and Some Watery Thoughts:

1. As a child, I was terrified of vacuum cleaners, fireworks, and the car wash. When my mother vacuumed, I would not allow my feet to touch the floor, even if I was in a different room. In the case of the last item, whenever my mother would go through the car wash, I would cower on the floor of the car with my eyes closed.

2. I can't sleep in a bed if any of the blankets or sheets are tucked in.

3. I can't wear watches - every watch I've ever owned has stopped working within 30 days. I think it's some kind of electromagnetic thing.

4. I don't wear any jewelry, not even my wedding ring. I think jewelry is lovely, I love buying it for my sisters, but it drives me nuts when I wear it.

5. I don't get grossed out too easily, but wet paper makes me dry heave. That's why I won't use public restrooms unless I'm absolutely desperate.

This is not right

It's 11:36 p.m. on January 13, 2006, and it's 55 degrees Fahrenheit outside. In New England.

Sio went out with her best friend tonight, and I had to go pick her up. I thought it was raining out, but it was just the snow and ice melting.

Land Grab 2006

The victims of Katrina are going to get screwed again.

At a meeting with the city's rebuilding commission, reports CBS News correspondent Jim Acosta (video), Mayor Ray Nagin sent shockwaves through the Big Easy Wednesday, laying out a plan that gives the hardest hit wards just four months to prove they can survive. Neighborhoods that cannot justify their continued existence will be bought out and demolished.

Four months. My boss had a room added on to her house. It took about 6 months for all the work to be finished. My sister-in-law and her husband renovated their kitchen. Since they both worked, they had to work on weekends. It took the better part of a year for all the work to be complete. Yet they are expecting neighborhoods - the neighborhoods that were hit the worst - to be functioning in four months, even though most residents haven't even returned yet. The article says demographers say that only a quarter of the former residents have returned. But what would they return to?

In New Orleans, many neighborhoods are still abandoned wastelands, with uninhabitable homes, no working street lights and sidewalks piled with moldy garbage. The levee system is as vulnerable as ever.

The land grab is set up. How can people who have been devastated by Katrina manage to do this impossible feat? These are people who have lost everything. They are living in far away states. They still need to feed, house, and clothe themselves, so they are probably working in their new locations. But I'd wager a lot of them would like to come back to their homes.

Oh, the last paragraph of the article sheds some light on who might be the beneficiary of this land grab:

Before returning to Washington Thursday night, the president planned to attend a Republican National Committee fundraiser at the sprawling oceanfront estate of Dwight Schar in Palm Beach, Fla. Schar is CEO of NVR Homes, a major homebuilder and mortgage banking company, and co-owner of the Washington Redskins football team. He raised more than $200,000 for Mr. Bush's re-election campaign.

I've written and called

And now I'm an atheist in a foxhole, who is praying that the Dems on the Senate Judiciary Committee do the right thing, which is to defeat Alito. I have two daughters, and they must not live in a country that does not trust them to make their own choices about their lives.

If it's Tuesday, this must be Belgium

Well, we bought our tickets, and we're headed to Paris on February 15. This will be the longest vacation we've ever taken, 2/15 through 2/27. We will only have a limited time in Paris, and then we're going to Ireland, where we will be relying on the kindness of strangers, but mostly strangers who are related to me and therefore seem eager to put us up without receiving any compensation.

I don't know if I've mentioned this here before, but Loki can be a difficult travel companion. The last time we traveled abroad, he was reticent during the planning stages and then was irritated when we didn't have time in the schedule to do everything he wanted to do.

This time, he's more engaged in the planning, but he doesn't seem to fully comprehend that as long as this vacation will be, it is still a short time, and we won't be able to do everything he wants. This morning, he was suggesting that we leave Ireland early (on 2/23), go to England, catch a Ryanair flight to the Netherlands, where he has an online buddy, fly back to England, stay with my cousin Eileen overnight, then take the Chunnel back to Paris, explore the city for 12 hours, stay in a hotel near the airport, and then fly home. As much as I'd like to travel the world, I don't want to run the Amazing Race with him.

Loki has never fully grasped how time passes, and he always underestimates how long it takes to get from one place to another, which is why he gets speeding tickets nearly every other month - he's always in a hurry because he's always running late. And he complains about always being in a hurry, but he never acknowledges that he has some power over the situation.

I suggested that we should figure out what we want to do while we're in Ireland, and figure out from there whether we will have the time to do anything else.

Power and Money

I've been reading a lot of blog posts about Abramoff in the past few days. I've read some of the wingers, whose main thrust is "dems did it, too!", and I've been reading a lot of different takes from some of my favorite bloggers (Driftglass had a brilliant take, IMO), and my own opinion is that it doesn't matter how much money the corrupt politicians give back, because it doesn't address the two-headed beast of power and money, which inevitably leads to corruption.

Blah

I've been having a bad 24 hours, but not horribly bad, just totally unexceptional but really annoying stuff.

It started last night. I took dinner out of the oven, and began walking toward the kitchen counter, which was the only flat surface available, because I'm a slob and I still have not dealt with my dining room, which is suffering from my Christmas Eve wrapping extravaganza.

Dinner never made it to the counter, though, because I tripped and dropped the pizza (because Thursday is choir night so dinner has to be fast and preferably made by someone else, although this one was made by me) flat on it's face.

Then there was the toilet thing, and Paul, I e-mailed you a description of the problem, thank you for offering your help. And Loki still hasn't gotten his vacation approved, and now he's mentioning all the practical things we could do with $2200.00, and I'm having a hard time countering any of them, although I keep coming back to the fact that sinking $2200 into our house, as he is suggesting, would maybe solve a few minor problems, but would be just a drop in the bucket. The bucket is the probably $30,000 we need to spend to get our house in the kind of shape the appraiser seems to think it is actually in. But $2200 for a trip to Europe would be complete, and we would have all these lovely memories, whereas spending $2200 on the house would probably mean we'd have to do the work, and working with Loki is...excruciatingly frustrating. (I'm fast, he's slow, I'm a just get it done kind of person, he's a perfectionist, I have physical issues with manual labor because of my bad hip, he ends up getting frustrated because he has to pick up my slack.)

Anyway, back to the bad-but-not-too-bad stuff.

When I got home from choir, I remembered that tomorrow was the holiday party at work, and I volunteered to make a chocolate dessert. I had the necessary ingredients available to make a chocolate hazelnut gateau, so I got started. I ground the hazelnuts and put them in the oven to toast. I grabbed the hand mixer so I could cream the butter and sugar together. And the hand mixer is not working. Turns out Sio burnt out the motor making something that was much too dense to be mixed with a hand mixer. So then I'm looking around for an alternative. I end up putting the butter and sugar into a the blender. Sio comes into the kitchen and says "Oh, it smells like popcorn in here!", and I remember, too late, the hazelnuts, which have toasted to a rich chocolatey black color. Into the trash they go. It takes a while to cream butter and sugar in a blender, by the way.

I also had to hand beat three egg whites into soft peaks, so I feel like I have new muscles in my right arm today.

I get everything mixed together and into the pan, and pop it into the oven for 25 minutes. When the buzzer goes off, I check it, and the cake is still wet in the middle. I leave it in for 7 minutes, and when I check it again, it's overcooked. Oh well, I like my co-workers, but not that much, so overcooked cake it will be.

At work today, my boss told me that she wanted me to mail something out to the 62 members of a particular council, and I was halfway through collating the copies when she popped her head in and said "Oh, you could have just e-mailed it."

By the time I e-mailed everything, I was the only person left in the office; the person I intended to ride to the party with left while I was making copies. So I called Loki, and he said he would come, but it took him an hour and a half to get there because he sat down on the couch and took a nap first. And I felt so forgotten and unwanted that I had a good cry at my desk.

Loki eventually showed up (a pattern of behavior of his, eventually showing up - my sister said she would either divorce him or kill him if she had to live with him, as much as she adores him), and we went to the party and actually had a good time. I got booze in the Yankee swap, and we left the party, picked up Monkey, and went home, where Loki fell asleep on the couch and I fell asleep on the loveseat while Monkey practiced doing cartwheels and splits in the living room.

Of course, I slept too long, and now I'm awake.

added to blogroll

Jill Soloway wrote some of my favorite episodes of Six Feet Under. And she has a blog!

See, this is why I need a vacation

create your own visited countries map
or vertaling Duits Nederlands

create your own visited states map
or check out these Google Hacks.

These are the states that I've visited. Pretty paltry, eh?

Found at Two Glasses

Crap

Loki still hasn't heard from his boss about his vacation request, and tonight, one of our toilets was behaving in a disagreeable manner, so we may have to scale back our vacation so we can give money to a plumber. Crap, crap, crap.

Paris to Ireland

Well, that's what we're aiming for, anyway. Loki and I both have a ton of vacation built up, so now we're waiting to see if we can take a big chunk of it in February.

Thus far, if everything works the way it should, this trip will cost us about $2200.00 (which is a bargain, considering that the trip is 11 days for 4 people - of course, this is primarily due to the fact we won't be staying in hotels while in Ireland), which is money that we could certainly spend in more practical ways, but probably wouldn't. Loki is working overtime over the next couple of weeks, and we were frugal at Christmas, so we have the cash to pay for it up front.

Fingers crossed that we both get the vacation time we requested.

UPDATE: I'm good to go! Maybe I'll just buy tickets for me and the girls, and let Loki buy his when he gets the okay from his job. If they give him a hard time, I'm going to be pissed as hell, because the man has taken 5 vacation days in the total of 10 years he's worked there.

I wonder....

I wonder how many fans of Larry the Cable Guy and his now annoyingly popular saying "Git R Done" are also proponents of making English the official language of the U.S.?

I need a vacation

I'm dreaming of sandy beaches and foreign lands. I'm feeling anxious and upset these days, and I don't really have a reason (other than the usual) for it, so I am going to assume it's because I need a vacation.

Clan Maurinsky was actually thinking about heading to the Grand Canyon for February vacation this year, but it's not going to work - we can afford to either go there or have a place to stay there, but not both at the same time. We are also contemplating heading overseas, which actually costs less airfare-wise, but I'd rather have more time to plan a vacation like that, so we may push it off until next year (I'm thinking Ireland/England/Paris, 14 day trip. We'd only have to pay for accommodations in Paris, since I've got lovely family in Ireland and England. Wouldn't that be a hell of a graduation present for Sio?*)

So my second idea, which I haven't floated by the vacation committee yet, is a trip to the Kennedy Space Center, which would definitely get a thumbs up from Loki, but goes against my stand against spending money in a state governed by a Bush.

Then again, maybe I'll just stay put. My town is pretty damn awesome.

A New Year Beckons

A year or so I wrote out my resolution for 2005, which was to make my house neater. Alas, I failed miserably at that resolution. I should have resolved to get an A in math, but last January I hadn't even worked up the courage to take the placement test, let alone sign up for the class. The class in which I got an A, in case you didn't know.

I still like making resolutions, though. I love the possibility of a fresh start, even if I don't always take advantage of it. So here are my resolutions for 2006.

I resolve to lose weight. It's a cliche resolution, but since 2003, I've lost 50 lbs or so, and in the past month, I've gained back 15. I must reverse that trend.

I resolve to get rid of things we don't use. I believe that I get so overwhelmed when I attempt to organize because I have so much crap that I don't need.

I resolve to spend more time with my kids. 2006 will be the last year we are all together, and I want to make it a special one.

Like many things in my life, I feel like my blog has lost focus. I have to think a little bit more about what direction I will go in. We still have 3 more years of Bush (unless saner heads prevail and we impeach the bastard and his bastardly administration), and I'm sure further outrages to withstand. I will come back to this item after more thought.

If I don't talk to you (here or elsewhere) before then, please have a happy and safe New Year's Eve. The maurinsky family will be poolside, with certain members possibly imbibing a few girly drinks to ease in that extra second.

WOOHOO!!!!!!

Course: 30259 MAT* B075 H Prealgebra - Nmbr Sense, Geom
Campus: Main Student Body (CR & NonCR)
Grade: A

Yes, that's right, I got an A!!!!!!!!! I cannot believe it, I must have done well on the final exam.

I have never, in my entire life, gotten an A in a math class. Yes, it's remedial pre-Algebra, but I flunked pre-algebra when I took it in high school (that was the year I went to summer school...good times, actually.)

Okay, now I must celebrate.

Holiday: The Good, the Bad, the Ugly

The Good:

my father hasn't had a drink since before Thanksgiving
the kids are thrilled with their presents
my mother accepted a gift!!!!
my brother seems to have taken to fatherhood like a fish to water
my new niece is a doll
*on the ride home from the midnight service, I laughed harder than I have in years

The Bad:

no sleep
Loki is depressed about working on Christmas
Loki's family was cranky because even though we told them not to wait for us, they did, and we didn't get there till 4pm.
Sio loved her gift, but we have to go get another part for it to work
Monkey got $80 of gift certificates to Libby Lu, a store that I loathe

The Ugly:

Me, after no sleep
my dining room after being used as the gift wrapping center
Loki's mood - he is wallowing in his negative feelings
this version of 'O Holy Night' - although it did provide me with *huge laughs.

Seven things

From Sis:

Seven Things To Do Before I Die:

1. visit every continent
2. learn another language
3. be in a movie
4. publish a novel
5. be a great-grandmother (I plan to be very old)
6. have sex with someone other than Loki (just to see what it's like)
7. pass math (my grades haven't been posted yet)

Seven Things I Cannot Do:

1. Sit cross legged
2. remember to charge my cell phone
3. jump into the pool feet first
4. run
5. have voluntary surgery (no such thing in my world)
6. get a tattoo
7. get a tan

Seven Things That Attract Me to...Blogging

1. writing
2. swearing in front of my children without them hearing
3. lots to read
4. makes me feel less lonely
5. makes me more aware of what's happening in the world
6. helps me sharpen my debating skills
7. gives me stuff to think about


Seven Things I Say Most Often

1. "Monkey!" (only with her real name)
2. "Sio!" (only with her real name)
3. "Cugel!" (the dog)
4. "well," (I'd like to get rid of that one)
5. "you know,"
6. "hey" (it's an all-purpose word)
7. "shit"


Seven Books That I Love

1. A Prayer for Owen Meaney
2. The Adventures of Kavalier and Clay
3. Still Life With Woodpecker
4. Good Omens
5. Christopher Durang Explains It All For You
6. To Kill A Mockingbird
7. Edgar Allen Poe short stories


Seven Movies That I Watch Over and Over Again

1. Serenity
2. Galaxy Quest
3. Monty Python and the Holy Grail
4. Hedwig and the Angry Inch
5. High Fidelity
6. Amelie
7. Toy Story

Seven People I Want To Join In Too

Anyone who wants to

17 years ago

(Before I start, have you ever written an entire, brilliant post, only to accidentally delete it? Remember how perfect the deleted post was? That happened to this one, so remember, this is an inferior copy.)

I woke up, ran to the bathroom, and threw up. Morning sickness. Except I had morning, noon, and night sickness. I went to J.C. Penney, which was the closest store, and I picked out an off-white dress from the clearance rack. I think I spent $24.

I got home, took a bath in the chilly bathroom (no shower), and got dressed. Loki got out of the twin bed we shared (we were in loooovvve! who needed more than a twin?) and got dressed in his best suit.

There was ice and snow on the ground from a a storm, so we drove as quickly as we could without risking our lives. We were late, of course.

The wedding was held at a bar in Durham, CT; Loki's hometown. Our guest list was small: Loki, me, the Justice of the Peace, Loki's father, aunt, grandmother, sister and brother-in-law. I had only met them that summer, and got the distinct impression that they all thought I was going to ruin Loki's life. And I loathed his BIL, who, upon hearing that we were getting married, asked us (loudly) when the baby was due.

We weren't planning to keep the baby at that point, so I had no intention of telling anyone other than Loki that I was pregnant.

I've been to a lot of weddings. The bride and groom always seem nervous, but touched with a giddy excitement as well; Loki and are nervous, but touched with abject terror as well. The one thought that keeps running through my head is not that I'll mess up the vows or faint, but that I am quite possibly making the worst mistake of my life.

I don't remember the particulars. We said our vows, and Loki's dad bought lunch for everyone. I had chicken, which I threw up before we even left the restaurant. Loki and I went back to our apartment to change clothes and pick up the cake. I worked at a restaurant, and the guy we bought cakes from had heard I was getting married and made me a beautiful, one tier hazelnut cake, which turned out to be delicious, which made the cake the best part of the wedding.

We went over to Loki's dad's house for Christmas Eve, and I just about fell over when I saw the presents under the tree - there were so many, we practically couldn't get in the living room. We watched a video of the wedding - yep, the terror in my eyes was captured on tape. Loki and I looked at other, our expressions saying "we'll be taping over this one as soon as possible."

That was our wedding. It had all the hallmarks of disaster - a teenage, pregnant bride (I was 19); neither bride nor groom had a college degree (although Loki now has a BA in English); we had very little money, and very few prospects.

And yet. Somehow, here we are, still mostly happy. He drives me crazy sometimes, because he's never on time for anything, he gets speeding tickets practically every other month, he sometimes starts talking and doesn't stop for literally hours (one time, I made the mistake of asking him what happened on an episode of Star Trek: TNG. It took him longer to tell me what happened than the episode lasted, nearly two hours). He works at night and doesn't get enough sleep, which makes him crabby.

And I'm no picnic. I'm a slob, I have a foul temper, and I'm the worst back-seat driver ever. I spend too much time on the computer, I watch too much TV, I don't always stay on top of everything that's going on.

And yet. We have two beautiful daughters, we have a nice home (even if it is a little sloppy). He makes me laugh, I make him laugh; we like the same movies, we share the same values and political leanings. I don't believe in any of that soulmate crap; I'm sure Loki is just one of the people I could have ended up with happily, but I'm glad that we found each other.

Happy anniversary, Loki.

Poor me

I probably shouldn't post anything today, because I'm feeling sorry for myself. Loki has to work Christmas Eve, which is also our 17th anniversary, so he won't be home. He has to work New Year's Eve, too. I've been feeling kind of lonely, just because the holiday makes me think about all the people who I haven't kept in touch with (because I suck), many of whom I miss terribly. My older sister and my younger sister are having competing brunches, and the older one is angry that the younger one is encroaching on her holiday tradition (the younger one is oblivious to said holiday tradition, because the older one never invited us to her brunch). So Christmas morning, we'll be driving all over the place to make an appearance at ever Christmas.

And I still have presents to wrap. And of course, all of these are trivial complaints compared to so many people, that I feel guilty for the self-pity. Loki won't be home, but he's not in Iraq. I have to drive all over the place, but I have lots of places to drive to, and there are plenty of people who don't have anyplace to go, including their own home.

Five things about me

Stolen from the Tart.

1. I learned how to read before I turned 3.
2. I am the shortest person in my family (5'2") and at size 9, I have the smallest feet in my family, too. (Not counting Monkey).
3. When I was seven or eight years old, I was at my father's Irish club (a bar), and I sat on a set of dentures that someone had lost in their bar seat; the guy was so happy to get them back, he paid me $80, but my father used it for beer money.
4. I've never lived by myself.
5. When I was a senior in high school, I declared myself a lesbian, because at the time, I was madly in love with a woman, but I knew Loki was the guy for me the first time I saw him.

Nobody puts Dubya in the corner!

Driftglass slays me. True, his artistically enhanced Dubya is way more articulate that the real life version, but I'm all for artistic license when it's funny.

My head hurts

I think I popped a blood vessel in my brain, holding in my rage about the cowards who are defending George Bush's illegal domestic spying. And then I didn't help the situation any by reading about the strike in NYC. I know my friend The Fixer is against it, but I've gotta have solidarity, because anytime the worker is against the man, I'm going to side with the worker, who is invariably the one getting shafted. When other working class people take the side of the man, the man is one happy motherfucker, because there is nothing better than getting all the people you are screwing to fight against each other.

The workers in question get paid more than me, and get better benefits than me, and they can retire at 55. But I will defend them, because the amount of money the NYC economy is losing because of the strike can be correlated with the amount of value they get from these workers, who work in unpleasant and unhealthy conditions to keep the city moving.

Thanks, everyone

I finished my test early, went over it three times with the calculator, and now I'm home. I think I did okay. I started to panic when I wasn't sure how to figure out the first two questions, but I just skipped over them and went on to things I did know, and I figured out how to solve the first two after getting into the groove a little bit.

I think I can trace my mathphobia back to second grade. We had a subtraction worksheet, and I breezed through it. The teacher went around the room, having each student answer a question. I figured out which problem would be mine, so I would be sure to answer quickly (I was a huge dork in elementary school, major suck up teacher's pet type - although it was always sincere - I adored my teachers. You would have hated me, most likely).

So the teacher, Mrs. Johannsen, got to me, and I answered confidently. And she said "That's incorrect, Mr. Snider, can you answer the question?" And I stood up and told her that *she* must have the wrong answer, because it was not possible for *me* to be wrong. And then, the horrible, sinking, puking feeling that descended on me as I redid the problem and realized I was wrong. That was a horrible moment. Thus, my fear of math was born.

I've made a lot of progress on the subject of being wrong. I can say it with ease, which is good, because with the freaking brainiacs I live with, I have to say it more frequently than I would like.

Good vibes, good thoughts, prayers, sacrifice a goat...

If you could offer any of the above for me, I would appreciate it. Between 7:45 and 9:45 p.m. EST, I will be taking my math final exam. I did spend some time studying this weekend, but believe me, I need all the help I can get.

I'm a man, baby

Masculine You scored 53 masculinity and 46 femininity!

You scored high on masculinity and low on femininity. You have a traditionally masculine personality.

My test tracked 2 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 28% on masculinity You scored higher than 13% on femininity

Link: The Bem Sex Role Inventory Test written by weirdscience on Ok Cupid, home of the 32-Type Dating Test

Other ways I'm like a man: I hate asking for directions, I have to hold the remote control, and I'd rather have a frontal lobotomy than watch Lifetime.

P.S. I apologize for the Austin Powers reference. It won't happen again.

Overdue addition to the blogroll

Adventures of the Smart Patrol

I don't know why that's taken me so long.

Cowards and Scoundrels

I've had a busy couple of days, but I just spent about an hour and a half tooling around the blogosphere, reading all about Bush's spying eyes.

What really got me feeling riled up was heading over to Pam's House Blend, where she somehow manages to survive Freeperland to dig up their response to the belated revelation made by the New York Times.

Is there anything more cowardly than being a Freeper? Everything they stand for grows out of their fear - fear of the other, fear of change, fear of loss, fear of pain, fear of looking bad, fear of embarassment - I'm amazed any of them leave their houses everyday. I'm not surprised they like guns, because when you're as scared as they are, every other person out there must seem like a threat. And I'm not surprised they support scoundrels like George W. Bush, because they'd rather have a strongman dictatorship than a democracy, and we know that Bush, who is both a scoundrel and a coward, loves the idea of a dictatorship. As long as he gets to be the dictator.

They don't even understand what makes America great, for all their flag waving. If they were standing in front of Solomon, they'd be the mother who would be okay with cutting the baby in half, as long as they get what's their's. "Break the laws, Mr. Bush?" they'd say, "rip that Constitution in half? Okay with us, as long as we feel safer!"

Cowards and scoundrels, the lot of them, as well as the politicians they support.

Our Sis is hitting the big time

Check it out:

OUT OF TOWN....I'll be on vacation for the next few days, but I've roped in a couple of wonderful guest bloggers to handle the site while I'm gone: Hilzoy from Obsidian Wings and Shakespeare's Sister from her eponymous blog.

That's from Kevin Drum. I can't wait to see how the trolls react to someone who isn't as moderate or accommodating as they are accustomed to at Political Animal.

A teenage rite of passage

Sio is not a typical teenager. She is friendly and smiles and says hello to everyone, she helps out around the house without being asked, she manages a serious academic workload while participating in tons of afterschool activities, and she never gives me the thing that some people describe as "lip" or "sass" (I say some people because those are not words I can use in the way they are supposed to be used - let's just say that she doesn't have a bad attitude or a rebellious nature.)

But now she's hit a teenage rite of passage. Not driving a car (because we can't afford to add a teenager, even an honor student, to our insurance). Not staying out after curfew, because she doesn't have a curfew (more inappropriate mothering, I'm sure, but she's a responsible kid and she's never stayed out as late as I did when I snuck out of the house as a teenager). Not smoking or drinking or having sex.

No, she is (along with several friends) starting a band. They have their first rehearsal after school tomorrow.

The inappropriate mother

When Sio was about 4 years old, (which made me a mere 23)I was cast in a production of Hair at the Hole In The Wall Theater in New Britain, CT. I had quite a few solos in the production, including the lead on both Aquarius and Black Boys. I practiced around the house, and that's why Sio went to pre-school and taught the other kids how to sing "Black boys are delicious, chocolate flavored love! Lips like licorice candy, keep my cocoa handy, I have such a sweet tooth when it comes to love."

I was definitely an inappropriate mother. I wasn't totally irresponsible - we never listened to Sodomy, and she couldn't keep track of all the letters in LBJ, so she never put together the L-S-D lyric. And although she came to rehearsal with me, she never saw the nude scene (although I did, in fact, participate in the nude scene, which is why I can say that nearly 2000 complete strangers have seen me buck naked.)

I was older and more mature when I had Monkey. I gave up the theater because Monkey was such a demanding baby - unlike Sio, who would sit and color for hours, Monkey demands that I devote all my attention to her!

But I have lapsed a little, just a smidge, into inappropriateness. For her bedtime story for the past few nights, I've been reading Monkey chapters of David Sedaris books. Tonight, we read Six To Eight Black Men from Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim, since it's Christmassy. Tomorrow, I'll probably pull out the Santaland Diaries, and maybe this will be our new family tradition.

Oh, yeah, that will help

No one is going to get peace in the Middle East for Hanukkah this year.

One down

I drank 36 oz. of water before 9am this morning, another 36 before noon, and another 36 by 5 p.m.

But the church was really dry tonight, so I planned to keep a bottle of water with me during the concert. Except that I left my water in the choir loft, and I sat in my seat, each song bringing me closer to my solo, each moment my mouth getting more and more dry.

I was not pleased with how my solo went. This self-loathing thing is hard to get over. We had a bunch of guest singers, and I felt like they were mocking me when they congratulated me on doing a good job...that can't be normal, can it?

Anyway, the audience ate it up with a spoon, and several people specifically came over to tell me how wonderful I was. One woman told me it was the highlight of the concert. That's nice to hear.

Tomorrow night I get to be in the audience, so that will be a nice change.

My week in music

Since I spent most of my day either singing or listening to music, I thought I would share another link, to a local band called Farewell to Arms. The keyboardist is a friend/acquaintance*, and they will be touring in January, so do check them out. I've only heard this one song thus far, but I keep coming back to it, and I am going to buy their CDs after the holiday season, when I cash all my choir checks. .

I spent most of my day at two Roundtable concerts, which means a concert performed by the Roundtable Singers of Manchester High School. They are an excellent ensemble, and Sio sings in the alto section. The first concert was at the Manchester Historical Society, which was not the greatest space for music, particularly with the very loud heating system that kept going on and off, and limited space.

The second space was divine - the 50 or so voice chorus sounded like 500 voices in the sanctuary of the First Congregational Church of Vernon.

Tomorrow night is the dress rehearsal for the South Church Christmas Concert. I met with the director and the bass player on Saturday to practice my solo. I was not terribly warmed up, the sanctuary was freezing cold, and I held back a little. The director was pleased with my pitch, but asked me if I could be "more black". I did not ask her to define what that means.

Tuesday night I have a dress rehearsal for my Madrigal choir concert, which I will be leaving early to head to the South Church concert. Fingers crossed that I am sufficiently black for my solo.

Wednesday night, Sio has another concert, this time with the Chorale, the school's female chorus, and several other vocal and instrumental ensembles. Thursday night is our regular choir night, but we'll probably be off, since next week's service is the children's Christmas pageant. That means that Saturday morning, I have to bring Monkey to church at 10am so she can practice her solo.

Friday night is my madrigal choir concert. I'm not in love with anything we're singing, and we certainly have some weaknesses as an ensemble, but I love singing madrigals, so I'm planning to have a good time.

To recap: check out the link, buy the CD, and join me in wishing my voice holds out, that the frequent handwashing will keep me from getting sick, and that my freaking allergies go back into hiding.

*I'm a New Englander, it's hard to make friends.

The Big One

In addition to my constant musical companions Ben Folds and Rufus Wainwright, another musical artist I love deeply is Nellie McKay. Her debut album, Get Away From Me, was incredibly inventive, with genre hopping songs (disco, torch song, rap, etc.) that were piano driven. I picked up her first CD after reading a review of a show, where mention was made of two things that piqued my interest: that she was very funny and politically progressive.

I was hooked after listening to the first three songs - I had the CD for about 2 months before I listened beyond that point. On the basis of the first three songs, I bought a copy of the CD for my older sister, who I knew would love it. She called me later that week and told me "I love her. She's a headcase, but I think that's why I love her."

Nellie's second CD is coming out in January, but you can preview one of her songs, The Big One, about a tenant's right activist, at Nellie's website. If you don't like it at first, give it a little time and listen again - it's unusual sounding, certainly, that Doris Day voice with a hip-hoppish accompaniment, but there's something good there.

I can live without Wal-Mart and Target

But lord help me if I can't get my medium regular at Dunkin' Donuts.

Yes, that's my head in the sand

There is so much crap going on right now, that I hardly know where to begin. The U.S. is torturing people. Ford Motor Company has decided to embrace the religious right. The military is lying to the families of dead soldiers*. A deal was reached to extend the Patriot Act. The most retarded "War On..." something reaches new levels of stupidity with each passing day.

So I'm going to talk about food and Project Runway.

Food:
We had two Thanksgivings this year, one with my FIL, where we had a 14 lb bird, and one with my sister, where we had an 18 lb. bird. Since there we didn't make a bird, we only got limited leftovers. So I went out and bought a turkey last weekend. The store only had 4 birds left, and they were all 25 lbs. So I bought a 25 lb. turkey for the 4 people in my family. That's 6.25 lbs of turkey for each of us. It's worked out brilliantly so far - I've made turkey quesadillas, turkey pot pie (instead of using a pie crust, I used a popover recipe - really enjoyable), and a casserole with mashed potatoes, peas and corn, turkey, gravy and stuffing. I think I'm going to make Turkey pie a la Shepherd's pie tonight. For lunch today, I had some of the leftover casserole, and the turkey just tastes better with each passing day.

Project Runway:
I don't know exactly how come I started watching this last season, but I got hooked, and it looks like Season 2 will be just as good. The designers I took a shine to after watching the audition videos (Emmett, Raymundo, Daniel Vosovic) haven't really shone very much - yet - and the judges get input from Bravo before they announce winners, which means sucky designers (like last year's Wendy Pepper) get to stay around simply for the drama, not because of talent; and so far, the best designer also happens to be a massive dick. Still, as someone who is fashion impaired, I am always amazed at the designs the people come up with. (I'm also grammatically impaired, apparently).

*hat tip Shakespeare's Sister

You've got to be fucking kidding me.

I accidentally turned on the radio on my way to school this evening, and I heard the most hilarious joke on NPR. Apparently, Al-Jazeera aired a video of an American who has been taken hostage. The comedian telling the story on NPR said that George Bush said we do not pay for hostages, and that we would use our intelligence gathering to determine the location where the hostage is being held.

Couldn't you die from laughing? I mean, after the whole WMD thing, surely it had to be a joke. Right? Right?

Wrong.

"We, of course, don't pay ransom for any hostages," Mr. Bush said.

"What we will do, of course, is use our intelligence-gathering to see if we can't help locate them," Mr. Bush said.

I'm sure the family of Ronald Schultz must be feeling very optimistic about the outcome of this situation.

More Math Success

Tonight in class, our teacher handed back all the homework assignments we handed in over the course of the semester.

My heart did backflips as I collected my assignments. 100%. 100%. 100%. 100%.

I'm really pleased, because I did all the math myself and only used the calculator to doublecheck my answers and help me figure out any mistakes I made.

I'm starting to feel a little bit of confidence, now. I did a practice exam this weekend and my main weakness is fractions, followed by ratios and percentages.

In addition, I am positively giddy because I have only one more math class before my exam. I'm supposed to have two more madrigal classes, but we're expecting snow tonight, so I'll have to wait and see if the snow falls and if school gets cancelled.

Jesus Joy!

Over in the comments thread for this post, and commenter rayceeya wrote:

I went to that way of th master site and found I'm directly guilty of breaking nine out of ten commandments. I guess I'm going to hell anyway.

which reminded me of a conversation Monkey and I had today. We had a candidate for Senior Minister preaching today, and he said that if you tell one lie, you're a liar. If you ever take something that doesn't belong to you, you're a thief; if you have ever taken the Lord's name in vain (and he told us he knew we did since we are in Red Sox territory), then you are a blasphemer.

At lunch, Monkey and I were joking around, and I told her she was a liar, a thief and a blasphemer. She replied "Hey, I'm not a thief!" Oh, she makes me laugh.

Monkey is a firm believer in Jesus Christ as her Savior, and in God in general, which makes her the only non-heretic(k) in the house. She hasn't been going to church, though, because of two unpleasant things happening at the same time: 1. They stopped funding the Children's Music program; and 2. She witnessed a minister from a different church that rents space from South Church slap a girl in the face. She reported the guy, and the group is no longer at the church, but I don't think he ever faced any criminal charges (he's a real smooth talker, this fellow. Slick as a willy).

Anyway, the Director of Children's Education kept calling and asking Monkey to come back, and they finally swayed her by reminding her that the Christmas pageant is coming up. The girl loves a pageant. So she came back to church this week, and she was welcomed like the prodigal son, and she even got a solo in the pageant (she is really a terrific singer).

At South Church, they do an Intergenerational message, where they call the kids forward and do a sermon just for them. Rev. Heretic used to open with a series of knock-knock jokes, one of the many reasons I miss him every Sunday. Today, the person who was supposed to do the sermon didn't make it to church, so this really annoying member who sticks her nose into absolutely everything wrote up a sermon for one of the choir members to read.

This was during our rehearsal, in the morning before the service starts. The choir member who was drafted to deliver the Intergenerational Message came up to the choir loft, and she relayed that annoying member wanted her to say the following:

You know that excited feeling you get when someone opens a special present you made for them? I like to call that "Jesus Joy!"

Oh. my. fucking. god. I had tears pouring out of my eyes I was laughing so hard. I could never be a Christian, because I could never believe myself if those words came out of my mouth. My inner cynic would be rolling her eyes, telling me I was full of shit.

Anyway, the phrase Jesus Joy has already, in less than 24 hours, become a catch phrase in our house. I made a nice dinner today, and John told me that eating it filled him with Jesus Joy. We rented Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and Sio declared that Johnny Depp must have been filled with Jesus Joy to pull off that performance.

I hope it goes away soon, because it's starting to lose the ability to make me laugh.

5 true stories and 1 explanation for why they will continue to be told

R. was 13 years old. Her father had abandoned her and her mother, so she would come home to the empty apartment after school. It was an older guy who lived in the apartment complex who did it. He was probably in his early 30's. She never reported him, because she felt like she had done something wrong, maybe even flirted with him a little bit. Since her virginity was gone, she decided she was going to have sex with whomever and whenever she wanted. She even worked in a brothel.

T. had an ideal upbringing - two parents who loved her and treated her with respect. She was innocent and naive, and a devout Catholic. It was her boyfriend who did it. She believed in waiting until marriage, and firmly but lovingly said no. But he did it anyway. She never reported him, because she was so ashamed that she would not enter into her marriage as a virgin. She felt tainted, and would not have another relationship until she was in her late 30s.

K. was a quiet child in a loud, boisterous family. She was painfully shy and would hardly talk to anyone. It was her father who did it. She never reported him, because who would believe her? How could she even say the words when she couldn't say simple ones, like "Hello". She got married in her early 20s, because that's what she was supposed to do, and she had children, but she could never hug her children or tell them she loved them.

K2 was kind of a wild kid. She liked going out drinking and having sex with her boyfriends, she even had a one night stands from time to time. It was a friend of her brothers who did it. She never reported him because she figured she shouldn't have had those drinks, so she just got what she deserved.

L. was 14 years old. Her father had passed away recently, and she was a mess. It was her boyfriend who did it. She never reported him, because she knew he had bragged about it at school, and she didn't want to lose him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

These are the stories of five of the women I know who were raped.

Here is a story that offers an explanation for why these stories will continue to be told, for why there will continue to be women and children who do not report it when someone violates their body.

I don't know what else to say. The way this poor woman has been treated by the so-called justice system is abominable. The entitlement of the dicks who did this to her is nauseating. The cruelty with which the judge has treated her is reprehensible.

All the time I've wasted....

I was reading Pica's Dear John letter to the butternut squash, and I started thinking about my own food history.

As a child, I was beyond picky. I wouldn't eat cheese, mustard made me feel queasy, and I actually threw up when I accidentally ingested a pickle. And don't get me started on vegetables. The only veggie I would eat without a fight was the potato, and then only if it was in french fried form. When forced to eat peas, I would swallow them whole as quickly as I could, lest I accidentally catch a taste of the veggie. I cried when my mother put carrots on my plate. I wouldn't even taste corn. I think I went a whole year of my life (possibly longer) where the only thing I would eat was Cheerios and ham on white bread.

When I moved out of my parents house and started doing my own cooking, I suddenly realized that the reason I hated vegetables was because my mother is the worst cook in the history of the world. (Seriously - we ate boiled chicken in our house. Boiled. chicken.)

So I could never write a dear John letter like Pica. All of my letters to food would be passionate love letters. Dear Pineapple - I weep copious tears when I think of all the years I refused to taste your succulent sweetness. Dear green pepper, I ignored you for long, but finally my eyes have opened and I see your natural beauty.

But I will never eat a lima bean. Cause they are just gross.