When you've lost Mel Gibson....

you've really only lost the nutso Aussie fundamentalist Catholic contigent, but still:

Mel Gibson on the similarity between the brutal, human-sacrifice-ordering Mayan rulers in his new movie, "Apocalypto," and the current White House administration: "The fear-mongering we depict in the film reminds me of President Bush and his guys."

via Salon

If Crazy Mel can see what Bush and his guys are doing, maybe, just maybe, there is hope for this country after all.

short list

I have an appointment first thing in the morning with a therapist, and since I have been less than honest with past therapists, I decided to write down everything that I'm feeling right now, so I can hold myself accountable -- and bring the list with me tomorrow so I can remind myself of what's bothering me even though my urge to put the best possible spin on things will be overwhelming.

- child of abusive alcoholic
- unhappy
- cannot focus or remember things
- feel detached
- no energy
- can't deal with day to day living
- can't think clearly
- feeling very Flowers for Algernon - like I get more stupid every day
- restlessness
- stressed out
- let minor problems become crises before I can muster up the energy to deal with them
- rarely have fun anymore (must qualify - I have fun sometimes, but it's not necessarily in the situation I would have chosen)
- unable to make small talk
- trouble controlling my temper, particularly over small things
- no social life outside of family activities
- no fun - used to have hobby (community theater) that brought me a great deal of pleasure and meaning, and I cannot engage in it anymore because of my declining physical condition, preponderence of familial obligations and lack of support
- overeating
- no self-confidence
- used to be good at some activities (creative writing), but I've lost whatever gift I once had
- feel invisible, unwanted, unacknowledged, or only noticed for negative things

I'm taking bets: how many years of therapy will I need to feel better?

A thoughtful gift

My nieces & nephew (although probably more accurately my sister-in-law) bought me a very thoughtful gift: a new, shiny cane. Unlike my boring wooden cane, this one is black with red dragons painted on it, and the handle is a dragon head. It's very spiffy, and I shall use it as my evening cane.

I am now a bigger part of the problem

Since I'm on a roll with self-centered posts, I will share with you that I am now a bigger part of the problem - the problem being the west's reliance on fossil fuels.

You see, for the first time in my 36 years, I am the owner of my very own car, one that is registered in my name and everything. I can't help but feel guilt about putting another set of wheels on the road, but underneath that, I'm excited.

My platonic crush

In real life, I think I must come across as extremely laid back, confident, easy-going, low maintenance, nonchalant, etc. I assume this is the case because other people tend to take me for granted, in a way - they don't worry about me or try to keep me entertained or soothe me with words about how fabulous I am. But inside my mind, I am extremely needy and desperately crave attention and love and adoration from others, even though all those things also make me feel embarassed.

Anyway, the target I currently feel almost desperately in need of attention from is my madrigals teacher (MT). He's just a lovely man. He seems to know exactly how other people in the class need to be treated - the same kids who were shaking in their boots last semester have gained so much confidence. After class lets out, MT is always surrounded by a swarm of my fellow students, all of whom seem to have no problem seeking attention from him.

And I always slink out of the classroom without saying a word, even though I would like to swarm around him and chit-chat, talk politics, maybe go out to coffee with him, or invite him to sing with my choir at our pops concert, or something...

It's a totally platonic crush. I am not sexually attracted to him and I harbor no romantic feelings towards him, I just want to be friends with him, and I can't even figure out how to make friends anymore.

Current State of my Mental Health

If my mental health were a state, it would be Ohio -- teetering on the brink of destruction. I'm not feeling suicidal or anything drastic like that*, but I'm contemplating a nervous breakdown, and it looks better to me than the day to day drudgery of my life.

I have reached a point where I am nearly completely non-functional. I can't muster the energy to sweep the floor or wash the dishes or cook dinner. All I want to do is escape - watch TV, read a book, get on the computer, get in the car and get the hell out - but of course, I bring myself with me, so the problems never go away.

I need professional help, but I've been to therapy before and found it unhelpful. Largely because I bring myself to therapy, and I don't seem to have any power over myself - I remain unable to motivate myself to change.

This probably sounds like it's coming out of nowhere (unless you read my dream interpretation post), and I will admit that I have better than average coping skills, but everything feels like it's falling apart.

If I do end up going to therapy, how can I force myself to be totally honest? I have a tendency to put the best possible spin on my life when I talk to others, and it's a hard habit to break. I was taught to keep secrets at my mothers knee. I know that being aware of a problem is the first step towards solving it, but I have a history of being unable to take a second step.

*On the contrary -- I want to LIVE! and I feel like I'm not really doing that.

Save the Internet

Adam Green says:

The only way to protect Net Neutrality is for Congress to take action now, as it re-writes our nation's telecom laws. Senators Olympia Snowe (R-ME) and Byron Dorgan (D-ND) and Representative Ed Markey (D-MA) have introduced legislation to do this. Mike McCurry and his clients like AT&T are fighting it tooth and nail.

If you are outraged, don't just sit there. First comment below, but then take these steps:

1. SIGN a Net Neutrality petition to Congress:

2. CALL Congress now:


3. BLOG about this issue, or put our "Save the Internet" logo on your Web site:


4. MYSPACE: Add "Save the Internet" as a friend:


5. WRITE A LETTER to Congress:


6. VISIT our coalition Web site for more information, SavetheInternet.com:

The big corporations are trying to steal the internet, and control the content we want to access. This is a bipartisan issue that affects *all* internet users. Basically, they want to limit our freedom to access whatever site we want and line their pockets while they're doing it. Net neutrality must remain in place.

Blogging against disablism

I missed blogging against disablism day yesterday, in part because I misinterpreted the term "disablism" on first glance, and wondered why people were against the disabled. Reading is fundamental!

Disability is going to be a featured player in my life and the lives of everyone in my family a few years down the road. In addition to my own functional disability caused by severe osteoarthritis (which will be cured, in effect, when I get my hip replaced, but will come back when the artificial hip fails, as it inevitably will), my younger sister (MYS) has severe rheumatoid arthritis. She is still in her 20's and already needs both her hips replaced, so it's not a question: she *will* be in a wheelchair when she gets older, as will I.

I worry about MYS from a medical/health/logistical perspective: how will she be able to pay for all her medications, just one of which costs over $1000 a month? Why won't she come to swimming lessons, so she can engage in the best exercise to keep her joints moving? How will she be able to get to the bathroom, which is 12 stairs away?

Loki always worries about MYS from a different perspective: who will love her and make sure she doesn't wither away in loneliness?

And both of those perspectives are important and necessary. And I don't have the answers to either one of them.

May Day

Is it a coincidence that May Day, aka International Workers Day, is not just a reminder of the contribution that the lowly workers of the world make, but a cry for help?

The United States of Colbertica...has a nice ring to it

Loki, Sio and I caught the re-run of Mr. Colbert at the White House Press Correspondent's Dinner. Brilliant, every moment. That was some motherfucking satire! And it was especially beautiful because Bush had to sit there and take it. I think it took Bush a while to figure out that he was actually being skewered, but he did not look happy once he did.

Colbert got a round of applause at our house, and a silent prayer that he not fly on any small planes.

Edited because a prayer can be silent, it can be whispered, but I don't think it can be both at the same time.

connections

If you are like me, you or someone in your household gets Scientific American delivered once a month. James Burke used to have a column in SA called "Connections", and I always enjoyed reading it because of the way he would pull together all kinds of interesting little tidbits.

Loki posted something over at my sister's blog (where I occasionally post) that reminds me of those Connections columns: he starts with Coke and ends up with Blake, and it all makes sense somehow.

And he probably knew what a macron was without looking it up.

Meme day via Shakespeare's Sister

Accent: My mother has Brooklynese lazy lips (think Archie Bunker); my father has an Irish brogue. I have no accent, though. Connecticut is where the first American dictionary was compiled, so I pronounce everything as it was intended to be pronounced ; )

Booze: I like girly drinks, and whiskey. Not together.

Chore I Hate: All of them. I feel put out by all chores. I guess running errands, e.g., grocery shopping, would be my least hated.

Dog or Cat: I love them both. I have a dog and two cats.

Essential Electronics: Computer, TV (see post about my best friend below)

Favorite Cologne: Don’t wear any.

Gold or Silver: Don't wear any jewelry

Hometown: Hebron, CT, but I now live in cosmopolitan Manchester, CT.

Insomnia: Occasionally.

Job Title: Secretary, alto section leader.

Kids: Two daughters who are gorgeous, intelligent, and funny.

Living Arrangements: Colonial with too many stairs, tiny yard, with forementioned dog, cats, daughters plus one husband.

Most Admirable Traits: Excellent sense of humor, good listener.

Number of Sexual Partners: one

Overnight Hospital Stays: Osteotomy surgery, age 1.5 - about a 30 day stay. Slipped epiphesis at age 10 - 8 day stay, 7 of them in traction. Childbirth, age 19 - 24 hour stay. Childbirth, age 27 - 48 hour stay

Phobias: The dentist, jumping feet first into a pool.

Quote:"The more you know, the more you know you don't know." Stephen Sondheim

Religion: raised Irish-Catholic, now religion free and loving it

Siblings: one older sister, 2 younger sisters, one younger brother

Time I Wake Up: 6:30 - 7:00 a.m., I always plan to sleep later on the weekend, but it doesn't happen.

Unusual Talent or Skill: I can levitate, juggle, whistle with a blade of grass and sing a low B...first thing in the morning, anyway.

Vegetable I Love: green peppers, red onions, white radish

Worst Habit: I don't know where to begin.

X-Rays: So many that my uterus probably glows in the dark - bad hip = many pelvic X-rays

Yummy Foods I Make: I make a great cucumber salad: lemon juice, feta cheese, cukes, red onions and dill. Let me know if you want the recipe

Zodiac Sign: Scorpio. Now you know why I'm so mysterious.

edited to remove some too specific information

Upsetting - anyone up for some dream interpretation?

I didn't sleep well last night. I had a bad day yesterday - I didn't eat all day long, and then Loki and I had an upsetting fight, and I think both of those contributed to my horrible dreams.

I have this recurring dream that always leaves me feeling disturbed. In this dream, I live in an apartment building, and somehow, I find myself helping a neighbor of mine who I've never met. He sends me an e-mail asking me to take out his garbage, and I run up to his apartment and take the trash out for him. But there is this unsettling feeling in my dream - I know there is something very off about this person, and there is something very wrong about helping this person I've never met.

While I'm in the dream, I feel like I'm under this person's spell - he's appealing to my desire to be helpful, but even as I'm carrying out the task he's asked me to help with, I feel like I'm participating in something terrible that my brain never acknowledges - at least not in my dream. When I'm awake, I speculate that this person is a serial killer and I'm taking out the trash that contains body parts of people he's sliced and diced, or something along those lines. And sometimes when I'm awake and I think about it, I wonder if this other person in my dream is actually just me. In my dream, I never meet him. I never have a problem getting into his apartment, and I feel protective of him.

Any dream interpreters out there?

TV

The TV has become my best friend lately. (If Loki is reading this, he will ask "just lately?"). I got season 1 of Scrubs on DVD from Netflix, and I finished watching the first two discs. Kind of a silly show, but it made me laugh a few times, which is all I really need from a sitcom.

On Tuesday, I watch Veronica Mars and House. Veronica Mars is currently my favorite show, and it's getting killed in the ratings, just like all the shows I dearly love seem to (*sob* Firefly; adieu, Arrested Development). First, VM was opposite Lost, and now it's opposite House, both of which are ratings juggernauts. And VM is superior to both of them.

Lost was an intriguing concept that is failing in execution - I liked some of the early episodes, but I started feeling bored midway through season 1. House has an intriguing main character who I can't completely buy because Bertie Wooster should not be wearing a leather jacket and riding a motorcycle. Plus, as a person who walks with a cane, it drives me nuts that House does not use the cane properly. Are there no medical consultants on the show? You use the cane in the hand opposite the bad leg!!! That bugs me.

Veronica Mars, though...the Buffy shaped hole in my heart has been adequately filled. Intricate plots that actually advance, tragic characters, comic relief, witty dialog, tension, mystery. And that leaves out Veronica herself, portrayed in a beautifully complex performance by Kristin Bell. She's been compared to Nancy Drew, but did we meet Nancy Drew when she was trying to figure out who raped her while she was unconcious after being roofied at a party?

I feel slightly guilty about my love for two (well, three, but one is not on right now) reality shows: The Amazing Race & Top Chef (Project Runway is the 3rd). I love TAR because it is the reality show I would most want to be on, although Loki and I would totally lose because of my gimpiness and his inability to be on time for things. I reluctantly tuned into Top Chef because it was produced by the same people who did Project Runway. At first, I didn't really care for TC, since I can't smell or taste the food, which makes it hard to really determine who should win.

But they've had some great "characters" in this first season - Tiffani, the bitchy, no-nonsense bisexual; LeeAnn, who offers hilarious one-liners on her fellow competitors ("I'm on a team with the big thinker and the no thinker") and solid skills in the kitchen; Harold, who is just plain sexy, until he puts his glasses on, which makes him sexier; Dave, who twitches and swears and cries; and Stephen Aspirino, the tool & douchebag - at first he annoyed me, but then I couldn't stop laughing at his clueless arrogance and self-aggrandizement.

As Homer Simpson said: TV: teacher, mother, secret lover.

Results of yesterday's pondering

1. I've resolved to just continue monitoring the housing market and to move forward on some minor home improvement projects that will keep the value of our house from plummeting. I would guess the solution to this problem is more than 5 years away.

2. Possible solution: Trinity College has a special program for non-traditional students that offers classes at night and on the weekends. It offers a lot of flexibility. I am not sure if they offer a music major in this program, though. I'm looking into it.

3. Yes, but this is part of #1.

4. Still freaking.

5. I'm working up a flyer to distribute to neighbors. Before I distribute it, I may enlist my favorite neighbor to help.

Pondering

I've been quiet lately because I've been pondering some long term plans.

1. Loki and I have to move to a one level house at some point in the future. I will likely only be able to have one artificial hip, and they have a 10-15 year lifespan, so my mobility in the future will be similar to my pre-hip replacement level. So I need to start preparing to do something about that.

2. At some point in my schooling, there will be classes I have to take that are only offered during working hours. How can I manage this and still make money and have health insurance?

3. My younger sister has severe rheumatoid arthritis, and at some point, my mother won't be able to take care of her anymore. Can we think about buying a home that would allow her the opportunity to move away from my parents but still have family close enought to take care of her (i.e., an in-law apt. type of situation?)

4. Sio is going to start her senior year of high school in 4 months. I'm kind of freaking out about scholarships, financial aid, etc.

5. Since gas prices have gone so high, and I don't see that they'll ever go back down again, should I start talking to my neighbors about arranging an errand carpool? For example, if Mr. X at 22 is going to Home Depot on Saturday, he will bring Mr. T who also needs to go to Home Depot. Pros: would save gas, money. Cons: would have to talk to neighbors (my New England side is *very* New England).

I've been discovered!

One of the moms from my list found my blog yesterday, and she was not happy with my post. I won't apologize for expressing my opinion here, and I can't be upset, since I use the same name on the list as I do here, so it wasn't like I was working hard to be anonymous. But it's kind of weird when someone you know from one arena finds you in another...I guess I'm a big fan of compartmentalizing, keeping various aspects of my life separate from each other.

What's bothering me today

Since 1996, I've been on an e-mail list of moms who were all due to have babies during the same month of 1997. We've been through all kinds of flame wars and insanity: breast or bottle, cloth or disposable, co-sleep or crib, spank or not, etc., etc. We've had list break-ups - a couple of very funny, smart, witty women left the list because they were tired of the more sensitive souls getting offended by bad language or sex talk. I've had some abuse heaped on me over the years because I am always willing to talk politics, and those who disagree with me hate discussing anything political with me because I will not concede them any of their points.

Anyway, we've been having a dust-up in the past week over religious issues. One of the moms, who happens to be a lesbian who belongs to a progressive and gay friendly Catholic parish, mentioned that baptisms are wonderful photo ops. A Catholic mom got hugely offended that anyone would refer to what she believes to be a sacred and deeply meaningful sacrament as a photo op - she saw the comment as a nasty jab. I did get involved at that point, and suggested that it was important that we be generous when interpreting the comments of others and not immediately leap to the conclusion that they were deliberately trying to insult us. I eventually got on the subject of Purity Balls, and once again, we were almost all in agreement that these events are creepy, so everything was good.

Then someone posted a link to a t-shirt that made a joke at Joseph Smith's expense (founder of the Mormon church). And everything got all hot and ugly again.

So today, I'm bothered by the Easily Offended; by the people who have no sense of humor about themselves or the things they believe in; to the folks who seem to get some kind of enjoyment from wearing twisted knickers.

I've got the blues, I'm in a funk

I can understand how blues music relates to the having the blues.

But I'm not sure how funk music relates to being in a funk. Unless, of course, listening to funk lifts you out of a funk, in which case, in the words of Rufus, in the voice of Chaka Khan, tell me something good.

For the love of Mom, Apple Pie, God, and everything that is holy and good...

...will someone in the publishing world *PLEASE* give Flea of One Good Thing a major book deal?

Communion Conversation

At last night's Maundy Thursday service:

Sio: I have some of Jesus' body stuck in my teeth
My favorite tenor: That's okay - just wash it down with his blood!

Monkey speaks

Monkey writes exactly like she talks. I give you the following selections from her book report on Saving Shiloh:

"What happens in the story is there is a person who got in an
accident from driving drunk, and his name is Judd Travers. Now that
he doesn't need his crutches anymore, everyone thinks that he's the
one committing all the crimes that are going house to house.
Everyone, but Marty. See, Marty keeps standing up for Judd because
he thinks that Judd is trying to change, and so it turns out that he
*is* trying to change, and the reason I found this out so early in
the book is that there is a big blizzard and school is out for,
like, three weeks! Then Judd comes by with one of those things plows
have, and is plowing everyone's drive."

and a later quote:

"When Judd steps back to see how the fence looks, he accidentally
steps on the black & white dog's paw, and it bites Judd, soaking his
leg in blood. So Marty obviously calls Doc, and they give Judd 56
stitches! Yikes!!"

Lieberman sucks, but the local Democrats are good

On a party line vote, the Manchester, CT (my town) Board of Directors approved a living wage ordinance:

"It's the right thing to do and it's important the taxpayers of Manchester know we are for supporting people," Democratic Deputy Mayor Lisa Paggioli O'Neill said, adding that the Republicans' argument that the ordinance hurts the working poor because it pays them more and nets them less government assistance is nonsense. "That just really upsets me. It's very difficult to live on welfare, and it's not a forever thing."

Democratic Director John Topping agreed, saying of employees and businesses, "I have no problem paying someone $11.06 and health benefits if they're going to get something and that's a town contract."

How about that - leveraging the power of town contracts to help working people. My town joins about 130 towns nationwide in approving a living wage ordinance.

Why my dissatisfaction with the Democrats cannot make me a Green Party supporter

I know I complain about the Democratic party, and I do have Lieberman as a Senator, I cannot throw my support to the local Green Party. Why? Because they do boneheaded things like this:

The Green Party of Connecticut is poised to nominate a disbarred lawyer from Redding, Nancy Burton, as its candidate for state attorney general, a post statutorily required to be filled by a licensed lawyer.

Smooth start, Greens.

I just don't get the world anymore

St. Bernard Parish is considering hiring Michael "Heckuva Job" Brown's firm.

I just don't know what to say, other than WTF?

The things we parents must do...

Tonight, after my madrigals class, I have to go buy two pairs of shoes, because Monkey has not one, but two different projects that require a shoebox.

I suppose I could just ask the people at the shoestore if they have any empty boxes, but that wouldn't be sporting, would it?

Sio had a bad day

1. She fainted in Biology
2. She got sent home without getting to the library to print out her junior thesis which is due tomorrow
3. When she got home, she realized she had taken another students folder, which contained his junior thesis, which meant he had hers.
4. When she called the other student, she found his phone number has been disconnected.
5. In addition to printing out her junior thesis, she was supposed to have it bound.
6. The nearest Kinko's was open until 9pm.
7. It was 7pm before she got her folder
8. Loki has to leave for work at 9pm.

Thus far, things seem to have worked out okay - we made the folder exchange, and her boyfriend took her to a different Kinko's that is open 24 hours a day. Loki's computer only had WordPerfect, and through some sort of amazing serendipity (i.e., I did a little cleaning in my room), I found the MS Office CD that came with my old computer, and loaded it onto Loki's computer, which is the only working computer we have right now, although it doesn't have a working printer, which is why Sio had to print her paper out at school.

This is the downside to embracing the chaos, which I mostly do because I don't know how to combat it.

Rob Corddry Hates Me

Although I'm not sure if it's because I'm Irish, red-haired, or a list pauser.

Tagged

Via Tom Hilton:

What is your favorite word? epiphany

What is your least favorite word? proactive

What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally? Music, many different varieties.

What turns you off? bureaucracy

What is your favorite curse word? Motherfucker.

What sound or noise do you love? baby/toddler giggles

What sound or noise do you hate? sirens

What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? almost anything

What profession would you not like to do? Accountant

If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? "go back, it's not time yet."

Inequality

Mr. Shakes put a fine post up this morning about feminism, and, as always happens in any online forum, it didn't take long for someone to show up to complain: but what about the men?

As always, there is a feminist sympathetic man who doesn't understand why we need to have a feminist movement (Toast, who I nearly always emphatically agree with - and I understand what he's saying, which is that equality is equality, so shouldn't we be fighting for equality rather than breaking apart women's rights as a separate issue? Toast, if it were a better world we lived in, I would agree with you, but as it stands, I can't).

There is also a commenter who is hostile to the idea of feminism, The Jenga Toppler. My favorite comment complains - in the same comment! - that he/she is offended by the notion that criticism of feminism comes from men feeling threatened, just a couple of short paragraphs above his/her statement of how threatened feminism makes him feel:

snipped And not to mention the offensive premise that the only criticism of feminism can come because "men feel threatened" and not because the principles of feminism are wrong.

But of course, you haven't bothered to discuss the principles of feminism. Nor have you bothered to discuss the implications for a world in which the principles of feminism hold sway, or contrast this with a world in which humanism holds sway.

In fact, the whole article is thoroughly offensive. Men are denigrated throughout. Men who "are smart" wouldn't fight against feminism! What an argument. Condescension as a vote winner.

emphasis mine.

I'm not schooled in feminist theory, and I find a lot of the language of feminism tiresome, and I have an inner Groucho who doesn't want to join any club that would have me. But how can anyone, particularly a progressive man, take a look at where we are in the U.S. in 2006, and sincerely argue that we don't need feminism? Look at a picture of House of Representatives or the Senate. Look at the Supreme Court. Look at freaking South Dakota. Women are struggling to hold onto the ground they'd already gained. We have to break feminism apart because it's a different movement than humanism.

We shouldn't stop fighting for equal rights, but until we are all truly on a level playing field, we can't abandon the groups that are left behind.

Me and My Father

Next Friday - Good Friday - I will be waking up early to take my father to Bridgeport, so he can take the ferry to Port Jefferson, Long Island, where my Uncle Michael lives. My father isn't allowed to drive right now because of his drunk driving recidivism, and my mother will be watching my niece, so I'll be the driver.

In light of my recent post about trying to change, I suppose I can look to my father for some guidance. We've never had a good relationship - our relationship was defined by fear, namely, my fear of daddy.

Daddy woke up early every day - before dawn, most of the time. He'd be at work an hour before I ever got out of bed. He worked 6 days a week, 10 hours a day. Monday through Friday, he worked as a carpenter for a big construction company; Saturdays, he did contracting work, mostly for friends and people who got his number from friends.

On Mondays, when daddy got home from work, my older sister and I would disappear to our room. We wouldn't want to come out until we knew what kind of mood he was in, and on Mondays, he was usually in a bad mood - the Irish club, where he would go to drink, was closed on Monday.

Some days he would come home after hoisting a few at the club, and he'd be in a cheerful mood. He'd walk in the door, his 6'4" frame ducking as he walked under the overhead light in the kitchen, and he'd swoop up my sister and I in his arms. He smelled like sweat and sawdust and cigarettes and beer, and his beard would be coming in red, although his hair was black.

On good mood days, he would sit down and my sister and I would each take off one of his boots, and peel off his white tube socks. After dinner, we knew exactly how he liked his tea, and he would sit on the couch and fall asleep with a toothpick in his mouth.

Some days he would come home in what appeared to be a good mood, but it was really the Crazy Mood, the mood that could turn on you and backhand you across the face. We learned how to tiptoe around daddy, to be invisible and unnoticed.

He was in a crazy mood the day he tried to hit my sister with a lead pipe. And the day he punched me in the nose because I was washing the dishes too slowly. And the day he punched me so many times my whole back was black and blue because I was jumping on my bed.

My mother would sometimes take my father's good moods as an opportunity to talk to him about things that would put him a bad mood - we always kind of resented her for that. When he was in a crazy mood, she would sometimes pack all of us kids into the car and start driving to New York, but we rarely got past the caterpillar bridge in Middletown before she would turn back.

As my sister and I got older, the physical abuse subsided, except for one huge incident when T. turned 18 and moved out of the house. My father forbade any of us from saying her name, talking to her, or reminding him that she existed. And one day, I got caught talking to my sister on the phone, and my father picked up a wing chair and slammed it down on my head. I was 16 years old at the time, and I don't even remember getting hurt, I think because I was so furious. I barely remember what happened after that, but my mother tells me she found me two hours later hiding under the picnic table in our backyard.

So you can see why my relationship with my father was defined by fear. He was fucking scary!

Despite all that, my father also could be tender. The back half acre of our yard was a field for many years, and when my father finally cut the field down with a scythe, he found a nest of baby rabbits. He carefully scooped out the sleeping bunnies, finished mowing the field down, and replaced them back in their nest. And when we got splinters, daddy was the one who could take them out without making us cry.

My father would never say he was proud of me, and except for once, he never came to any of my concerts, plays, or softball games. But when I went to the club, his friends always seemed to know what was going on in my life, so clearly, whatever he couldn't say to me, he could say to them.

When I moved out, I basically cut my father out of my life. I didn't do it in a ritualistic, decisive way - I just stopped talking to him.

Lately, my relationship with my father has changed. I can't imagine a time when he would call me to take him on a drive. He's planning to do some landscaping at our house this summer, and he's talked about other projects he'd like to do at our house. It's kind of weird, because we've never talked about things that happened in the past, but I feel like I know how he feels, and he knows how I feel, and we're just putting it behind us.

Have you thanked Harry Taylor yet?

By now, you have heard about Harry Taylor. This story makes me happy and sad at the same time. I was thrilled to read Mr. Taylor's statement to the president - it's about bloody time Bush had to face someone who wasn't a fawning supporter. And I was sort of thrilled to read the pages and pages of Thank You's on this webpage.

But how sad it is for our country that one person getting to say something oppositional or critical to our president is such a stand-out moment.

On the plus side, Bush is at 36%, and as long as Mr. Taylor is only the first of many people to speak up and get noticed, maybe we can get those numbers to do the Limbo.

Tasteless

SCARBOROUGH: Did Hillary Clinton leave the White House in shambles? Well, according to a new book, first lady Laura Bush found worn and outdated furniture, frayed carpeting, and just absolutely tasteless decorations, from the Oval Office to the East Wing. Was Hillary too busy trying to play assistant president?

Now Laura Bush is an arbiter of taste? I submit that she wouldn't recognize taste if it was sitting in the passenger seat with her high school boyfriend.

Exhibit A:


Nice back to the future hair, mrs. Bush - where did you get it cut, 1955?

Exhibit B:



Oh, my goodness, that dress is Texas trashy, and a woman with Laura's figure should not be putting a delicate ribbon around her waist. Plus...are those plastic ornaments on the tree?

Exhibit C:



Look at what she married.

I realize I'm not addressing the larger point here, which is that in 2006, we are still talking about homemaking as woman's domain. This is an effort to put Hillary Clinton in a box - she's a woman, and she's not good at womanly things! - for the sole point of making Hillary appear diminished, worthless. I'm not a fan of Hillary Clinton, and I sincerely hope she is not the Democratic candidate in 08, but this is ridiculous.

And Laura Bush shows her classlessness by spreading the rumor through a subordinate. Graceless, classless, tasteless.

Three Good Things

1. Today's Hartford Courant headline: Bush Visit Delights Dems. I'm glad to see the local Dems embracing the fact that Bush is unpopular, and seeing that it can hurt Shays chances for re-election.
2. It's stopped snowing, and the sun is out.
3. One of my co-workers is now the proud father of twin boys - 6 lbs, 10 oz & 5 lbs, 13 oz - that's 12 lbs, 7 oz of baby!

Three bad things

1. It's snowing. Big, fat, wet flakes of snow are falling and accumulating.
2. Apparently, I sprained my back while sitting on my fat ass. Who knew that could be an injury prone activity?
3. Monkey has pneumonia. It hurts to hear her breathe, and it sound worse today, 24 hours after she started taking antibiotics.

Can people change?

I mentioned in my post below that we never leave the house without something to read. The book I stashed in the trunk on Sunday morning was Separate Flights - a collection of short stories plus a novella by Andre Dubus.

The novella included in this collection is called We Don't Live Here Anymore. The protagonist is Jack Linden, and the story is about marriage and adultery - the near dissolution of his marriage due to adultery. It's not a happy picture of marriage, but what makes the story so resonant for me is Jack's description of his wife, Terry, a woman he no longer loves. Terry is described as angry, as a slob; she drinks too much and never takes care of the house, and one event that really raises Jack's ire is when he realizes she never changed the sheets after their son wet his bed. Tied together with finding two pots on the basement stairs, pots that were used a month prior and still were never cleaned, Jack finds his justification for his ongoing adulterous relationship with his friend's wife.

Terry claims she forgot about them, but Jack doesn't believe her - and although Jack may not be the most reliable narrator, he makes a compelling case for why she really didn't forget about them.

Because Dubus is a masterful writer, Terry is still a sympathetic character. She is a woman who found herself unexpectedly pregnant, before her own life even started, and clearly yearns for a life that doesn't involve washing dishes or changing sheets. She spends her days reading books Jack brings home. She wants something other than what she has, but she seems powerless to change.

If you are a regular reader, you might see from the previous paragraph why the story is resonant for me.

So I was navel gazing this weekend in between reading stories and sitting in my car waiting for my promised ride to pick me up. I am a great inputter of stuff: I watch too much television, read too many blogs, eat too much food; meanwhile, I put off doing stuff: while I read, the dishes pile up in the sink. While I watch TV, life is happening. And the eating...alcoholism is prevalent in my family, and food is my substitute for booze. I eat too much and for reasons other than hunger.

As a child, I hated to admit that I was wrong, or that it was even possible for me to be wrong, but I'm comfortable with it now, and I freely acknowledge my many flaws: my bad temper, overeating, neglect of my home, the way I have embraced entropy. And I tell myself that it's just the way I am, and everytime I try to make a change, I find myself back where I started, and that just reinforces it: I cannot change.

But it's not how I want to be, and if it's my life, I should be able to change it, right? I'm not sure I believe that I can change my life; that anyone can change, really. And if I can change, I'm not sure how to do it. I've tried to change my habits before and I always end up back where I started. I am quick to break promises to myself.

I wonder if the only way to really change is do something dramatic, something that throws your old life into upheaval, making it essential to find a different way to do things. Or should it be done incrementally, slowly and methodically?

Any suggestions, oh so quiet and perhaps non-existant readers?

A winning slogan for the mid-term elections

Tom Hilton's got it

My kingdom for a Vicodin

I mentioned yesterday that my back hurt, but yesterday was nothing compared to how it feels today. Holy Tibetan Monks, I would kill for a Vicodin right now.

A beautiful day, and yet

As usual, my mother called me last night to remind me to spring forward, but the sun and blue sky pouring through my bedroom window woke me long before my alarm was due to go off.

Loki had a serious eating and drinking event with his BIL, so he stayed at his sister's last night, and Sio was still in Washington D.C., so Monkey and I headed out the door to church.

Today's sermon was completely inoffensive, and I was in high spirits as Monkey and I left church and headed out to the car. We buckled ourselves in, turned the key, and hit the button for the stupid security system our car came with, and nothing happened. I couldn't start the car. We locked it up and decided to go for a little walk, so we headed over to Bushnell Park with our books.* We came back, tried again. Nothing.

So I called Loki, and he said his sister would come get us. And she did -- almost 3 hours later. She was not assessed of our situation in a timely fashion. Loki is happy to be at work, and not here, where I am still angry that he took so long to get out to us.

I did something to my back, and now I can hardly move. I left the car in the church parking lot (note to self: call the church in the morning to let them know it's your car), and my mother is coming to pick me up at 5:45 a.m. so I can direct her to Loki's place of business.

On the plus side, it really was beautiful today, Sio's group won all the first place awards at the adjudication, and we have enough money in the bank to pay for whatever needs to be fixed (Loki and I think we just have to get rid of that motherfucking security system that we both hate - the battery has juice, everything else seems to work except for the mf security system.)

*We never leave the house without something to read.

You can still do this in America, right?

Tomorrow morning, Sio will be heading to Washington D.C., along with the a capella singing group at her school, for a Superiors Music ajudication. That means that in order to participate, your singing group must have been judged superior at a previous festival.

Since I am being forced to spend my hard earned money in Washington D.C. (something I didn't want to do while the Republicans hold power, but essentially had to because Sio doesn't have a job), I told Sio that I would feel I got my money's worth if she would go past the White House, flip the bird* towards the occupant, and use her First Amendment rights to express her true feeling towards said occupant, using whatever words she felt appropriate, 4 letters or more.

You can still do that in America, right?

*Alternatively, she could offer the Sicilian Salute, now Supreme Court Justice Approved! Although apparently, it's not really obscene, and therefore, inappropriate.

Action Item

Shorter Firedoglake: enough talking, time for some action.

FDL is asking us to fax our Congresscritters about the illegal wiretapping program of the Executive Branch. Currently, the majority of our Democratic representatives in Congress are set on "dither" - it's time to push them into some action, and the very least they can do, almost literally, is to support Feingold's censure motion.

"The founding fathers didn't trust George Washington with unlimited power, so why would we trust George Bush?"

Ladies and Gentleman, I give you Sean Patrick Maloney.



from Digby:

March, 23rd. New York City - Today Sean Patrick Maloney, former senior Clinton White House official and investigative attorney running for the Democratic nomination for New York Attorney General, revealed a fresh idea to "legalize" the Bush Administration's warrantless wiretapping program using a complaint that can be filed in federal court.

The complaint would seek a federal court order requiring the Bush Administration to comply with the law. The plan does not stop, compromise or hamper ongoing operations but instead compels the Bush Administration to appear in federal court, in secret session, to show cause for wiretapping any citizens of New York.

It is against New York state law to monitor communications over the phone without consent of the parties or without a court order. The benefit to New Yorkers, who cannot sue on their own behalf because the wiretapping is secret, is to initiate judicial oversight of the Bush Administration's program.

Maloney said, "As a New Yorker, I am committed to stopping, capturing, punishing or killing the terrorists who target America for attack, but I am also committed to the rule of law in this country, or at least this state. George Bush is not above the law.

"My plan both fights terrorism and protects New Yorkers' privacy from unauthorized or unconstitutional government intrusion. It does not compromise or halt ongoing anti-terror operations. It legalizes them. It's clear the Bush Administration is operating outside of New York law without legal federal authority."

There is recent case law and precedent for state attorneys general to act against federal actors who break state law and are acting outside of congressional authority. The Oregon Attorney General successfully sued then-United States Attorney General John Ashcroft, stopping him from undermining that state's assisted suicide law (analogous to New York's wiretapping law) without Congressional authorization to do so (as with the NSA's actions here).

The Maloney campaign is supporting this idea with the first paid television ads of the campaign for Attorney General. Entitled "Good Question" the 30-second spot, which airs statewide starting today, makes the charge that the President is outside his authority in using warrantless wiretaps and is violating New York state law. In the ad, Sean Patrick Maloney asks, "The founding fathers didn't trust George Washington with unlimited power, so why would we trust George Bush?"

Makes me feel all proud to be an Irish-American.

Wild in the city

I love reading about wild animals in the heart of the city. I know they coyotes can be, at best, a nuisance, and at worst, a real danger, but there is something so viscerally pleasing about the idea of a wild animal roaming the streets of Manhattan.

When I worked for a certain oldest continuously published newspaper in the United States, I volunteered to work on Saturday mornings (old suck-ups die hard). I had to be in at 6am, and I really enjoyed coming into the quiet city, not fighting with any traffic. And since it was Hartford on the weekend, there were no people to be found, either.

One Saturday morning, I was near the train station, about to head towards Farmington Avenue, and a huge deer jumped out in front of me. It was a buck, and I wondered for a moment if The Hartford Insurance Co. was shooting a commercial. But they weren't, it was just me and the deer in downtown Hartford.

I need to get this off my chest

This is in response to some of the commenters to this post over The Chemist's - his comments aren't working:

However, the choice of when you reproduce is made BEFORE conception...not after.

Yeah, and sometimes the condom breaks, or the birth control doesn't work, and then you find yourself unexpectedly pregnant. Not you, AC, because you're not a woman, but I've been there, sir.

You might find it disgusting that a woman might choose to have an abortion just because she doesn't want to be pregnant. I mean, it's really unseemly that a woman would be able to have sex and not have to suffer some sort of consequence, isn't it? Only women who are already downtrodden and victims, of rape or incest, are permitted to decide whether they are ready to be a parent when they find themselves unexpectedly pregnant?

Frankly, I find it abhorhent and repellent that you think you should have any right to consign a woman to giving birth whether she wants to or not - and to suffer the many risks inherent with pregnancy.

Take me, for example. With my first pregnancy (unexpected because of condom failure, but don't get too disgusted, AC - the guy and I got married, and despite our premarital fooling around, we are still happily married 17 years later) I had hyperemesis, i.e., I threw up several times a day, every day, for the entire pregnancy. I lost 60 lbs when I was pregnant with my first child.

That's actually not as major as some people I know - a friend of mine who was due around the time I was developed preeclampsia, and in order to keep her from dying, they delivered the baby at 24 weeks along. He was in NICU for several months, well after the time he would have been delivered if she had not developed preeclampsia, and to this day, he has trouble breathing and is a few years behind his age cohort in school.

Another friend due the same week as me had what they call an incompetent cervix. Her son was unexpectedly born at about 25 weeks. He is now 9 years old. He doesn't walk, he cannot talk, and he lost an eye because he was on oxygen for so long.

Both of those babies were very much wanted and were lucky enough to come into families that had the resources to care for them. And those are just two of many, many things that can go wrong during pregnancy.

Now, if I had either of those problems, I would have been in deep shit. We had no medical insurance and made about $14,000 a year, which was supposed to support a family of 3. I went a lot of days eating only a hard boiled egg. At Christmas, we splurged and bought a chicken. I breastfed because I couldn't afford formula, and I ended up losing a tooth because I couldn't afford to buy vitamins to supplement my diet and the calcium I was losing by nursing. (Never mind visiting the dentist - I thank my lucky stars that we had fluoridated water, because we couldn't afford a dentist visit until my daughter was 7 years old. You know why? Because we had no medical insurance and it took us 7 years to pay off the hospital bill for her birth.)

You every try to get a job when you're missing a tooth, AC?

So please don't get too disgusted, AC. Sometimes, when a woman has to make a difficult choice, she actually analyzes her current situation, and tries to make the best possible decision she can under the circumstances, and maybe that doesn't meet with your approval. But who the hell are you to tell her she shouldn't be allowed to assess her own life, her own situation, and make the best decision she can without useless, bloviating moralizing from people whose need to feel morally superior is so much more important to them then the lives of the people they are hurting.

to Ryan:

I rather think that the life has intrinsic value, wanted or otherwise.

but apparently, only the potential life has intrinsic value. The slut who had sex made her choice already, am I right?

Trip Day 2

February 17, 2006

As usual, I had to get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom - it was about 3am, Paris time. And Loki was not back yet. He went out to visit a particular pub that we had passed on our walk back from Sacre Coeur. I don't know everything that happened while he was out, but he did share that the area around the Moulin Rouge gets really, really seedy after midnight.

Unfortunately for Loki, we had a 5:30 wake-up call, so we got up, rearranged our luggage, and set off for Porte Maillot. We took M2 to Charles de Gaulle Etoile, and a very nice custodian led us through the nice warm mall to the door that led to the parking lot where buses to the airports waited. It's the cane, it makes people want to help me.

We got on the bus, and a short time later, we were on our way to the Paris Beauvais airport, about a 50 minute ride from Central Paris. I was the only member of our party to stay awake, and I'm glad I did - we traveled through a lot of the residential areas of the city, and when we left the city, we motored by a lot of farmland.

The Beauvais airport is tiny - it's a hallway with a few canvas hangers attached to it. The announcements were all in French; although someone was attempting to make announcements in English, it really was unrecognizable. We quickly figured out that "Dooblah" was actually Dublin, and therefore we were able to get in the right line.

Loki got out of line to go to the bathroom and almost created an international incident when he tried to get back in line right behind me, right when I was about to go through security, without showing his passport at the gate. What a troublemaker!

We were ushered through to one of the canvas hangers, where the wind was sweeping down the plain - the noise of the wind against the canvas was so loud that I couldn't hear any of the announcements.

Sio, being her friendly self, met a family from Dublin and whiled away the next hour chatting with them. Monkey was surly and overtired, and she and I sat and split a bottle of water and a croissant. A couple sat across from us, and I immediately liked the man - his face expressed such humor and good nature, and he seemed to take to Monkey, offering her peanut M&Ms and doing silly magic tricks for her, which improved her mood. She shared that "nous ne soutenon pas le President Bush", and he laughed - a nice hearty laugh.

Ryanair allows family to board first, so we got good seats at the front of the plane. Loki, Sio, and Monkey all had window seats - I took the aisle so I could keep my left leg straight. Loki tried to stay awake for the landing, but only Monkey and I saw the shoreline of Ireland as we landed at the Dublin airport.

(to be continued....)

Apparently, they had to add diamonds to meet American standards

Loki was so excited this morning when he came home from work. He held up the front page of the business section of USA Today (he works at a hotel) and pointed out the picture of his favorite tiny car, the SmartCar

Only now, after a three years of working to get the cars to meet U.S. safety and environmental regulations — and battling with giant DaimlerChrysler — is there a respectable batch of cars to dole out to dealers.


More than 100 cars have been shipped to sales lots. The remainder, about 250, fill a yard in an industrial area of this Orange County enclave. Here, the cars await their turn to be outfitted with myriad environmental and safety items — from stronger bumpers to better interior padding — to make them legal for sale in the USA.

So Loki thought he was going to try to get himself a SmartCar. And then came the bad news:

Prices start at $24,000, but some dealers say they are fetching as much as $30,000

I saw them advertised in the French paper for a little over 8000 euros! So now I'll start seeing asshole insurance executives driving around Hartford in their SmartCars - the ones they use for commuting, while their Lexus SUV is for weekend trips to the Vineyard.

Middle class and working poor people need fuel efficient cars, too!

There are Deadheads and Parrotheads

But you can call me a Sondhead.

I am a huge fan of Stephen Sondheim, and this weekend, I picked up a copy of Sondheim Sings: Vol. II for $3.00 at the Sam Goody in the mall, which is closing.

For all his brilliance as a composer and his staggering genius as a lyricist, Sondheim the singer is not a standout; in his own words,

"For those of you who have not had the pleasure of hearing my voice before, I tend to sing very loud, usually off-pitch and always write in keys that are just out of my range."

But I have to say I find a special poignance in hearing Sondheim sing his own music. Although it is not included on this recording, Sondheim's performance of Anyone Can Whistle from Sondheim Evening: A Musical Tribute (recorded in 1973) makes me a little weepy.

The opening song on this CD is a jaunty tune Sondheim wrote (at age 25) for his friend Jerry Beaty's 39th birthday. Since it's Sondheim, it's no sentimental mush:

You look flashy, you look sporty,
you look almost as dashing as Morty*
Well, you're only as old as you look - and you look 40.

You look blase, you look nifty
But when they ask you your age you look shifty
Well, you're only as old as you look.
Let me look again - 50

Of in-laws you have a clawful
and the favors they ask are inlawful
Well you're only as old as you look
and you look awful.

Happy birthday, Jerry Beaty
May your problems be few and unweighty
Well, you're only as old as you look
and you look eighty...five
You're practically alive

*Morty refers to Morton Gottlieb, a theatrical producer who was known for his slovenly physical appearance.

I love McSweeney's

Help, Mom! There's a right-wing asshole in the pulpit!

Just in brief, here are things that the new dick in charge at church mentioned in his sermon:

The war on Christmas
Marxism is an extremist religion
Christians should not be tolerant of people with other religious beliefs
all religious beliefs except for Christianity are lies
even some branches of Christianity are suspect (I'm looking at you, Catholics)
There is no such thing as evolution

I got up and left before my head exploded, but I'm still furious this morning.

Our soprano section leader left the same time as I did, and as we were hanging up our robes, I said "if I wanted to listen to right-wing political bullshit, I'd watch Fox news". She said she's actively looking for another church job, because she doesn't think she can take another week of this. She's hugely talented and a soprano, so I don't doubt she'll find a good job, but I might have some trouble - altos are a dime a dozen, and while I am a fairly skilled sightreader, and have loads of singing experience, I have more of a soulful/jazzy/blues kind of voice, where most choirs are your standard classical style.

I'm also contemplating writing an anonymous letter to the Prudential Board of the church to complain about the downright lies that the new Rev. is preaching.

Give me your poor, your tired, your hungry

But if only if they have papers. Otherwise, it's detention camps for them.

The Republican Party - destroying everything that is truly great about America.

Why didn't I know this?

I rarely read the Huffington Post, but I just found out that Christopher Durang blogs there. Christopher Durang, author of the play "Laughing Wild", a title I borrowed for my blog, a title Durang borrowed from a Samuel Beckett play, who in turn borrowed it from a Thomas Gray poem (which is quoted briefly under the title of the blog, bringing it all together into a lovely Moebius strip sort of shape).

So maybe I'll have to add HuffPo to the blogroll. I would actually like to overhaul the whole appearance of my blog - after two years, I'm getting tired of the look of it, but I'm technically retarded, so that's not likely.

Coincidence

I wrote a day or so ago about getting in touch with an old friend of mine from my community theater days. He's directing the show Falsettos at the Southington Community Theater, and I said if he needed a Jason, I knew just the kid. Well, he already had a Jason, and, more sadly for me, he already had a Dr. Charlotte, which is a role I covet (although not as much as I covet the role of Mrs. Lovett in Sweeney Todd, a role I am bound and determined to play before I die).

Today, I got an email from my friend saying his Jason dropped out, so he may need my Jason after all!

That's coincidence number one: getting in touch with someone right when they needed my help with something.

Coincidence number two: I've been feeling kind of lonely lately. I rarely hang out with anyone who isn't a family member, and I was feeling short on non-related friends, and yes, feeling a little sorry for myself. I was in the middle of writing a post about lonliness yesterday afternoon when my phone rang, and it was another old friend of mine, a woman I used to work with, and with whom I clicked immediately. So we made plans to get together for coffee and conversation, which is great, because she is truly one of the most original minds I know, and delightful to converse with.

I am going to take these coincidences as a reminder that I know a lot of people out there, and I need to take the initiative to keep in touch with them. My insecurity often gets the better of me when I think about calling people I haven't talked to in a long time - "oh, if they wanted to talk to me, they would have called by now," but I shall try to assume that they would be as pleased to hear from me as I would be to hear from them.

Tomato Head

Today is St. Patrick's Day, which means it is now the 29th anniversary of the day I acquired the unfortunate nickname Tomato Head.

I was in second grade, and Mrs. Johannson, in the spirit of the holiday, was offering a prize for the student who wore the most green. My mother decided it would be wrong if I didn't win, since I was the most Irish person in my class, and I was so competitive that I didn't even entertain the idea of losing.

I was green from head to toe. Green sneakers (oh, I loved those sneakers, kelly green with yellow stripes, although my father complained because green/yellow are Kerry's colors; he favored the maroon and white of Galway), green socks, green corduroy pants, green turtleneck, green Irish sweater, and the coup de'grace, a green ribbon in my bright red hair.

I handily won the contest, but on the playground, one of the boys in my class told me I looked like a tomato. I remember that sinking feeling of knowing he was right. My red hair on my large round head, with the little green ribbon as the stem. I was surrounded by a bunch of kids, yelling "Tomato Head, tomato head, tomato head!" at me.

I was not a sensitive child, so I didn't cry - I think I just went berzerker - screaming and kicking and throwing my fists out in fury. The teacher who was watching over the playground grabbed me firmly by the hand and took me to the nurse's office until I calmed down.

I just realized

My blog just had it's second birthday last week, and I completely forgot. I started blogging on 3/10/2004, as a result of a round of "where are the women bloggers". I'm not a great blogger - I don't post any scoops or get people motivated to action, I mostly complain and sometimes rant, and sometimes I just post out of sheer boredom, but most days, I enjoy having a place to express myself, even when no one is reading. (Then there are the other days, where I wonder at my own vapid inability to come up with anything witty, clever, entertaining or enlightening to write about. Like today, for example.)

Last year, on my blog's birthday, I promised more pictures and sex. I delivered on at least one of those things. This year, I have a feeling there will be more navel gazing, as I seem to be entering a time of existential angst. Please bear with me as I reexperience my adolescence - it probably won't last long.

Thanks to all my commenters for commenting, reminding me that I do in fact exist. Thanks especially to Shakespeare's Sister for letting me whore the blog at her site 3 days a week and just being generally supportive.

Insecurity

Just when I was feeling better, the entire admin staff of the office went out to lunch today and didn't invite me, even though I'm also on the admin staff. And because I'm the non-dramatic, non-hissy fit having member of the admin staff, I can't even make a big stink about it.

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.