CynWrites: A Blog For Grownups

Breaking News: Living Causes Death!

2012-02-08T11:30:00.000-08:00

Well, the food "experts" issued another warning this week -- we Americans consume vastly more salt than we should. Last week sugar was the demon, and in the last few months we've been warned about e. coli in spinach and packaged lettuce (again), about villainous soup cans and plastic containers conspiring to kill us, fresh eggs and chicken ready to wipe out entire families, farmed fish (bad), ocean fish (badder), shellfish (baddest), alcohol (good/bad/good/bad), and white bread and all prepared food (THE WORST THINGS ON EARTH!).

Their message is clear -- eat anything and you die.

I've got news for all these experts and for the news organizations that lead with their ridiculous pronouncements: Life causes death. Period. It's the one constant of all life on earth, except for maybe bristlecone pine and redwood trees.

I'm SO tired of hearing this alarmist advice which is immediately challenged by food manufacturers (vested interests) and other "food experts," and often reversed in the weeks following the breaking news. I've fought my own battles with food and I'm no longer listening to "the experts."

I wrote here about my lifelong experiences with dieting, and I'm here to tell you that it only gets worse the older one becomes (if, of course, one survives all the nutritional pitfalls out there).

In 2003 I lost (mumble mumble) pounds and (harrumph!) dress sizes -- until my body went into absolute starvation mode and refused to accommodate any continuing efforts. It may have been the longest "dieting plateau" on record, and I'll stick to my story that I stuck to my diet and exercise program over the next nine years with NO appreciable results. Well, except that I gained back 20 of those mumble mumble pounds...the traitors.

I redoubled my efforts in January, tracked every single input calorie of food and every single output calorie of exercise with this dandy little free program, scavenged my Wendi Friesen hypnosis CD's from the depths of my closet and VIOLA! I've lost ten pounds. Hips, hips, see ya, hooray!

I guess my metabolism -- the body's conductor of the weight maintenance symphony -- decided nine years was long enough to be on strike. Seriously -- I'm doing NOTHING different than what I've done for the past nine years, so I'm befuddled at this recent success. According to those same infamous "experts," roller coaster dieting can cause this kind of reaction and God knows I've been riding that roller coaster since I was a child. Thanks, Mom, for those delicious pies, sugar sandwiches and your pork chops with country gravy. Thanks, Dad, for your Lithuanian/Polish genes that made these thighs giant silos, eager to store every stray calorie.

The bad news is -- at my mumble mumble years, losing even one pound results in the Catastrophic Aging Syndrome where one pound lost equals one year added to one's face. Alert the media -- this is my own new algorithm, affirmed with every depressing glance into my mirror: ten pounds exactly equal ten extra years tacked onto my already "mature" face. Where before I had minimal and charming laugh lines, I now have ruffles of excess skin, and where I had actual wrinkles, I have chasms that rival the You-Know-What Canyon. Dammit! As this continues, I'm going to be known as the Anti-Olay Woman of the universe. Those VERY expensive anti-wrinkle creams are not meant for someone my mumble mumble age -- they're meant for chickies approaching 30 who sport a tiny flaw on their perfect porcelain skin.

What we need (are you listening, cosmetic manufacturers?) is thick, creamy spackle...true skin stucco, caulk or joint compound. Just lather it on with a putty knife, cover with makeup and there ya go -- nearly human again. It could be a whole new outcall service, similar to those makeup and hair artists for the richy rich. I mean, we already have mani-pedis -- why not spackies?

Or, for extreme serial dieters, maybe we could have little "eyes" inserted, like sexy piercings, into the skin at our temples, then insert hooks on the ends of elastic bands and pull the whole facial skin upwards and clip with a diamond-studded hair ornament. No one would ever know. (I suspect some of those aging movie stars do exactly this -- why, oh why, isn't this technology available to us ordinary wrinkly wimmin?)

I knew when I turned 50 that any further dieting would result in a choice between my fanny and face -- I just didn't know that the choice would be so devastating. I'm way beyond the age where anyone is checking out my fanny but, no matter how high I hold my head and tilt it just right, my face is out there for all to see.

OK -- no more whining. I'm happy that the weight-loss factory is again working under full steam. Maybe there are shorts in my future this summer ....(hahahahahahaha...uncontrollable giggles).... and maybe next year I'll apply to The Bachelor -- with a brown bag over my head. In the meantime, I intend to add a little salt to canned soup, eat fresh spinach, and even buy an occasional loaf of sourdough bread. Not being a redwood tree (well, except for the thighs) I have to die of something.

Also...my favorite ZITE program brought me a link to this blog, which I'm sure many of you will find interesting -- I surely did. It chronicles a man who has vowed to perform 366 acts of random kindness throughout this entire year -- pretty impressive so far.

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The Art Of Retirement

2012-02-03T11:33:00.000-08:00

I've been semi-officially retired now for two months, and, in internet time (like dog years) that makes me an expert on the subject. I wrote here about waning client work foreshadowing retirement, but the reality of actually being retired is very different than I imagined.

Since almost 100% of my adult life was structured around employment, I experience a mental "whoa!" each dawn as I realize the day ahead is free of all work obligations and worry -- in fact, free of any expectations whatever. It's a little like those brief breaths when the Roadrunner charges off the cliff but still treads air -- reality takes a moment to catch up before he plows into the ground with a thud. I still feel as though I should be doing something productive -- that all this leisure time is somehow slothful and I'm going to have to pay for it sooner or later -- that I'm treading air and facing the big thud.

I don't for a second regret my decision to chuck it in and retire, but I'm not too sure exactly how to do retirement, and I've been unsuccessful in finding any relevant answers online.

As I wrote in the above blog posting from last March:

"The "advice" columns are so basic and contain such obvious and banal ideas that "duh!" is the only possible response. "Learn how to budget your reduced income." "Volunteer your time." "Garden." "Exercise." "Spend time with grandchildren." "Read." "Start a hobby." "Take a class." "Travel."

DUH! Thanks, anyway -- I was looking for something a little meatier -- like, how not to be seduced by trashy daytime TV, or how to make the kitchen literally disappear except at regular mealtimes, or what do you do with all these empty hours if you hate to shop, or how to avoid the constant temptation to add to your Kindle collection, or how not to go blind reading blogs all day, or how do you squeeze another trip to France from a non-existent vacation fund? You know, the really important retirement issues."

My house is packed with materials from various artsy hobbies I've explored over the years and those fill time; my new iPad keeps my brain ticking and that fills time; deciding whether or not to publish my children's books fills time, especially with the seductive new digital opportunities; domestic duties and doggy attention fill time -- but the question still nags me -- shouldn't this last, best part of life be more than just "filling time?"

Maybe I'm just too task- and goal-oriented to know how to live without working. Maybe I've confused "working" with "life" and now that one's gone, the other doesn't yet know how to stand on its own little feet. Or maybe there's a natural timeline necessary for adjustment from one state to another and, as usual, I'm rushing the process -- one more example of an Aries so eager to reach the destination that I miss the journey -- although this particular destination comes with a headstone.

All the articles I see on retirees (except those referencing the poor eating their cat's food) show toothy, silver-haired couples relaxing with a cocktail on a veranda that overlooks a lush golf course or enticing spa, or taking sappy photos of one another in front of an ancient monument, with their cruise ship in the background. They must represent the few couples who managed to safeguard their investments from the last two stock market crashes and somehow retain the value of their property. I suspect, however, these depict simply the cannabis-induced dreams of a copywriter/illustrator living in the glorious past that included a richy-rich retirement. Today's financial reality for the "99%" doesn't approach that luscious lifestyle.

I've believed for a very long time that we create our own reality and future through our thoughts, wishes, dreams and persistence, which philosophy has proven true time after time in my life. It's exactly this truth that I find a little scary, a little alarming. What will my future look like if I can't define my dreams and thus have nothing left to achieve? Treading air, even if it's very comfortable and secure air, isn't my idea of how to spend the next 25 years.

(Or maybe I just want to return to France for another extended visit and can't right now. Hmmm...)

If any of you, my dear intrepid readers, have any thoughts, I'd be thrilled to read them in the comments.

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Hello Again, (again and again)

2012-02-01T14:37:00.000-08:00

This poor orphaned blog has had more starts and restarts than the last two minutes of an NFC game -- but here we go again. I read this morning that February is NaBloPoMo (or, National Blog Posting Month on a particular blog-hosting site), and that byte of information gave me just the motivation I needed to re-re-re-re-restart Cynwrites. The fact that EVERY month is NaBloPoMo didn't discourage me, either -- it simply cautioned me once again to read below the headline.

The operative topic for this posting is contained in the first four words of the second sentence above: "I read this morning..." as that activity has turned into the best part of my little retirement day -- well, second to going back to sleep at night.

The Retirement Fairy brought me an iPad2 (tablet computer) as a combo Christmas/retirement celebration gift, and, so far, Zite has been the best part of that gift. Zite is a free app (program) for the iPad and iPhone which compiles a personalized "magazine" of internet articles based on one's preferences of categories, including special personal interests. Zite serves my magazine up fresh each time I access it and, remarkably, it "learns" by what I actually read and focuses more articles on those subjects.

While it's also easy to follow specific blogs and websites through an RSS feed/reader, Zite brings me articles from hither, thither and yonder over all the internet, unlimited by individual RSS subscriptions. With my little dog and a cup or two of French press coffee by my side, I read and learn all kinds of interesting things those first two hours of the morning -- not, of course, that my demented memory will retain any of it -- but the reading part is fun.

"Fun" seems to me to be the primary purpose of the iPad -- an expensive little toy to ~~kill~~ use all these available leisure hours. As long as it's up and running, I get instant email alerts for my many email names. I can send and receive text messages (since I NEVER turn on my cell phone), although so far my son is the only person who has texted me. The whole internet is, of course, at my fingertips, although the Safari browser the iPad uses is far more limited than Mozilla's Firefox that I use on my other computers. And, most important to anyone under 30 (which I'm not - HA) are the kazillion games that can be played solo or with your internet friends. I have 340 games of Scrabble under my belt (with an 81% win rate) -- but another obnoxious word game (Word Seek) labels and libels me as damn near illiterate.

Fotopedia brought me glorious photo albums of Above France, Paris, US National Parks and World Heritage Sites -- all free apps, except Paris, which cost $1.99. (Of course Paris wasn't free!) I can read all of my Kindle books on the iPad -- and all other ebooks through various readers. If you also had an iPad, we could use it to talk face-to-face, although certainly NOT at 7 a.m. my time. Video rentals and video streaming are available, all the music you could ever listen to is available, as are audio books. There's no way you're going to be bored with this device, although you may end up with a sore neck.

This blog post sounds like a commercial for the iPad, doesn't it? This is my very first hands-on experience with any Apple product and I have to admit I'm impressed. I don't have an iPhone with the app technology, so you have to forgive my typical Aries enthusiasm for anything new to me.

I've found only three limitations thus far -- the only keyboard interface it comes with is on-screen, which is really, really inconvenient (you have to go to three screens to produce one little asterisk), although you can add a real wireless keyboard to the system. The second annoyance is a serious handicap, in my opinion -- you can only access one application at a time. Although some programs do link through to others quite nicely, there is no real "windowing" that we are all so used to, with multiple programs open concurrently. Since I'm not using this thing for work, it's not a big, big deal for me now -- but I think it would be a definite handicap were I trying to actually work on it. And forget writing on it, unless I do add that keyboard at some point. Printing, even over an existing wireless network, is difficult-to-impossible without more Apple stuff (special printers, special software), so I can't even print those enticing coupons Staples and Safeway keep sending, unless I use another computer.

No one promised that the iPad would eliminate the need for a "real" computer, although that probably isn't too far off. Until then, I'm happy with Zite, Scrabble, France photos and handy email. If you're looking for a new techie toy, you'd probably like the iPad...gauging by Apple's recent financial performance, a lot of people do.

So -- that's today's offering for NaBloPoMo. As with every other resolution I've ever made, this will probably not last a whole Mo, but you never Kno. Stick around and find out?

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Four Things I'm Not

2011-05-21T19:36:00.000-07:00

I'm not a sociologist....
But I'm fascinated with the phenomenon of the expanding compulsion to stay in near-constant electronic communication with something -- and that something not always human. Did pod people land somewhere and assume our psyches so we're evolving into a quasi-human hive? Is this the noosphere -- the universal Mind come to fruition, as described by the philosophy of Teilhard de Chardin? Or are we simply so afraid to be alone, to face ourselves in solitude, that we somehow need to remain "connected" at all times? Are our intrapersonal relationships so devoid of intimacy that we're replacing them with pixels and bytes? Click here for one listing of the top 100 people followed on Twitter. Except for President Obama and a few news and information services, most of these listed are some sort of pop celebrity -- with over ten million people following rock star Lady Gaga... which gagas my mind. I'm assuming that the under-25 crowd accounts for this slavish attention to entertainment personalities -- but what does it say about our kids' allegiance to the overindulgent lifestyles of these overpaid and over-valued, under-talented, amoral, hypersexed, inane sleazeballs? (No offense.)

I'm not a political pundit....
But I choked on my microwave popcorn the other night when NBC correspondent Miguel Almaguer reported on The (former) Governator's current pickle. His wrap-up sentence bemoaned that Arnie had broken trust with his family and "the people of California." Huh? I'm one of the people of California and I don't feel that The Gov broke any trust with me by fathering -- AND acknowledging AND financially supporting -- a child by his housekeeper. What the hell business is it of mine -- or yours -- or anyone's but the people involved? It took the media less than 24 hours to find the hapless housekeeper's name, address, relatives and pictures of the child, and you can bet your last buffalo nickel that we've only heard the beginning of this sad saga... which isn't so different from all the other politicos who have done the same thing.

I have to admit I long for the days of secret trysts, like Ike's, FDR's, JFK's -- and everyone else's -- before the media consumed our world and forced these undesired details down our collective throat. In the week since he announced his candidacy for President, we've heard more about Fig Newt's love life and Tiffany bill than we have about his political ideals and agenda. I can understand disclosing facts that would be pertinent to a candidate's character, but the slimy details that thrive in the underbelly of the media could be skipped.

I'm not a theologian or psychic...
But I don't need to be either to see the writing on the Vatican wall if the Catholic Church doesn't get its act together soon and seriously (SERIOUSLY) address all the crises that are brewing among its billion-plus members (68,000,000 in the US alone, the largest Christian group). I play daily brain ping-pong by following both a rigidly-conservative online forum (catholic.com) and a wildly liberal daily news source, National Catholic Reporter (www.ncronline.org). (Membership is required on both of those sites to post, but you can read for free. Slip on your Kevlar vest before clicking.)

The conservative wing has gained a bit of momentum recently as the backlash to the changes of Vatican II Council continues, with the Pope leading with gusto the charge back to the 12th century. There are still Catholics around who long for the days of strict black-and-white rules that are never questioned, for fish on Friday and Latin masses with nary a guitar in sight, for never having to make a personal decision without the iron-fisted "guidance" of Holy Mother Church -- for everything that was safely in place from 33 A.D. until 1962. I've seen many postings on the conservative forum stating much of the sex abuse scandal has been exaggerated and perpetuated by "the media," by those who are only after money, and by the great world-wide conspiracy to destroy the Church. I've seen reluctance -- actually, a complete inability -- to find any flaw in anything the Church does, has ever done (except Vat. II) or will ever do. They appear to me to be more closely aligned with the Church than with its Founder...which I find ludicrous and alarming.

In postings from the lefty side (yes, my side), I see complete frustration along with virulent calls for immediate action against blind and arrogant Bishops -- including the Bishop of Rome -- for the abuse crisis that is still not solved or resolved, though progress has been made. We lefties dream of the implementation of our liberal agenda, which includes women's equality, including priestly ordination, birth control decisions left to couples, priestly celibacy becoming an option, loving acceptance of gays, intellectual freedom for theologians without censure, and probably most important, decision-making power by lay people. Currently, ALL decisions in the Roman Catholic Church are made by the ordained, which immediately excludes half of the human race -- my half.

The Middle East is not the only area where desire for freedom churns. The Protestant Reformation of the 16th-17th centuries did not occur in a void but partially from desire to rectify what was seen then as corruption in the Church. I'm a Catholic woman (which means an official nobody), but I'm convinced 21st century Rome is about to get rocked by a new revolution if it doesn't recognize and reform the culture of triumphalism, clericalism, sexism and traditionalism that has constipated it since the counter-reformation of the last three centuries. I just hope that Barack doesn't hear of these particular winds of change or he'll send in the troops to support this quest for freedom, also.

Grumpy Bits And Pieces

2011-04-25T10:53:00.001-07:00

"Peace" April 25, 2011

I used to follow a blog (which name I can't remember) that consisted of several short, pithy sentences posted during the day -- something akin to today's omnipresent 140-character tweets. These are my "tweets" for today. Obviously, I've yet to master the art of brevity.

I followed, probably along with you, the blanket coverage of the Japan disaster. Maybe it was my selection of news channels to follow and online sources to read, but I didn't see/hear/read ONE WORD comparing the earthquake/tsunami to the destruction caused by the United States' use of The Bomb in 1945 -- even when radiation complicated the whole mess. I think it would have provided an interesting and ironic parallel to the nonstop commentary, particularly the segments praising the Japanese people's "extraordinary resilience" and ability to recover quickly. I have to wonder..... hmmm.... why was this not discussed? Even weirder was NBC's fairly extensive coverage of the anniversary of the Doolittle Raid over Tokyo -- smack in the middle of the current misery in Japan.

I've never been a big fan of a certain talk show host who happens to be winding down her 25-year reign in May, although I've admittedly watched her occasionally over some of those years, including this final season. She's recapping her favorite shows with her favorite guests, favorite surprises, favorite topics -- and the most favorite person of all -- herself. With that kind of longevity in a medium not known for an attention span longer than a commercial, she's obviously given her public what they've wanted for 25 years -- surely a remarkable feat. I just find it so completely ironic when this celebrity, with a net worth well over a billion bucks, tells her audience how the quest for wealth is not important and can only lead to a personal spiritual vacuum. The irony grows when she praises "simple living" yet relishes feeding the greedy with her flamboyant giveaway shows. I also find irony when she, who has never raised a child, gives parenting advice; when she, with no credentials in the field, provides psychological counseling; when her "spiritual journey" (flavor of the month) becomes something we should all follow to achieve "clarity and enlightenment". I find it distasteful when she tells her look-alike, dress-alike, think-alike cloned audience that humility is desirable, yet stands in an Australian arena drinking up the crowd's adulation like a plant sucking up Miracle-Gro and sunshine. And don't even get me started on her diet advice. While she's exercised admirable (and publicized) philanthropy over the years...the nasty, mean side of me wonders...how much more could she have done and still live comfortably in her seven homes?

I'm such a dyed-in-the-wool little peacenik that war, police actions, uprisings and skirmishes that lead to war just make no sense to me. None. Zero. I may be able to understand defending one's country against an actual attack or credible threat, but anything less is simple proof of old-fashioned barbarism to me. Sorry, Republican friends...I really don't get it. Which means, I've never paid much attention to our involvement in Vietnam, the Persian Gulf, Iraq and Afghanistan, Libya -- or all the other places we've sent young men and women to die. Nor have I followed other countries' similar actions. Maybe someone can explain to me why Washington is threatening entitlement programs that are critical to the very life and health of various segments of our population yet ensuring our continued involvement in three military actions. (And don't give me that BS about Libya not being our fight...of course it is, per our President.)

I've been trying for at least 125 hours to produce a "query" to submit to publishers and/or agents to sell my medieval-themed children's book. The reason for the ridiculous amount of time spent? The quirky format that "oh-so-busy" screeners require -- which varies from person to person, with no actual rules or conventions...AND...the need to condense a 41,000 word novel into a 250-word pithy, intriguing tease, similar to the brief blurb you find on the back cover of a book. I've never in my life said, "I don't think I can write this..." but I'm coming to that point. I may self-publish the damn thing. At least I'd be certain that the screener (me) would be satisfied. HA!

Yeah, I'm pretty grumpy today -- it's raining, and we really haven't had any true spring weather yet, although it's only a week away from May. My roses are blooming like crazy, but they all think they've been moved to Seattle or, worse yet, back to Salinas. Happy Easter anyway -- Alleluia!

The Joys Of Aging -- Part 3

2011-04-08T12:23:00.000-07:00

Continuing my complaining about getting older and not smarter, here is my list of ways you know you're the old person you thought you'd never become. I'm sure there are other lists floating around the Internet in those "forwards" that everyone passes on like the herpes virus of the 70's, but I swear these are original.

YOU KNOW YOU'RE OLD WHEN:

You start saving bread wrapper twisties, plastic closures and rubber bands from asparagus, just like your mom did (and you thought for sure she was a nut case).
You also save paper and plastic bags beyond reason, never remembering that you'll get another supply with your next shopping expedition.
Speaking of Mom... you look more and more like her and use more of her methods, and those two things make you a touch suicidal.
You forget...pretty much everything...at one time or another, especially: movie titles, movie stars' names, your grandchildren's names, your phone number (yes, I did), why you were heading to the next room, even if you're not sure which room that would be, which day it is (but does it matter? One day is pretty much like another.), that you've read your current book before or seen this movie or TV episode before, and where you've put the list of everything you didn't want to forget.
You can't see to drive at night so you carefully follow the car in front of you, even when it turns into a shopping center you had no intention of visiting. Maybe they should make "scout cars" to lead us to our destinations.
You look forward to telemarketing or survey phone calls (to which you used to scream profanities) simply because you finally have someone to talk to. Even if it's an automated call.
Ditto the missionaries from the LDS, Seventh Day Adventist and Jehovah's Witness churches. It's particularly fun when you're Catholic and ~~think~~ you have ALL the answers to salvation.
Your shoes look like nuns' shoes from the 1950's. Wait...they ARE nuns' shoes from the 1950's.
Doctors' appointments are your only social outings -- and there are plenty of them.
You have Facebook and Twitter accounts, but you're not sure what the hell to do with them. Or why.
You might text on your phone, if you knew how, and if you could see the damn letters and numbers.
You're positive the school systems have not taught any English in at least 20 years. You can't help but proof-read everything you see online, in magazines and newspapers (yes, you still read them,) and you remember with longing the days when subject/verb agreement was mandatory and when editors actually edited for accurate content and style.
"I remember...." is the starting point for every conversations, especially when you're alone. (But who are you kidding...you don't remember diddly.)
You complain about your neighbor's stupid barking dog. They complain about the volume of your TV.
The last decent pop music you heard was maybe in 1986, you still listen to TAPES of the Bee Gees and disco, you yearn for the 1970's and would also yearn for the 1960's but can't remember them... and this time it's not because you're old.
The profanity and soft-to-medium-hard porn on TV and in movies makes you cringe -- even though your own language and past behavior couldn't stand up to any real scrutiny. You also can't believe the lyrics in hip hop and gangsta rap "music." (And you have to use Google to know how to spell both of those terms.)
You wonder why the hell the government just doesn't legalize and tax pot, but you don't dare discuss it in front of your Republican kids and their kids. How did they grow up to be so conservative, anyway?
Speaking of kids and grandkids -- have you seen or heard of helicopter parenting? Does it make you crazy, too? Do you worry your grandkid is going to want to take his/her wubbie (blankie) to college?
You have plenty of time to blog and no end of subjects to write about, but most of your family and friends who would read your blog are either not computer literate or they're tweeting in the Great Beyond.

And finally, you begin to wish you hadn't taken the advice so seriously to eat healthy foods and exercise...is there really a point to living until you're 90? Email me at cynblogger@aol.com if you know a good answer to that question.

"Say Cheese" -- Then Slash Your Wrists

2011-04-03T12:18:00.000-07:00

Continuing the whine from my last blog posting about transitioning to retirement, I had a most unpleasant experience this week -- a brush with reality. In fact, Reality whacked the crap out of me and left me bleeding in an alley.

In anticipation of selling and marketing my completed children's novel, I decided that now would be a good time (before I get one day older) to have professional photos taken -- you know, for the book cover, the magazine cover for my headline interview, the 10 x 20-foot still photo behind my interview with Oprah -- all the promotional stuff that goes along with enticing new readers.

I happen to know, (by virtue of being his mother,) a young man who moonlights as a portrait photographer -- specializing in excellent pictures of individuals, families and school classes. We set up an appointment for a sitting in a lovely outdoor setting with early spring light filtering through newly-green trees. He brought his kazillion-dollar equipment, I bought a new outfit, slathered on the makeup, curled the freshly colored hair and whitened my teeth.

The shoot was quick and easy -- pose, click, pose, click, smile, click, don't smile, click, turn, click, click, click, done. By that afternoon the proofs were available, and Reality smacked me upside the head.

I wrote about "age dysphoria" here -- which posting I called "The Big Secret Of Life" as no one EVER tells you that your self-image freezes at some particular age and you forever feel that same age "inside" -- no matter how the "outside" crumbles and decays.

What I found this week is that in addition to that skewed and flawed self-image, not only does your mind play this inimical trick on you, so does your vision. Until I saw those proofs I had NO IDEA that saggies, wrinklies, droopies, puffies, molies and spotties had, like creeping mold, taken over my once pleasant face.

Who the hell stole that somewhat attractive woman and put this old bag in her place? BRING HER BACK, I SAY!

I frantically emailed my son and begged (ordered) him to employ all the Photoshop skill he has -- which is considerable -- and take at least 10 years off my face. So he did. It didn't help. I begged him to take me back another ten years ( to1991) and he did, and it still didn't help. Apparently, there's only so much time traveling Photoshop can do, especially with a fatally flawed subject. Where I had been expecting to see Princess Diana, what I got instead was Elton John.

I finally figured out that for years I've only seen myself in my bathroom mirror (great lighting) without my glasses, and I'm so nearsighted I can't see my feet without them. No wonder I hadn't a clue of what visage I presented to the world. No wonder everyone calls me "ma'm" and treats me like a little old lady. Apparently I AM a little old lady. Who knew? (Everyone else... but certainly not I.)

Those pictures have been consigned to Limbo until I can figure out a way, just this side of plastic surgery, to seriously fool the camera. Do they make filters that eliminate 30 years of living? I'll have to check Google....

Also, I'm posting a comment on last week's blog about retirement that has some great advice, I think -- written by a friend who is SO much older than I and who has been retired, with his wife, for a few years. Just scroll down to the end of the previous blog and click on "comments."

Now Every Day Is Saturday

2011-03-27T13:46:00.000-07:00

In the past couple of months, I've inadvertently almost retired and accidentally almost closed my business. I still have enough client work to be able to shop for name brands, but my 55-hour work week in 1994 has dwindled to about 12.5 currently.

I'm not complaining, mind you. I've worked since I was 16 (part-time for my parents) and that's plenty of years for anyone. Retirement is an odd and difficult transition to make, though, when one's life has been defined by work.

As a single mom of two back in the days before single parenthood was a normal and accepted state, and deadbeat dads weren't prosecuted, my job had to come first or my little family would have become a sad statistic. I was audited by the IRS for deducting child care long before it was legal -- and won the case. I spent far more hours at work than I did being a mom, but somehow the kids became successful adults and great parents themselves -- more than a minor miracle. (Or maybe a statement that they did better without me micro-managing their every move -- teaching a kid independence isn't a bad thing.)

After battling and clawing my way up the corporate ladder (a woman in a strictly male industry, before equal rights was the law), I still had to be better than every other manager. Okay, they were all men so it wasn't that hard...but still...it meant longer hours, far-less-than-equal pay and very few of the perks the male managers enjoyed. (So what if I wouldn't have played golf, rafted down the Rogue River or vomited breakfast vodka on a deep-sea fishing trip -- I still wanted to be invited!) The day I resigned, threw my company car keys on the controller's desk and walked home was the third best day of my life. Seriously.

Starting a new business in a new profession with new skills but no experience and no potential clients was NOT a piece of cake -- but within a month of initial marketing, there I was -- truly "in business" for myself -- the fourth best day of my life, especially since I worked from home in my jammies. That was 17 years ago and my original client is my one remaining client -- the rest were given governmental incentives to convert to mandatory new technology. Thanks, American Recovery and Reinvestment Act of 2009. My own taxes paid to eliminate my own business -- oh, the irony.

I now have to make a real adjustment in letting go of my overactive, compulsive, pain-in-my-ass work ethic in favor of trying to transition to retirement. There's very little real advice online in doing this. The "advice" columns are so basic and contain such obvious and banal ideas that "duh!" is the only possible response. "Learn how to budget your reduced income." "Volunteer your time." "Garden." "Exercise." "Spend time with grandchildren." "Read." "Start a hobby." "Take a class." "Travel."

DUH! Thanks, anyway -- I was looking for something a little meatier -- like, how not to be seduced by trashy daytime TV, or how to make the kitchen literally disappear except at regular mealtimes, or what do you do with all these empty hours if you hate to shop, or how to avoid the constant temptation to add to your Kindle collection, or how not to go blind reading blogs all day, or how do you squeeze another trip to France from a non-existent vacation fund? You know, the really important retirement issues.

As I said, though, I'm not complaining. In fact, I LOVE:

Having time to write without checking the clock every 15 minutes.
Having time to actually market what I write.
Having time enough to do everything that must be done in my life, with a lot left over to just do nothing.
NEVER having to answer the damn phone for work.
Cheering the day I unplugged and packed away my fax and discarded very old computers and software manuals.
Having time to actually learn how to use my cell phone
Knowing I'll pay only itsy bitsy taxes on teeny tiny business income.

And the best part -- since I no longer have to structure my day and week around work commitments. every day is Saturday, except, of course, Thursday (trash day) and Sunday (church day).

Reviving CynWrites Blog

2011-03-17T10:39:00.000-07:00

It's been a year since I've written this blog (actually my Paris blog during April, 2010), but as I'm standing on the edge of a new cliff, I'm reviving CynWrites.

The cliff I'm facing is (hopefully) publishing and marketing a children's book I've been working on for the last couple of years. It's in the very final stages of revision and, if my 2011 horoscope is at all accurate, will be ready to face the world in about a month.

It's apparently required that every author pursuing publication be "active in social networking" in order to have any chance at all of success. We all know that the term "social networking" includes blogging, Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn and, of course, email access to every person in the world. Well...forget it. Blogging is as far as I'm willing to go.

Having been online (to the near-exclusion of real life) since 1997, I know better than most the real dangers of plastering authentic personal information all over the Internet. I've had a business website for ten years, and even on that (which was designed as a marketing tool for potential customers) I don't have personal info posted. "Yeah, I want your business, but I'm not telling you how to contact me. Ha!" A blind email contact form is as far as I'm willing to go.

Besides -- and this must be my age talking -- I simply and honestly don't understand this compulsion to "be connected" 24/7. In fact, not even 10 minutes/7 days. Have we as a people morphed into some kind of hive mentality? Are we that hungry for 15 seconds (used to be minutes) worth of fame or recognition? I just don't get the attraction of following someone's 140-character thought every time they have one. No one is that fascinating... sorry.

My cell phone (the old-fashioned kind) handles texting, but there has to be someone on the other end whom I'm sufficiently interested in to text. I'm not stupid technologically -- but my hand hasn't yet evolved to sport the IPhone attachment, either. I think it's hilarious to sit in a theater or stadium or (name it) and see at least 35% of the attendees playing with their phone, coincidentally removing their attention from those who have accompanied them to the event... a simultaneous inclusion (someone or something out there) to exclusion (someone or something right here). A conundrum in my mind -- as I said, it must be my age.

Anyway, CynWrites is back for all the thousands of people who have followed it the past years and the thousands more who will follow in the future. I'll be writing essays on cultural issues, newsy issues, the adventures of publishing (or not), but this time around I'm leaving the political commentary to those who know what they're talking about. I'm no pundit, and since I'm back on the political party fence, I've retired from punditry. I hope you'll follow along even if I'm not tweeting or poking or whatever the heck else you do on social networking.

I've also posted some favorite pictures from my stay in France last year -- right hand column, you can't miss them.

Screwed -- And Not Even A Kiss

2010-03-24T14:02:00.000-07:00

There have been as many words written about the Health Care Bill/Law as there are dollars stacked up in our National Debt, so I'm only going to add a few -- everything that could be said has already been said, anyway.

I wasn't around for the birth of Social Security, retirement was so far off in 1965 that I don't remember any of the flack over Medicare, and I guess my memory has failed so much that even the recent fight over Medicare's prescription benefit has drained out of my brain. Taken together, they provide at least a cushion of comfort and safety for retirees -- even more so if retirment planning wasn't possible or was ignored. I know millions of seniors are thankful for that trifecta of government goodies.

Those entitlements have been a part of our landscape for some time now and I'm pretty sure each was a fight, although they did have some bipartisan support, unlike Sunday's House vote on Obamacare.

Every day In my business I see gruesome examples of the damage inflicted by the lack of medical insurance and the inequities of the current system. I've experienced first-hand the frightening burden of my husband exceeding a lifetime medical benefit, and I worked my tail off trying to keep up with COBRA payments. I've thought for a long time that "something" should be done about some of these issues, particularly with regard to the working poor and those who struggle every day to just barely exist. I support on humanitarian and Christian grounds some sort of moderate solution to the obvious problems.

We did not get a "moderate solution" on Sunday night. We didn't get a reasonable way to provide medical insurance for those without. We got screwed by overwhelming reform, engineered by the dirtiest, sleaziest politics I've ever witnessed, as the Obamatank rolled over the majority of Americans' wishes. The idealist gasping its last breath inside of me wants to believe the Executive Order promise of no Federal funding for abortion -- the cynical realist says, right -- this from the most blatantly pro-abortion President ever elected. There will be a back door to that EO and it will be revoked or circumvented at the first possible opportunity (all hush-hush and denied, of course).

The next few months will be interesting and critical as conservatives try to walk this action back to a more sensible solution than has been shoved down our throats (or up the other way, if you choose...). I think Washington is in for a surprise at the resistance/revolution it has ignited. I still bite my nails and wonder, though, where ARE the intelligent, committed, dynamic leaders that the Republicans hope will whip the Dems in the next couple of elections? I hope they surface soon enough to get a foothold in the public consciousness before the next campaigns rev up.

Here are three links for you that say it all better and more succinctly than I ever could. Be sure to watch the video -- it's chilling.
HERE
HERE
and HERE.
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"...And The Gold Medal Goes To...."

2010-02-20T09:48:00.000-08:00

...NBC, for achieving the record in cramming the highest number of commercials into an hour's viewing time in broadcast history!

I LOVE the winter Olympics and watch all the events that make sense (Curling? Biathalon?) but this is the first year that I've sustained my own sports injury and had to be carried off the official spectator couch. Yep -- I'm now sporting a wrist brace for acute carpal tunnel syndrome from running the "fast-forward" and "mute" buttons on my TV's remote. Seriously -- I'm not kidding. My right hand/wrist/forearm HURT!

I record every single thing that I watch - no exception - as I refuse to watch even one commercial, EVER. My DVR is set to record every minute of the 2010 Vancouver Olympics, which makes it easy to scan through the kazillion hours of events for my favorites. (I don't know how people watch the Olympic coverage without recording it -- their brain must feel like a pinball machine after all the commercial bombardment.)

NBC's coverage of this Olympics, however, means that for every two minutes of an event shown, we are forced to endure at least eight (or more) 30-60-second commercials (I didn't watch them -- I counted them on fast-forward). Since most of the individual events take under five minutes -- many under two minutes -- there's a ratio in there that is appalling, even with my limited mathematical abilities.

Has anyone told NBC that DVRs exist and I can't be the only person skipping their revenue-producing commercials? No? Then let the selling begin!

I've long thought that some electronics genius could make a Bill Gates'-sized fortune if he/she perfected a way to interrupt the telecast just before each commercial and then resume play when the actual program starts again. I know you can't patent an idea, but if you're reading this, genius person, I want a cut of the profits.

I know nothing about programming or the economics of producing a two-week event in a remote location, so this is from a laywoman's perspective -- but holy cow! I wish I owned stock in GE, which is NBC's parent company. I suspect they're making big bucks for their mediocre coverage.

Mediocre coverage? Yeah -- in my opinion. I know we're the USA and we're supporting the USA Team -- rah, rah, and all that -- and we have garnered the highest number of medals so far. Yay for us. But the NBC coverage I've watched has been limited to US athletes with those few from other countries who were direct competitors. We're seeing about one-third, or fewer, of the competitors in each event. Doesn't it seem a little weird that they show wall-to-wall coverage of cross-country skiing but only the top eight or so of speed or figure skating competitors? It does to me. Coincidentally, these are also the media "stars" (spoiled brats) with the cloying profiles put together by -- you guessed it -- NBC.

And my injury with the mute button? As long as I'm bitching -- why does the proximity of a microphone mean that the person behind it has to talk through EVERY SECOND of every event? It's as bad as NFL football coverage.

I appreciate a brief explanation of technique, particularly in something as wacky as half-pipe snowboarding or the terrifying danger of downhill -- but good grief! I don't need commentary about every edge of a snowboard or ski, and I resent the wiseass commentator pointing out each imagined "mistake" when he's not up on that icy hill risking that wise ass -- even if he is basking in former Olympic glory.

The notable exception has been the restrained and very gracious commentary from Scott Hamilton and Sandra Bezic, who have had little to say during the actual performance, not talking over the music and the skating. Ice dancing, unfortunately, will apparently be a different story with blabbering Tracy Wilson at the mike.

On a kinder note -- who knew British Columbia was so fabulously beautiful? Check out THIS link. I'm saving my pennies for my next vacation -- if I have any left after my medical expenses for my Olympic injury.

P.S. Don't forget THIS link -- my adventure is only six weeks away. Vive la France!

The Noses Grow Longer and Longer

2010-01-25T11:44:00.000-08:00

When was the last time you believed, without reservation or nagging doubt, one word that you heard from anyone in political office? Is "oh, bullpoop" your immediate reaction? Can you honestly say that you take at face value the televised statements from congressional and presidential spokespersons and the principals themselves?

Exactly how stupid do those twisted souls in Washington and (insert the name of your state) think Americans are?

Or, even more frightening, how stupid are we to believe the downright lies we are fed day after day after day?

I choked on my tea last week as I briefly scanned the evening news. Mr. Obamarama, having been soundly trounced in his efforts to ram down our throats his unwanted, bloated, outrageously spendy health care reform, suddenly changed his tune and addressed "jobs" for the jobless, amid new and depressing unemployment rates -- while at the same time spanking Wall Street for their continuing evil practices and outrageous compensation packages. (Obama giveth and now Obama will taketh away, apparently.)

Obviously, some of his czars have decided (since the media has told them so) that the American public is most concerned about the economy, and that's what The Boss should be talking about. He's also rehired his campaign manager, David Plouffe, as head cheerleader and chief manipulator of the Obamarama presidency.

So, here we go again. For weeks, months, and probably years, we'll be treated to Obama The Candidate -- which is the only successful thing he's done in his remarkably less-than-illustrious political career. Like the Pinocchio he is (who, remember, was a wooden puppet long before he became a Real Boy), he will mouth pretty lies, repeating all the hopey and changey platitudes that got him elected in the first place, telling us over and over and over and over and over (etc.) what he and his "message crafters" think we want to hear.

Raise your hand if you think this conversation takes place daily in the West Wing: "For God's sake, don't forget that Americans are completely stupid. Don't tell them the truth about anything, especially if it makes us look bad. They don't have a clue about the country's real problems, but don't let them know we don't have a clue about any reasonable, practical options for solving them. In fact, don't do anything, period -- but by all means make it look like and sound like we have all the answers. Tell them anything -- they're dumb enough to buy it all. Above all, don't do any real governing -- just splash about in the kiddie pool and play to the polls. Blah, lie, blah, lie, blah, lie, blah, lie, blah, lie, blah, lie and blah."

Probably, because this strategy worked so well in his last campaign, a portion of the wide-eyed, idealistic voters will swoon again and swallow his swill, Obama's polling numbers will bump up and President O will claim public support and a rousing success.

Think back over the past few years of reprehensible political and personal scandals (both Republicans' and Democrats') that were perpetrated, denied, denied, denied, admitted to, apologized for and then forgotten.

Think of the promises made by congressional leaders -- who then backtracked each one in the name of expediency.

Think of the promises made in the 2008 election that have not been kept (transparency of process, for one).

If you dare, take a look at the concerns the conservative media had regarding Obama's qualifications, experience and questionable supporters, then take a look at the lies we were told about each of those.

Lying is certainly not limited to those who work in Washington -- or in State capitols -- but the bullshit detectors certainly seem to work overtime in D.C. I'm not by nature a cynical person, but following politics (even as casually and superficially as I do) can certainly turn an idealist into a prickly cynic in a very short time.

So, talk on, President O -- tell us what you think we want to hear -- give us another piece of pie in the sky -- move your lips to the puppeteers' dancing fingers. It's the only thing you're really good at -- but be careful, those are your pants on fire.
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Trying Not To Empty My Half-Full Cup

2010-01-01T12:39:00.000-08:00

I've never known an Aries person who is negative by nature (and I've known more than my share of Aries -- including the one I see in the mirror). We're considered the infants of all astrological signs -- self-involved, as children are -- but also idealistic and hopeful. Even when the bluebird of happiness potties on our parade, we, like Scarlett, simply look toward tomorrow and know it will be better...and it almost always is.

I have to admit that this past year has been a trying one for my sunny outlook, and I don't see much on the horizon of 2010 that will keep a smile on my face, unless I turn up my mouth with my fingers.

Oh, I'm not talking about my personal life -- I live probably the most stress-free and comfy existence in the U.S. But whenever I consider the national and international political landscapes, I can't help but feel a cloud of negativity descend.

I've lived through the "duck and cover" years of the cold war, the fear of imminent annihilation during the Cuban missile crisis, all the skirmishes, police actions, wars and assassinations since the 50's, the attacks of September 11th, and every other danger the 20th and 21st centuries have brought us. I've never felt as uncertain about our government as I do now, nor as nervous about the competency of any President as Obama -- along with his circus troop of czars and czarinas..

Anyone who has followed this little blog knows my position on the 2008 primaries, campaign and ultimate election of hopey and changey. The voting public was so completely hypnotized by polished prose and improbable promises, not to mention the completely blind and biased media, that critical thinking and cold reason lost the battle at the polls -- and, as it turns out, we will probably all be losers in the end.

I could go on and on in this vein, but I don't want to depress myself or you on the first day of a new year. Instead, I'm giving you a couple of links to recent articles that will do that job very nicely... take a few minutes and read them, if you're so inclined -- THIS ONE and THIS ONE.

If you like what they had to say, don't forget about THIS SITE for access to intelligent views contrary to what you see and read from the mainstream liberal media.

If Gallup or NBC/WSJ pollsters called to ask my opinion on this administration's effectiveness to date, and my confidence in Obama's presidency overall, I'm afraid I wouldn't give Obamarama the B+ grade he recently awarded himself. I'm pretty sure his grade would look a lot like my math grades in school -- pretty damn miserable.

On that note, let me wish you a Happy New Year -- that's "happy" as in let's pretend the coming year will see some gains in the economy for which taxpayers aren't footing the bill, let's pretend Congress will do as the majority of their constituents want, not as the dictator in the White House demands, and let's pretend all of 2010 tomorrows will be better days. I will if you will.
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A Personal Invitation

2009-12-22T11:48:00.000-08:00

For those few but faithful friends who are kind enough to read these postings, this is an invitation to visit this blog's spawn, "CynWrites: Adventure In France."

I'm sure you each know by now of my big adventure this coming April, when I will be spending that month in France. The new blog will serve as a travel diary, photo album and postcards home during that vacation.

I promise I won't bore you by writing about each meal, each time I can't communicate with a native and each time I get lost -- but you may find some of the places I visit interesting since they will mostly be off the usual tourist track.

Also, a major plus according to some, I'll be writing on a tiny little notebook computer with itsy bitsy keys, so I promise the posts will be short.

Anyway, please join me on my trip. The real fun begins on March 31st, but I'll be writing a few posts on that blog beforehand. You can access that blog from this one (the link is in the right-hand corner above) -- or once you're on the Adventure blog, simply bookmark it and check in now and then. I probably won't be sending email notices for every post -- that would be pretty damn annoying.

I'm wishing each of you a very Merry Christmas and sending you good thoughts for a wonderful year ahead.

xoxoxoxoxoxox
Cyn

Dancing With The Politicians

2009-11-24T13:20:00.000-08:00

As training for my business, I took a year-long course in most medical ologies -- physiology, pharmacology, radiology, terminology, etc, -- and, of course, anatomy. No where in those 37 pounds of books, tapes and videos did I see the position of the cranium and rectum reversed, as appears to happen to people seeking public office. This unexplained and undocumented condition also apparently afflicts those who comment on these esteemed personages.

I could provide you with a whole page of links to articles written in the past 60 days wherein liberal political pundits and other opinion-shapers are now quickly reversing their former wildly enthusiastic support for Obamarama, based on his muddled and sophomoric performance. What I find so ironic is that these pseudo-intellectuals are finally coming to the point of view that most moderates and conservatives took during the last presidential campaign.

Here is an excellent summary of where many of us stood all during Barackomania. This is the text of an email I received today, attributed to Ben Stein:

WE FIGURED HIM OUT! By Ben Stein
Why is President Barack Obama in such a hurry to get his socialized medicine
bill passed?
Because he and his cunning circle realize some basic truths:

The American people in their unimaginable kindness and trust voted for a pigin a poke in 2008.

They wanted so much to believe Barack Obama was somehow better and different from otherultra-leftists that they simply took him on faith.

They ignored his anti-white writings in his books. They ignored his quiet acceptance of hysterical anti-American diatribes by his minister,Jeremiah Wright.

They ignored his refusal to explain years at a time of his life as a student.
They ignored his ultra-left record as a "community organizer," Illinois state legislator, and Senator.
The American people ignored his total zero of an academic record as a student and teacher, his complete lack of scholarship when he was being touted as a scholar.

Now, the American people are starting to wake up to the truth. Barack Obama is a super likeable super leftist, not a fan of this country, way, way too cozy with the terrorist leaders in the Middle East , way beyond naïveté, all the way into active destruction of our interests and our allies and our future. The American people have already awakened to the truth that the stimulus bill -- a great idea in theory -- was really an immense bribe to Democrat interest groups, and in no way an effort to help all Americans.

Now, Americans are waking up to the truth that ObamaCare basically means that every time you are sick or injured, you will have a clerk from the Department of Motor Vehicles telling your doctor what he can and cannot do.

The American people already know that Mr. Obama's plan to lower health costs while expanding coverage and bureaucracy is a myth, a promise of something that never was and never will be -- a bureaucracy lowering costs in a free society. Either the costs go up or the free society goes away. These are perilous times.. Mrs. Hillary Clinton, our Secretary of State, has given Iran the go-ahead to have nuclear weapons, an unqualified betrayal of the nation. Now, we face a devastating loss of freedom at home in health care. It will be joined by controls on our lives to "protect us" from global warming, itself largely a fraud if believed to be caused by man.

Mr. Obama knows Americans are getting wise and will stop him if he delays at all in taking away our freedoms. There is his urgency and our opportunity. Once freedom is lost, America is lost. Wake up, beloved America .

I've never understood how those of the American public operating with more than half a brain voted for someone so patently underqualified as the uber-articulate Obama. However - and equally alarming -- neither do I understand those conservatives who are jumping on the Palin bandwagon and proclaiming her contender-in-chief in 2012. One word should stop them -- the same word that was NEVER applied to Obama during his campaign -- qualifications.

Just as I found Obama's public speechifying electric, so I find Sarah Palin personable, likeable, admirable in her firm commitment to conservative values and the way she apparently lives those values in her personal life.

However, I also think that under no circumstance whatever is she qualified for the office of VP or P of the US, just as I felt, and still feel, that Obamarama has certainly undergone that anomalous anatomical change mentioned in the first paragraph above.

Deciding on who leads the overgrown government of this vast and complex country should not be a popularity contest. There seems to be major confusion between Dancing With The Stars and Dancing With The Politicians... except that DWTS doesn't impact every facet of our lives the way the DC dancers do. The American public has become so enslaved to flashy, superficial presentation that true ability comes in a poor second every time, in direct proportion to all loss of critical thinking. What does that say about the voter and the relentlessly manipulative liberal media?

So, who's next -- Donny Osmond for President? Or maybe it's time to draft one of those oh-so-clever cartoon people -- that's it. Shrek for President, 2012.

Give me a freaking break.
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Gobble, Gobble, Gobble

2009-11-16T09:23:00.000-08:00

(This post was originally published in November, 2007. I must be getting so old that my brain is frozen -- I still feel the same way.)

By now the mass turkeycide is over and our kitchens are filled with plump, stuffed (tasteless) birds, oceans of gravy are undergoing their own private global warming, and millions of pies sit under ceramic covers, representing billions of sugar and fat calories yet to be consumed.

Our annual National Feast Day has arrived...one single day dedicated to collective gluttony, though it may masquerade as a Day of Thanks, or even the prelude to a weekend of football, family reunion and celebration.

As it does every year, I'm sure the news Thursday night will be chock full of stories of stranded travelers whose only goal in life (The Meal) has been thwarted by crowded skies and cold-hearted airlines. We'll view the standard video of Good Samaritans, giving up their own holiday to feed the homeless sixty kazillion pounds of turkey and potatoes.

Possibly somewhere, in an effort to highlight the obesity epidemic in the U.S., some news reporter will break down the typical dinner's calories for us, and we'll see more video of those faceless, jello-tummied people who are always used to illustrate these stories. This segment will, no doubt, be sandwiched in between recipes for pumpkin delight and turkey leftovers, or instructions on how to carve The Bird.

I'm equally sure that every 90 seconds commercial interruptions will disturb the Macy's parade, every football game and everything else aired on cable and satellite TV in order to hawk the beginnings of holiday sales. For that matter, I've already seen ads for department store openings at 4 a.m. Friday morning. That's even before the turkey et al will have had time to sail through our digestive processes!

Aaaarggghh!!! Can you tell Thanksgiving isn't one of my favorite holidays?

Never do I hear anything the least bit inspirational about truly giving thanks related to this day. It's all about food, airlines, food, discount sales, food, the impending holidays and the GNP, and more food.

I like tradition as much as the next person... maybe more, considering I'm Catholic and tradition is very big with us. (Show me any process or experience and I'll find a way to ritualize it every time.) There's just something about this particular tradition that rankles me. Maybe if I'd grown up in the Midwest, or maybe if my family had been larger, or closer...or maybe if I didn't dislike turkey or didn't feel guilty about eating pie...or if the traditional dinner didn't take so damn long to prepare and then disappear so quickly and leave such a MESS... maybe then I'd feel more positive about this day.

Frankly, Thanksgiving Day annoys me with its dishonesty and hypocrisy.

If this is truly a national day to give thanks, why isn't it for us religious-minded folk a huge church-going day like Christmas and Easter (are supposed to be)? For those not involved in religion, why isn't more emphasis placed on enumerating the incredible and very real blessings that we Americans enjoy as our assumed right?

If, perhaps, this thanks-giving is done at home with extended family around the bounty of a table laden with excess, this particular devotion is rarely, if ever mentioned or portrayed by our scrupulously secular media. (Of course, giving thanks implies Someone whom one is thanking. God forbid we acknowledge the existence of that Person, no matter what the historical origin of this holiday may be -- no matter what the Presidential Proclamation may say!)

If we made a list of the things we have to be thankful for and compared that list to one that a citizen of any third-world country might make...the contrasts would be both stunning and sickening.

But instead all we can find to do on this day is EAT? I just don't get it. I guess since Christmas and Easter have been corrupted into mostly commercial events, I shouldn't expect anything different from Thanksgiving Day. So shoot me with a bow and arrow for still being idealistic.

From my healthy and loving family and friends to the contentment of living in an abundance of silence and solitude, from the freedoms I enjoy that have been safeguarded through others' sacrifices to the embarrassing riches of my comfort-filled, peaceful life, I'm aware of my own personal blessings every single day. I think about them every day and (honestly) give thanks for them every day... and I surely don't need a dead bird in the oven to do it.

But, far be it that I flout hundreds of years of tradition... Happy Thanksgiving, Gentle Readers.

So...33 days until Christmas. Got gifts?

Time To Eat The Dog

2009-10-22T12:02:00.000-07:00

I know the greenies are taking over the world -- at least the media world -- and I know I'm absolutely on the wrong side of the politically correct fence most of the time with regard to climate change and all the nonsense that goes with it. The article below, however, has reached the pinnacle of Mount Ridiculous. I'm offering it to you as your laugh for an ~~Indian Summer~~ Native American Summer Thursday.

TIME TO EAT THE DOG.
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Third Annual Blog Action Day -- 2009, Climate Change

2009-10-15T14:22:00.000-07:00

Welcome to the third annual Blog Action Day, explained thusly by BlogActionDay.org:

"Blog Action Day is an annual event that unites the world's bloggers in posting about the same issue on the same day on their own blogs with the aim of sparking discussion around an issue of global importance. Blog Action Day 2009 will be the largest-ever social change events on the web. One day. One issue. Thousands of voices."

If you're a good little greenie and/or a good little liberal, you of course expect my posting to be on the impending disaster caused by the nasty old industrially-produced climate change, and all the grotesquely expensive methods we must employ to remedy such change. After all, this is the only respectable, politically correct standpoint, right?

Sorry, Gentle Readers -- I skipped that particular pitcher of Kool-Aid.

Having always marched to the rat-a-tat-tat of my own drum, I've trawlled the web to bring you links to subversive articles that controvert the "correct" position. I'm sure there is evidence (objective, factual, truly scientific evidence that is not politically or financially motivated nor controlled) indicating that we are in the beginning stages of a "climate change" of some sort. There is also ample evidence that this dear Earth has never STOPPED changing -- according to its own natural course and unaffected one whit by human critters.

I find the Climate Change Chicken Littles of the world laughably, ironically, ridiculously arrogant in their assumptions that A) we have more than incidental impact on the Earth's atmosphere and climate; B) that because we are accustomed to this particular eon's temperature, ocean levels, ice pack volume, weather behavior, etc., these are the only conditions under which the human race could possibly survive, and we could NEVER adapt to anything else. This stance ignores the reality that we the living are proof that we HAVE adapted over millions of years to everything nature has thrown at us. I wasn't issued a contract at birth promising that summer in my chosen environment will be 85-100 and winter 55-15 degrees. Human history has been written within the context of suffering and surviving nature's whimsy -- yet here we are, all 6,798,000,000 of us.

If you don't think this science or pseudo-science of climate change is linked directly to issues that will affect YOU, Google "cap and trade" and see what will await average, every-day American consumers if this madness is passed. HERE is an article from the Wall Street Journal that in a rational world would be satire, but terrifyingly isn't as this bill awaits Congress' action.

Note: I wrote most of this blog on Sunday, 10/11. On Tuesday, I received a message from the organizers of Blog Action Day. In light of the last link of this post (#10, below), I'm posting part of that email (don't you just LOVE irony!):

Hey bloggers,
We have exciting news! Blog Action Day has partnered with Al Gore's group the Alliance for Climate Protection to start a global online action addressed to the one country whose actions will most influence the future of our climate: the United States.

As many of you know, this December world leaders will gather in Copenhagen to negotiate a global response to climate change. As a world leader in greenhouse gas pollution as well as clean energy technology, the United States needs to take bold and urgent action by implementing comprehensive clean energy policies to curb emissions.

Nobel Peace Prize Winner and President Barack Obama has said that climate change is an urgent threat, and now is the time for him to lead the United States in confronting climate crisis.

Now that I've stated my own disbelief in the new religion of Climatism, here are a few links for your education and amusement.

1) Green Myths on Globel Warming

2) Nasa Debunks Part Of Global Warming, Will Media Report It?

3) An Inconvenient Truth: Exposing The Global Warming Myth

4) Junk Science (via FOX) The Greenhouse Myth

5) Snopes.com Reporting On Global Warming

6) Thousands Of Scientists Sign Petition Against Global Warming

7) The Deniers The World Renowned Scientists Who Stood Up Against Global Warming Hysteria, Political Persecution, and Fraud

8) Why Global Warming Alarmists Are Losing Their Case

9) Mars Melt Hints At Solar, Not Human, Cause For Warming

10) And, just to be mean, HERE is the article, with links to others, about how Prophet Gore profits from the carbon credit scam, also linked to "climate change."

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Time For Some Exercise, Computer Potatoes

2009-10-09T14:47:00.000-07:00

I'm not naming names -- you know who you are.

Because I CARE about your health, I'm providing you with a few exercises right here on this page that will elevate your heart rate by at least one beat, raise your serotonin level (the one that makes you feel HAPPY, as though you had just eaten chocolate), and possibly lower your LDL cholesterol by a half a point.

Ready?

Raise your right hand if you remember when Al Gore "won" the Nobel Peace Prize for the environment.

Now, raise your left hand if you think the Nobel committee is out of its collective freakin mind for its choice anounced today.

Reach down to the floor with your right hand if you could care less whom Dave Letterman has slept with in the past ten years.

Reach down to the floor with your left hand if you're suprised that anyone would EVER sleep with him.

Sit up straight and wiggle your right foot if you were disappointed in the results after all the hype about "bombing the moon."

Wiggle your left foot if you think you'll actually puke the next time someone says the phrases "health care reform," "global warming," "swine flu vaccine," or "stimulus."

Stick your tongue out at the monitor if you're sick of hearing about Jon and Kate Gosselin.

Lick the monitor if you actually follow their antics and care about them.

Tilt your head to the right if you're sick and tired of pundits on TV and the web "interpreting" and "explaining" the news to you at every turn.

Tilt your head to the left if you wish you'd never heard the name Barack Hussein Obama in your lifetime.

Tilt your head back and look toward heaven if you hope you never have to see/hear another speech from B.H.O.

Shift onto your right cheek (yeah, that one) if about 98% of what we see on TV looks and sounds just.........nuts.

Now shift to your left cheek if you wish we could turn back the clock to say, October, 1952.

Give a little shimmy if you would be embarrassed to watch 80% of the commercials on TV with a kid in the room.

Give a big shimmy if you'd be embarrased to watch them even with your spouse.

I know you're probably tired after all that movement, but here's the last one.
Stand up.
Turn to the East, toward Washington D.C. and/or Norway (your choice)
Raise your right hand.
Now, fold down your pinky, your ring finger, your index finger and your thumb.

Didn't that feel GOOD?
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Random Ramblings (or, she's in a very bad mood)

2009-09-26T11:12:00.000-07:00

Random Rambling Number 1.
I haven't read or listened to anything about Mackenzie Phillips beyond the headlines, so I may be writing this without all the facts (nothing new in the blogging world...). This is one more aspect of our American culture that I don't understand -- why are the most personal, sordid, illegal, embarrassing and tragic events of a person's life (usually a celebrity) exposed to the world -- and why does the world care about these things? The rationale usually given is "so I can help someone else learn from my experience." The actual immediate truth is, "so I can sell my book," although the reason for writing the book may be under the guise of "helping" others.

And to this I cry, bullshit.

I find the lack of privacy in our culture disturbing and distasteful to the max -- and quite alarming, and this goes for Facebook, Twitter, all other social networks and the very personal forms of blogging.

When I grew up, it was called exposing one's dirty laundry to the world and was to be avoided at all costs -- now it's called being open, honest and "taking responsibility for one's actions." I wonder why this open and honest method of taking responsibility can't be confined to one's family or individuals directly affected by the smarmy situation. Do you really want to know all this stuff? I sure don't. I also don't want to know who has had plastic surgery on which body parts, who has been in drug/alcohol/sex addiction/ rehabilitation one more time, or the vast number of people with whom one has been romantically (ha!) involved with. I'm also not sure why the general public is expected to respond "Bravo! Well done!" when a celebrity has exited rehab for the 14th time or owned up to the latest felony.

Excluding the financial return on their confessions, maybe if these people need to assuage their guilt so desperately, they should investigate the Catholic faith, which celebrates the sacrament of Reconciliation weekly.

Apparently I'm in the minority on this one, though, as these expose-everything-including-my-ouchie-piercing books become best sellers. What does that SAY about our culture? Certainly nothing very flattering, for either the exposer or the lapper-upper. I know "right" and "wrong" are completely out of fashion and qualities only a right-win nutcase might value, but dammit, some things really are WRONG, and I'm neither buying their books nor applauding the victims or perps.

Random Rambling Number 2.I haven't felt up to blogging about Obamarama in the past ten days or so because...well...I'm really sick of seeing his face and hearing his drone, particularly when it comes to his hard, hard, hard sell on health care. It did occur to me on the occasion of his 437th redundant speech that he is a victim of his birthday and his astrological sign of Leo, the Lion. I know, I know, astrology is bunk...but I learned it at my mother's knee, and much of it is truth to me. Indulge me -- and see who this sounds like to you: (Excerpted From Linda Goodman's Sun Signs)

"You may find him making flowery speeches... on a stage or in front of a circle of adoring friends. He may waste money but...there will always be an audience."
"Beneath his courteous manner...are smoldering fires of proud dignity and arrogant vanity..."
"He'll either get the center of the stage with dramatic statements and actions, or he'll get it by pouting and sulking..."
"Leos just can't help feeling superior and behaving dramatically..."
And my favorite paragraph: "Is he kindhearted or dangerous, generous or cruelly selfish? Does he gain his reputation for superiority under false pretenses. Whether the Leo man is truly a king or just a pretender to the throne, we may never know. He has insatiable appetites, and he's as proud as a peacock. He has an enormous need to command and to be loved by those he rules. He secretly fears he may fail and be ridiculed . It's a constant inner torture, and the true source of his vanity and exaggerated dignity."

(with apologies to Cathy, my Leo niece, who is an official dues-paying Friend Of Cynwrites.)

Random Rambling Number 3.
I don't know how valid or respectable THIS LINK is -- it was sent to me by an old friend who parks his car on the right side of the road, but it looked intriguing to me. If you follow the link to THIS ONE, you reach an internet organization, "Operation, Can You Hear Me Now" which is a group dedicated to exposing the liberal bias of the mainstream media. It's about damn time!

Of all the topics I've written about in this blog the past couple of years, this is the one I feel is the most critical and the most downright frightening.

The simple truth (in my vision) is that if one watches only the Big Four network news programs (NBC, ABC, CBS, CNN) and reads only newspapers like the NY Times, one receives such a slanted, biased viewpoint that all objectivity is lost. If you consider all the critical issues we face as citizens of the world in 2009 and how important facts are to each of us -- then you consider that the "facts" we are served are as twisted as a cop's cruller -- the outlook for the accuracy of our knowledge and excellence of our decisions based on that knowledge is grim.

We are at the mercy of the folks who work the trenches and ferret out the news for us -- but they then apply their own spin to shade the presentation of that news. Whether this is due to their own innate bias, the bias of the editorial/managerial staff or the corporations paying the bills simply doesn't matter.

What matters is, ordinary citizens following only the Big Four and newspapers like the NY times do not get objective facts because the writing slants so far to the left. It seems to me in the past three months or so that Joe and Mabel Everyperson are at last wising up to this. I've seen more about liberal bias in this time period than in all of the past two years -- and believe me, I've been looking for it (in vain thus far).

We have lamentable, ridiculous political polarity in our country, where each side considers its views as originating from the single valid perspective. We need all of these viewpoints, and the tenets they are based upon, to be presented factually, objectively, without bias. We deserve nothing less from our "news" organizations, and if we get less -- if we get what we've been getting for 40+ years -- we can't call it news. We can call it opinion or entertainment -- but it doesn't meet the criteria for news.

OK, I'm done rambling. Have a groovy weekend.
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Jimmy Carter Says I'm A Racist...

2009-09-16T10:11:00.000-07:00

...so, I guess if a senior Democratic luminary like former President Carter says it, it must be true.

I didn't support Barack Obama's candidacy for president because I couldn't figure out how or why he was qualified to hold that office. His only credentials were that he was 1) a lawyer; 2) a former "community organizer"; 3) a junior Senator from Illinois who had no legislative credits to his name but managed to vote "present" in the Senate. Yeah, that makes me a racist.

I was alarmed at the internet reports of Obama's ties with ACORN and puzzled that the trusted mainstream media didn't provide any investigative efforts to this questionable link. Since ACORN helps the poor, which in the East means African-Americans in the majority, I'm certainly a racist on this question. We all know now what a sterling organization ACORN has been. The Senate proved it yesterday.

I found the yes/no/yes/no relationship between Obama and convicted domestic terrorist William Ayres far more than questionable -- on the continuum to frightening -- and didn't believe for a second the whitewash (oops) that relationship was given in the campaign. I've also felt nervous about Obama's ties to sleazy Chicago politics (where some of his closest advisors hail from.) One more racist strike against me.

Anyone who has read this blog over the past year knows my feelings and fears about the liberal bias in the media -- which bias is being recognized and talked about more and more. Because I don't believe everything the MSM has to say about the Obama presidency -- and because I wonder why they don't say more about the failures to date of his administration -- I'm a racist, pure and simple.

Within my limited understanding of powerhouse economics, I'm sure some Federal action was necessary to ward off an even deeper recession than the one we're enjoying now, but some of Obama's actions and policies have seemed so cavalier with taxpayer money -- your money, my money. I worry about oversight and accountability for the billions that have been promised in "stimulus funds." I worry about adding to a national debt that will burden my great-great grandkids. That worry is only exacerbated by the knowledge that Obama's employment history doesn't include a day when he was required to make a profit. (Well, maybe some of his billable attorney hours supported a profit center, but that office didn't carry his name, did it.) Yeah -- scratch another mark in the racist column.

I've written at length here about Obamacare and wondered why we have to attack such a massive problem at this particular time -- when the economy is still so sluggish and experts predict high unemployment for years to come. Millions of jobs lost are lost for a long, long time -- particularly when the administration is so obviously anti-business. I wonder about the rush to pass health care legislation when none of it will even take effect until 2013. I wonder why we can't just fix the obvious problems now in small steps, instead of putting a massive portion of our economy and way of life in the blender and ending up with a smoothie labeled "more government control." Oh God, that surely makes me a racist, doesn't it.

I'm confused about the inner workings of the West Wing, where 40 smarty-pants are called "czars" and enjoy unprecedented access and influence over the President -- including the stellar Van Jones of recent fame. Why, how dare I question the nation's CEO's method of managing his administration -- surely, I'm a racist.

Even though I discussed (here) my personal lack of patriotism, I've not applauded our President's performances during his international visits. I've felt embarrassed at his wimpy strategy of apology during his many speeches. I wonder about his appeasement of Chavez and Iran and his odd stance with Israel. I don't think America has been 100% right 100% of the time, but for God's sake, he's representing our country and appears to be ashamed of it...odd, when he wanted the job so damned bad. Oh mea culpa, slap my racist cheek!

The most damming evidence against me, though, is the fact that I don't swallow whole the chunks of bullshit that are thrown from the White House and mainstream media hourly. I actually choose to research facts from other sources, I try to apply some of my own life experiences and, dare I say it, wisdom, to the problems we all face, and too often that research and thought don't agree with the Obamarama party line.

Yes! Yes! I'm a racist. I no longer support the liberal/progressive/Democratic views, so the only conclusion those small-minded, close-minded people can draw is that I'm a racist.

What a cheap shot, President Carter. What a limited viewpoint. What a pity.
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My 46-Billion-Dollar Laugh For The Day

2009-09-13T14:32:00.000-07:00

Some say there's no such thing as coincidence, and so I did a double-take today when I watched CBS Sunday Morning's story on computerizing medical records -- which 46-billion dollar project has already been signed, sealed and delivered by our generous Congress (article HERE).

Why the double-take? Because I had just written a few days ago HERE about my personal experience in computering eight retail lumber facilities and the toll it took on the manager of the project (me), the implementation specialist (me), the trainer/facilitator (me), and my long-suffering, faithful Brit assistant and support tech, Alana, who also quit at the end of the project. Rumor has it her blood pressure and sanity were stable on her last day (unlike mine).

Compared to the vast reach of the Federally-funded project, which comes with its own Obama-czar, my effort was minuscule -- something like comparing the first Kitty Hawk airplane to an Apollo rocket -- but the molehill problems I encountered have much in common with the moutain facing the health care industry.

According to CBS and the above article on privacy issues, fewer than 20% of medical facilities are now computerized, relying instead on handwritten and hand-filed paper charts. Congress' largesse will reimburse medical facilities $40-65 thousand dollars for their computerization (not paying for it up-front), and the most laughable part of this program is its deadline -- 2014.

There's no way in hell this is going to happen. It took me four years to computerize eight facilities, and I had a basically unlimited budget and years of computer and managerial experience.

The business I have operated for the last15 years is an ancillary service related to health care -- in particular, to health care records. Based on that experience, (and not intending to offend anyone who might not meet this profile), clerical staff positions in docs' offices, clinics, labs and hospitals are usually that of entry-level personnel, managed by people who have worked their way up without credentialed management training, and certainly without much technical training. Any physician/owner, who I would guess to be over 45, doesn't exactly dance around on keyboard either. Mid-sized and large offices often have a computer consultant who manages their systems -- techie guys who are not employees and therefor not on site all the time. Add to this mix language problems, particularly in border states, because "entry level" very often means ESL workers necessary to service ESL patients, and you have a sure recipe for disaster.

My largest client converted to an electronic medical record system about ten years ago. The actual transition took over two years, but their EMR system is not 100% effective even today. It can "talk to" one hospital in the area but not to four others, which certainly negates the universal-access claim the proponents have touted as the answer to all medical errors. The Feds have NOT YET established standards between computer software choices so communication will be possible -- yet this is all supposed to be accomplished by 2014?

Remember the old mantra GIGO -- garbage in, garbage out? It's a cliche because it's just too true. Breathe deeply, count to ten and enjoy the following relaxation exercise.

Visualize a room the size of your house filled top to bottom with paper charts spanning at least 10 years' history for each patient in your doctor's practice.

One of those file folders is yours, hopefully (but not necessarily) with your correct name, Social Security number and your birthday. Think about your current state of health, your medication allergies, all the intimate details of your medical history written in your chart, including every time you've phoned the office, had an office visit, a prescription, lab or x-ray test or been admitted to the hospital. Now visualize your doctor's handwriting. Then think about all the errors in billing you've experienced, both from the doc's office and especially the hospital -- and the hassles you've had trying to resolve those errors with them AND your insurance company.

Now picture Lolita with her two-inch fingernails and nose ring, chewing her gum, thinking about her boyfriend and her new Victoria Secret teddy while she works and chats with her coworker about last Saturday night. She makes $8.50 per hour. She's entering or scanning YOUR data into their new system.

Lolita has very little, if any, medical training and her English isn't so hot. She can't spell the drugs you've taken, she can't read the doc's scribble, so she skips stuff or garbles it. Fourteen lab slips and other pieces of critical information swirl around her tatooed ankles as she tries to scan them, but the scanner jams or just doesn't record, AND she's mixed up your information with the next patient's chart. She doesn't notice the errors and she doesn't know she's incompetent. Her supervisor is so overwhelmed by continuing her regular daily duties to keep the practice afloat AND get these **&(%%$# records computerized that she doesn't notice Lolita's errors, either.

Now, take that same scenario and multiply it by every medical facility in the land. Your tax dollars at work. YAY. This is one of those instances where the theory sounds peachy and the reality will be one of the biggest messes we've ever experienced.

I don't pretend to know a lot about national and international politics or Wall Street investments or world economics or many other important issues of the day.

I DO know a lot about computerizing facilities that employ uneducated, incompetent, untrained, often untrainable, workers and what the end result can look like.

These porkulus funds have already been allocated, the absolutely unrealistic and unattainable deadline has been set, and there are high hopes for its successful completion.

What are those other old cliches? Pie in the sky? When pigs fly? When hell freezes over? Or all of the above...
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Slippery As A Snake

2009-09-10T09:14:00.000-07:00

I've ranted on so much lately about Obamacare that frankly I'm boring myself, and I assume I'm boring you even more. I'm not going to analyze a speech I couldn't bring myself to watch, having reached Obama-overexposure-saturation point -- but I am suggesting that you read this article posted by PowerLine. It covers every salient point from the perspectives of FACT and REALITY and says everything I would say, only much better, and I don't have to do all that typing.

Oh, yeah -- there are only 1228 days to go in this presidential term. Whew!
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Houston, We Have A Problem

2009-09-07T17:16:00.000-07:00

Aside from working as a "community organizer" the only skills Obama has thus far shown the public are 1) speechifying, and 2) getting elected due to his proficiency in #1.

It's no accident that his 9/7/09 speech to the AFL-CIO harkens right back to these two skills -- whenever a tough situation arises, make a speech, rouse the crowd to cheer "Yes, We Can" and think you've done your job.

I don't claim to be an expert on the inner workings of Congress, but isn't "debate" one of the players in the great legislative game? There exist many avenues by which proposed legislation becomes law, (see this link, if 7th grade was a long time ago for you, too,) and debate is certainly part of the process.

Now, in this speech to Labor, Obama is telling us the time for debate is over? To the best of my recollection, we don't have a viable bill in either the House or the Senate, nor has the eagerly-awaited magic Obama White House bill yet been unveiled -- but the debate is over?

Houston, what the heck?

I find it incredibly frustrating that those who speak in opposition to West Wing proposals are continually accused of "spreading lies," of being "right-wing extremists" or "special interest groups" determined to sandbag the Democrats' plans. Those epithets trickle down from the Obama spout all the way to network media.

Why can't the opposition be considered exactly that -- those opposed to health care/insurance reform, as it has been presented, based on ideological or budgetary grounds? Why must everyone not marching in lock step with President O be constantly demonized?

This is taken from the above AFL-CIO speech (in case you didn't click the link):

"I've got a question for all these folks who say, you know, we're going to pull the plug on Grandma and this is all about illegal immigrants -- you've heard all the lies," Obama said. "I've got a question for all those folks: What are you going to do? What's your answer? What's your solution?

"And you know what? They don't have one."

The president seemed eager to recapture some of the enthusiasm that propelled him during his campaign. A prolonged recession has sapped morale, he said, as have pundits who warn that "this isn't working and that's not working."

In the face of a collective "funk," Obama reprised a story from the 2008 campaign about a South Carolina official who electrified one of his appearances through a chant of "Fired up; ready to go!" The story was not part of his prepared speech, and the White House later said Obama had launched into it spontaneously. If nothing else, the chant buoyed his aides, who whooped and shouted as the president trotted out the anecdote.

With about 20,000 people listening in and outside the pavilion, Obama said "every debate at some point comes to an end. At some point, it's time to decide. At some point, it's time to act. Ohio, it's time to act and get this thing done."

Yeah -- let's shut down debate and just "act and get this thing done" while we don't have a consensus, while the Congressional Budget Office has controverted Obama's own team's analyses and before Obama's own bill has seen the light of day.

Sounds like a good plan to me -- sounds about like the rest of this administration's actions to date.

Maybe I missed something in the last nine months -- what the hell's the hurry about passing this critical, sweeping, overwhelming legislation that will affect nearly everyone in America in some way or other?

Reform may be inevitable, but shouldn't it be measured, thoughtful and the best solution possible?

Obama may be "fired up and ready to go" but my money isn't all that eager to leave my bank account until we have a plan that just may actually work. We all know these programs NEVER get repealed. This reform will be with us until, well, forever. Can't we wait and do it right, instead of being forced to do it wrong, right now?
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The Problem Is Obvious -- But The Solution Is Three Years Away

2009-09-04T18:35:00.000-07:00

Back in the olden, not-so-golden days of my corporate servitude, I played midwife to an aging generation of managers who were forced to enter the world of technology as I computerized their retail lumber stores. It was a grim project as 1) they were all men over 40; 2) they were old-school lumbermen, macho dudes who chewed tobacco and used redwood logs for toothpicks; 3) they were techno-babies who couldn't type, spell, or click a mouse, and God forbid they learn the logic of a rudimentary product numbering system; and 4) they resented the hell out of this ~~smart-ass bitch~~ woman who actually thought she knew something.

That thankless project took four years to accomplish -- four years that came directly off my lifespan, by the way. Ultimately the computer gods required a sacrificial lamb -- me -- who quit at the end of the project, blood pressure soaring, mind turning to mush and absolutely determined to never again work for or with anyone remotely resembling a male human.

I did learn one important fact, though: You can't work beyond your level of competence for long without drowning in your own failure and bringing down everyone around you.

Each manager of those seven retail outlets (gross income in the mid-eight figures annually) was unprepared, inexperienced and unqualified for the job he held. They had all attained their positions through political maneuvering and expert ass-kissing. Once established at the top of their individual food chain, they completely relied on corporate managers who did the tough parts of their job for them -- including all of their thinking. The only thing these uber-woodsmen did for themselves was sign their big, fat bonus checks.

The single asset these goofballs brought to the table was their ability to slap backs, wine, dine and grease the customer. (I had an earlier theory that their elevated management status was due to each harboring a penis in his pants, but that's another blog.)

As it turned out, none of those managers (or their corporate counterparts) was able to make informed, tough and correct decisions when hard times struck in the form of stiff big-box competition, a slowing building trend and stringent environmental regulations. One by one they teetered and dropped off the pinnacle of their meager success, never to be heard from again. That particular company is 100% different from what it was 15 years ago.

So what's my point? This article by Charles Krauthammer details the many ways President Obamarama has been swimming in deep water ever since his ~~coronation~~ inauguration. It's a classic example of what I observed so closely in that former life -- a person in power battered by the flotsam and jetsam of uninformed, bad decisions, drowning in his incompetence -- and just possibly sinking the Ship of State with him.

Note: If you're asked to register to read the Krauthammer article from the Washington Post, don't hesitate. Registration is free and you're not obligated in any way, nor do you receive any annoying email.
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Papier Mache Hero, R.I.P.

2009-08-28T09:28:00.000-07:00

Being an Aries and therefore a natural optimist (my glass is usually more than half full), taking a negative stance so often in this blog goes against my nature, but.... it's hard to remain Pollyana while swimming in crap. Ewww.

We're in the middle of yet another media event with the macabre circus surrounding Senator Edward Kennedy's death. Those charming pictures of the Kennedys are more familiar to me than my own family album, and the syrupy nostalgic narratives accompanying them make me retch and reach for the Pepto-Bismol.

As with everyone else who drew breath in the last half of the 20th century, "America's Royals" are part of my history and imprinted in my memory. As I've only recently seen the Republican light, "Kennedy" was a magical mantra to little old Democratic me. I was appalled and completely disheartened the day I learned of the maggoty underpinnings of glamorous, charismatic Camelot.

My blinders were finally ripped off with this 2003 PBS documentary on the Kennedy dynasty. It doesn't show all the gruesome details, but it does touch on many of the baser elements of this family and its less-than-perfect icons, starting with the Patriarch of Sleaze, Joe Kennedy, Sr. The only Kennedys who turn out to be true princesses are poor lobotomized Rosemary and a few of the long-suffering women.

As a realist, I certainly can't expect any human to be faultless. Politics being what it is, that arena is the last place I'd look for anyone even close to perfect. In fact, it's certain that the relentless scrutiny most candidates endure (notably excepting President O) is a major reason we have so few sterling individuals serving in political office -- who could possibly pass muster with every minor flaw exposed? Not I -- and I'm betting not you, either.

I'm also the last person to stand in judgment on anyone else's misadventures, foolishness and (dare I name it?) sin, but it's difficult to understand why this particular Senator from this extraordinary family is eulogized as an American saint, particularly in light of his documented history of whopping moral failures. I don't understand the apparent blind eye the East Coast Catholic bishops have turned on the Catholic Senator's positions on abortion and embryonic stem cell research, which are in direct opposition to those of the Catholic church, (although the Big Cheese Bishops have always genuflected to the Kennedy family).

Although it's obviously the media's mission to create and propogate the myth of celebrity, if you look beyond their drippy hype and scrutinize the facts behind Ted Kennedy's life, it's hard to understand why this man is being held up to us as an American legend and hero. He's had powerful influence in the Senate, to be sure, and he's been a strong and consistent voice for the positive values of the Democratic party -- but I surely wouldn't point to him and encourage my grandchildren to choose Teddy as a hero.
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Where Has All The Pleasure Gone (long time, passing...)

2009-08-23T17:55:00.000-07:00

Disclaimer: Before you get your Underoos in a twist about the following post, let me assure you that I KNOW all our current practices lead to S A F E T Y and H E A L T H Y L I V I N G. I know many of them have sprung from broken bones, cracked noggins, needless suffering and untimely death and blah, blah, blah.
I get it, okay? I'm just not convinced that life is worth living inside bubble wrap.

When I was a kid, polio was the scourge of every summer -- endless restrictions for kids and endless worry for our parents. Thank God, there's a vaccine for it now... and for almost every other common infectious disease. By the way, I contracted all of them but polio (including whooping cough), so I know the value of vaccines, honestly. Oh yeah, I also survived those illnesses.

No one chased us around with Neosporin spray and inhalers. We wore ugly, white Band-Aids with stinky adhesive as badges of honor celebrating our risky adventures, and we warded off infection with stinging unguents of one type or other. It's odd, but most of us still have all our limbs.

We got sunburned - on purpose, as it would "turn into a tan." We lay by the pool with baby oil plastered on our bodies, literally frying on the blistering hot pavement. Sun block defeated the whole purpose, which was to be the brownest kid on the first day of school. Oh yeah, we peed in that pool, too.

We stayed out after dark. Yes, we did. And our parents didn't always know where we were, which was the best part. We climbed trees without fear and played in slimy creeks teeming with creatures and bacteria and containing NO chlorine. Mosquitoes bit us and we bit peanuts - and still, we survived.

I remember actually riding in cars without being strangled by a seat belt. Sometimes we rode in the back of a pickup truck or lolled about freely in the rear of a station wagon. Yeah, so I fell out of a moving car when I was four and fractured my clavicle -- still, I survived.

Our death-defying lifestyle didn't stop there.

Many of our parents and most of their friends smoked -- inside, outside, in the car, in restaurants, in other public places -- everywhere, in fact, but actually in church, although the church porch was fair game.

We chewed gum WITH SUGAR. Sure, there were cavities and trips to the Torquemada Torturer dentist -- but most of us still have at least one or two teeth remaining.

We went grocery shopping with mom, sat in the basket (without a belt), rode the little bouncy horsey, and, oh my God, we didn't wipe down our hands, the cart and every object we touched with hand sterilizer, either.

We rode bikes, roller skated, scootered, played sandlot baseball WITHOUT HELMETS. That's right -- there was nothing between us and disaster but our hard kids' craniums. Whoa! Most of us survived, too.

When we were nine, we rode the (Reno) city bus to school. There wasn't a parent or chaperon in sight, save the bus driver who kept an eye on us. We loitered after school downtown, went to the movies by ourselves, stopped at the dime store or soda shop afterwards then rode the bus home -- and not one of us was ever abducted.

We grew up without knowing the existence of fat grams, cholesterol, omega-3 fatty acids or preservatives. Heck, we didn't even encounter a free radical until Berkeley in the 60's. Mom, the criminal, made food containing real butter and cream, and she dared to fry chicken that still wore its skin. No au jus for us -- we had real "country gravy" and even bacon (the pig kind, not the soy kind). It's hard to admit now, but we even ate white bread -- and we survived.

The other day in the grocery store, a bag of crunchy Cheetos held me up at gunpoint and demanded to go home with me. I didn't ask myself if I was hungry, or if I wanted the Cheetos. I considered its glycemic index, caloric and sodium content, fat content, including the nightmare possibility of trans and/or saturated fat, and the fact that it is probably made from devil-spawn white flour.

I've been so brainwashed by all the ten million ways to "live a healthy lifestyle" that I'd ram my car into a tree before stopping at a fast food restaurant. (Okay, I'll cop to one Carl's Jr. hamburger a year - seriously.) When reading a menu I look for the lowest fat, leanest, cleanest, purest and MOST BORING selections available. Price is no object, but good grief, don't eat anything that tastes good and might be the teeniest bit bad for you!

The part that annoys me the most about our pristine lifestyle is that much of it has been legislated by those determined to keep us SAFE. I know that many of these laws and guidelines have originated because of "premature death" or other tragedy. So I guess, by extension, that if we remove one more pitfall of daily living, we are that much more insulated and another day, week, month or year has been added to our lifetime. Hallelujah!

Except... if you believe, as I do, that our days are truly numbered by the Great Lottery In The Sky, the most that we're actually doing is enabling ourselves to feel a little better during the days we've been allotted. That's not a bad thing -- but doesn't it seem to you that we've reached the saturation point on staying SAFE?

Life isn't safe -- not one second of it is without risk -- and we only kid ourselves by thinking we truly control our personal environments.

Wouldn't it be hilarious if some Ph.D. candidate were this minute proving that the time we spend taking all these precautions is directly proportional to the time we supposedly add to our lives? Something akin to my theory on exercise -- you add 1/2 hour to your life by spending 1/2 hour exercising, so your net gain equals zero, except for the aches and pains you've acquired.

We've created such a "safe" world -- safe, and boring.

Oh yeah, I bought the Cheetos, and they were GOOD.
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How Succinct Can You Get?

2009-08-21T09:06:00.000-07:00

Borrowed from
"CharlieFoxtrotBlog.blogspot.com"
via AceOfSpadesHQ
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"Nyahh Nah, Nyahh Nah, Nyahhhhh Nah!"

2009-08-18T08:40:00.000-07:00

Although the three major news networks are still out there shilling for President O's "insurance reform" and the naysayers are invariably colored as angry right-wing nutbars, the current temperature of the public's support for incipient health care reform proposals is way below 98.6 degrees... slipping into hypothermia, as a matter of fact.

Of course, you wouldn't know that if all you watch is network news, including "in depth" reporting on Sunday morning or prime time news special features, and if all you read are mainstream media publications.

The bias doesn't always show itself through the vocabulary used in the networks' reporting, it isn't necessarily the video where righteous conservatives are shouting a little too much for comfort, it isn't always the skewed poll numbers. I find it most obvious in the 20-second wrap up at the end of a segment -- the closing sentence that is ALWAYS opinion, not a summary of fact, and ALWAYS accompanied by the knowing, condescending, snotty, sneary little twist of the mouth that says, "anyone who isn't on the liberal Democratic bandwagon (our side, the good guys' side, the smartypants' side) is just too stupid to live, doncha know."

If, however, you spend 30 minutes of your daily websurfing time reading a conservative blog or two, or if you select news reporting from reasonably objective sources, a clearer picture begins to emerge.

Independent bloggers are now providing the objectivity so pathetically and dangerously lacking in the mainstream media. Sure, a lot of it is opinion -- (although openly frank opinion, not reportage couched in opinion as on the Big Three and cable networks or in many liberal newspapers) -- but it's also actual, factual NEWS reporting that somehow never shows up in prime time or front page.

Doesn't it seem weirdly wrong that Drudge, Ace of Spades HQ, or Real Clear Politics are far more reliable and much timlier sources of FACTS than the alphabet soup networks?

Isn't it questionable to the point of outrageous that "one side fits all" is the theme of the mainstream media -- and where far too often the "other side" is never heard from, except to be ridiculed?

Last year, during the runup to the presidential campaign and throughout the campaign itself, I was still hanging around an authors' chat room -- where the acknowledged balance of political party affiliation was about 90% liberal. Woe betide the brave soul who dared to voice the above opinions -- the Puritans' pillory had nothing on the punishment visited upon the independent or conservative chatter. It was the liberal Democratic attitude in microcosm -- the intelligentsia who believe they are superior and independent thinkers, except that they march in lockstep along the party line -- and who could never admit there can be two valid opinions on political matters.

I came to the conclusion then that I've voiced often and strongly in this blog, my very own platform, that as long as the media reporting is aligned with one's own thinking, no bias is perceived and therefore is impossible to be acknowledged. It is a right-wing extremist lie and don't, for God's sake, confuse us with any facts to support the premise.

During the campaign the conservatives got the word out that the mainstream media was "in the tank for Obama" -- something that was patently obvious to those of us who simply wanted more information about this community organizer/senator-who-voted-present-and-did-nothing-more/completely inexperienced yet articulate leftie with questionable ties to homegrown terrorists/master-at-getting-elected-but-nothing-much-else/relative unknown and charming newcomer.

The mainstream media even picked up the mantra and made good fun of being "in the tank" -- and weren't they cute and good sports for poking fun at themselves -- wink, wink, of course we're not, we're oh so objective. Oh - and if you don't go along with our support of the Cheery O, you're a racist (even though this campaign has NOTHING TO DO WITH RACE.)

The result, however, isn't fun or cute. Because there was no -NO- serious investigative reporting, no critical eye focused on the man, the moneyed supporters, the ideologies, the pie-in-the-sky plans and schemes, Obama was portrayed as the Savior who would redeem us all with hopey and changey ideals. He was sold to the public -- who went along for the ride, wanted all that sky pie and didn't demand a closer look -- and here we are -- in the midst of a hugely expensive mess and certainly in line for a bigger, more expensive mess.

I can't help but think that those of us who resisted the media's package and had deep concerns during the campaign -- and since the election - have the right to be be standing now on the sidelines, waving at the Obama train and chanting, nyah nah, nyah nah, nyahhhh nah -- we knew better, we expected this, we predicted it. We just didn't have the votes to prevent it, and the responsibility and guilt for that lie at the media's fungused little toes.

My only hope is that it will be but a one-term disaster and that the far-left crazies will be stopped before they do too much damage. Depending on your news sources, the tide is turning in the public's love affair for President O and for the screwballs in Congress who support him.
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"End-Of-Life Issues" Aren't The Bogeyman

2009-08-12T20:26:00.000-07:00

As scary or creepy or welcome as we may find the prospect of our own death, or the deaths of our dearest family and friends, the one inescapable fact is -- we all die. Whether your life span is a brief day or as long as a bristlecone pine's, you have a one-way ticket to ride, and when your stop comes up, off you go.

I discussed some personal reflections on the subject HERE, but this post takes a different tack.

In my medical work, I see oncology and vascular surgery patients who, day by day, live with the imminence of their own personal death. To them it's not some day in the foggy future when a plane might go down, a gun is aimed the wrong way or a car accident sends them into the blue beyond.

"The" day is maybe months but more likely just weeks away -- sometimes as near as the next dawn.

Doctors who treat these patients through their last illness routinely have lengthy discussions with them and their families, and even close friends, -- not about taking a little pill that will end it all with an icy cold glass of water -- but about how those last few weeks should be medically managed from the patients' and concerned loved ones' perspectives.

If the illness has progressed despite available treatments, if there truly is no hope left to hang onto, if the "next step" would be so drastic as to involve extreme, unreasonable measures, then it's time to consider pain control, hospice care, family travel arrangements, palliative care that might involve minor surgical procedures for comfort only, not cure. These are the real "end-of-life issues." The practical matters that matter so much for those dying and those who will hold the last days in their memory.

Doctors who treat patients with diseases that have a natural history of incurability seem to me to be very sensitive in the way they handle these terrifying and final subjects with their patients. In my experience, they are willing to investigate the latest treatments, to enroll their patients in clinical trials, to use medications "off label", to refer the terminal patient to a tertiary care center or a well-known physician with an exceptional record of succss -- all in the hopes that there will be a prolongation of life.

Physicians are also realists. They know, and they are conscientious in advising the patient and family over and over, what that patient will inevitably be facing, and when.

In each case I've seen, (including even patients who are demented or otherwise have no real "life" such as you and I might recognize it), doctors are extremely cautious to not suggest cessation of treatment before all reasonable avenues have been exhausted.

The truly desperate will sometimes run to Europe or Mexico for a "miracle cure" but, again in my experience, most people who have reached the terminal stage of their disease know it - realize it - and very often have made peace with it. The "end-of-life issues" discussion is about practical care issues, not assisted or encouraged suicide.

In the 15 years that I've been working in this field, I've seen a few obvious mistakes, a dollop of temper and gallons of ego, but I've also seen unwavering sincere care and admirable ethics, particularly by doctors who handle terminal patients frequently by the nature of their specialty.

I saw something today, somewhere on the internet, that this is a discussion you should have 20 years before the time you need it. Maybe so, if you're talking about an advance directive, people making care decisions for you, or wills and trusts and other legal issues.

But the true end-of-life issues don't arise until truly the end of life. You've been battling a terminal condition for weeks, months, years, the treatments are no longer working, the disease is progressing -- how would YOU prefer your final days to be managed?

Wary people, who already fear government's involvement in health care, have latched onto this "end-of-life issues" phrase and have created a bogeyman for no reason. These discussions are held every day now and are done with kindness, concern and pragmatism.

It may be the one thing about Obamacare that doesn't scare me, and from my experience, it shouldn't scare you, either.

Speaking Up -- Moral Obligation and Duty of Citizenship

2009-08-11T10:15:00.000-07:00

THIS LINK is just too good not to be shared with the countless thousands of friends who follow this blog. (hahahahahahaha). Seriously -- it's worth your time, no matter which side of the political fence you find your little feet.

I only have a couple of paragraphs to add. (Well, of COURSE I have to add something.)

I can't think how many times we were encouraged in school to consider the "collective guilt" of both the German and Japanese citizenry who did NOT speak up and protest the evil their respective leaders were wreaking on the world.

During that time of my early education (late 1950's), excuses were not made for the facts that the specific evils were not known and that nationalism blinds nearly everyone to consider opposing views. The world at that time was far more black and white than it is now, and media coverage limited to print newspapers, limited radio and film coverage. Propoganda and wartime strategy included widespread news blackouts and/or fabrication and politicization in Axis countries. Each side was given the rationalization that underpins every war: They were bad and we were good - period.

We had no idea then how very real the threat was of losing one's own family or life for pointing fingers or acting in resistance. I'm not sure even now how many of us can truly imagine what that would be like. Survival is a human's number one priority -- and survival of one's family must be included in that grim list.

Over the span of the past 40+ years, I've seen protesters maligned for being unpatriotic, a threat to democracy, commies, pervs and nutcases. Remember the police actions at the Democratic National Convention in 1968? Or Kent State? Or the many, many times Vietnam war protesters were bashed over their heads and in the press? Think of the confrontations between right-to-life groups with pro-abortion (okay, okay, pro-choice) groups. Certainly not "peaceful" gatherings 100% of the time.

How is the concept of discouraging dissent reconciled with our usually-unspoken feelings that the German population "should have done something" to stop Hitler? Even though we now know it would have been impossible for them to effect any change in his "policies" or actions.

If we feel or know that proposed legislation is NOT in the best interests of this country -- for whatever personal or intellectual reason -- is it not our obligation to let our legislators know how we feel?

Is it not our moral obligation to protest the legalization of fetal murder if that's what our moral code dictates?

Ask yourself why we are now being told that to NOT support Obamacare is unpatriotic? That we who think the proposed legislation is not the answer are foolish, extremist meanies, manipulated by Republican party organizers, and we simply don't understand what our smarter, more righteous brethren want to decide for us?

Forget for a moment that the Republicans don't appear to be able to organize a water balloon fight -- crediting them for this widespread reaction is just too silly.

It's true that Obama won the election and that the Democrats hold the majority in Congress -- and that's a confluence of facts that is just tough for Republicans. It's also true that the American citizen has the opportunity, the right, and in my opinion, the obligation to protest what he/she doesn't agree with.

Why are we being ridiculed for not marching in lockstep when debate and opposition lie at the very core of the democratic process?

Yeah, maybe the town hall groups have been a little rowdy. Maybe the debate should be handled better -- actually, maybe there should BE a debate. Ask yourself why there hasn't yet been one in Congress.

Ask yourself if you're willing to let the Obamacare tanks roll right over you, no matter what you personally think of the proposed legislation.

Maybe you could also write a note to Pelosi and ask her which side then is waving the "Nazi" symbol, invisible or not.

Painkillers With An Ocean View

2009-08-10T15:45:00.000-07:00

I'm writing this (with primitive pen and paper) overlooking the incoming tide of the Mendocino coast. That background whisper isn't the electronically produced surf from my hypnosis tapes, but the honest-to-God rush of waves onto the beach in front of my unexpectedly plush hotel room in Gualala. (Thanks, Google!)

The five-hour drive from my home in the Sacramento Valley flatland was grueling and terrifying, but five minutes on this terrace are worth every long mile. (Well, except those 20 miles of corkscrew road behind the yuppies with the bikes on the back of their SUV that apparently can't go over 15 mph. Jesus!)

For most of my life, I lived ten miles from Monterey Bay, and except for a few friends left behind, the ocean is the one element I've missed with my move to Northern California. I don't miss the fog, the mold, the wind, the termites, the single month of anemic summer, the small-town attitude and big-time gang problems. But the surf, the sandbirds, gulls and the B52 pelican bombers... those I miss.

Unfortunately, when I made the spur-of-the-moment decision to spend the weekend on this part of the coast I'd never visited before, my Trick Knee decided all that rushing around to leave was a circus, and it performed its cutest trick to date.

I wish President O's largesse extended to "cash for clunker body parts" because I'd be first in line for a big, fat rebate for getting these old bones off the street. From my perspective, only my shins would survive the tow truck and crusher -- everything else would go.

By the time I arrived here, Trick Knee was frozen into accelerator position, as swollen as Obama's ego and damn near immobile.

There's been no walking on the beach for me, no art gallery browsing, no state park exploring, no wine tasting or restaurant grazing.

I figured out I could lean on a shopping cart and limp around the tiny local market, so the Dolly Parton of roasted chicken breasts has served for my lunch and dinner. Cereal and fruit are back on my menu (don't tell the South Beach doctor), and complimentary apple cider came with the room. (My room also came with a porn-sized spa in the bathroom, but Trick Knee only laughed. Sure I could have gotten in, but it would have taken a crane to get me out.)

In addition to Gideon in my nightstand drawer, there are two journals specific to my bungalow, filled with glowing memories of guests who have come to celebrate anniversarys, birthdays and other romantic milestones. I added Trick Knee to the roster.

Even though I brought my paints and the first chapter of a new book to edit, they stayed in the car. Gulls, pelicans and even a hawk have been performing a constant gratis air show about three feet off my balcony, and the sunset sky last night was as gussied up as a cheap hooker. Even the tide has arranged driftwood into perfect beachy feng shui.

It's not exactly the weekend I envisioned, but I'm left with my newly-filled prescription of pain pills, ice packs over and pillows under the Hindenburg knee joint, and the most gloriously peacful vacation I've ever known. So many vacations and weekend getaways are jam-packed with things to DO, instead of time to BE. Trick Knee may be, no IS, a pain, but its silver lining has been wonderful.

If you need a slice of peace to counteract a bellyful of stress, check out The Seacliff in Gualala. Two thumbs and a Trick Knee up!

I'm stopping now. The mint on my pillow beckons.

Something "Fishy" on Pennsylvania Avenue

2009-08-06T19:25:00.000-07:00

If your only news source is one of the Big Three networks, you likely haven't seen the flap that's sent the blogosphere reeling in the past few days. It hasn't been the lead story on any NBC, ABC or CBS channel that I've seen, but it's certainly all over the Internet.

HERE's the link to the original White House blog where we're asked to send "fishy" emails directly to the White House since they may be filled with "disinformation" about the health care proposal.

HERE's a link to Senator John Cornryn's response to the White House blog where he expresses his alarm at this frightening action. THIS link talks about the Democrats' panic at resistance.

And, just for fun, HERE's a link to a hilarious YouTube video poking a little fun at the whole thing.

Only... the background battle of these skirmishes isn't all that funny.

I can't figure out if President O is simply determined to set the all-time record for "most money spent or allocated and most debt incurred in the shortest time by any president EVER" -- or whether it's the force of his monumental ego that is driving him to imprint his Obamacare logo on our collective asses.

The simple of mind and heart would have us believe he wants health care reform for the good of all. The more cynical of us bleat a wet, sloppy Brooklyn raspberry and say it's just one more facet of his not-so-hidden, far- far-left agenda, aka socialism in the closet. Don't ask and definitely don't tell.

I just can't figure it out -- what is the rush to reform? And more to the point, why does this reform include suppression of dissent?

President O wanted the whole enchilada done by the August congressional recess. Now, the date is September. Where is the time for actual debate? Where is the time for the citizenry to provide input to their representatives? Where is the time for these elected controllers of our lives to even READ the legislation? Why are we in such a hurry to incur another trillion or so dollars of debt that this shaky economy can't possibly support?

Everyone involved in the push to ram this program down our throats, from White House staffers to elected Pelosipeople to mainstream media "reporters" to liberal bloggers, have choked down O's message and are sell, sell, selling it harder than any car salesman with a hot prospect. Oh wait -- I forgot -- the Gov IS that car salesman now, isn't it.

I think they could worry less about DISinformation if they got a little more real information -- and not just prepackaged commercial sound bites -- to the American people.

With its usual Chicago pol tactics, O's team has started its own smear campaign against plain-vanilla protesters who don't like what they've heard about Obamacare. These aren't organized folk -- these are worried folk who don't want to hold out their hands for a government handout, and who don't want their money and health care decisions put into a government bureaucrat's hands.

These are concerned people who want to be heard, not railroaded. Life today in the old US of A is tenuous enough without Congress rushing into long-term decisions that will affect real people's lives at the most stressful of times.

I'll admit I received some "fishy" emails from my conservative brethren. I didn't forward them along to other friends because I didn't believe what I read. There really are some whopping lies and distortions making the rounds along with all those "please forward or you'll die in five minutes" prayer emails. But neither did I forward them to Big Bro in the White House.

When hopey and changey was voted into office, was free speechy given the boot?

If you're not getting BOTH SIDES of the news these days -- and yes, Virginia, there really are two sides to each story, check out the "Great Political Links" I've listed on the right-hand side of this blog. Those particularly worth your time, in my bloggy opinion, are "Ace of Spades" "Powerline" and "Real Clear Politics." "Iowahawk" will make you laugh until you spew Pepsi out your nose.

Headline: Ayn Rand Spinning In Her Grave

2009-07-31T13:15:00.000-07:00

Although Ayn Rand's epic "Atlas Shrugged" is completely irreconcilable with my Catholic Christian values, there is still enough truth in her philosophy to send me running around these days like Chicken Little.

I'm sure Dear Dead Ayn herself would admit the sky is indeed falling. Her book, always frighteningly prophetic, has bridged the world between fiction and fact.

This article from the Washington Post today is the single most alarming news story I've read since the Obamarama Circus started its four-year run.

I know the question of caps on executive salaries has been simmering since the first bailout/bonus scandal. Common sense dictates that corporations poised on the brink of the abyss are foolish to perpetuate high-flying compensation packages. Those who have gone begging to the Fed for billions while still paying bonuses are even more foolish and deserve to be bitch slapped for their bad judgment.

Executive salaries and perks have been the guys in the black hats for a few years -- since compensation has become public knowledge and their companies' performances not so hot. Still... in a market-driven economy (which we had until we became a Federally-funded economy), the Big Cheeses make the big decisions, bear the big responsibilities and are ultimately accountable to their stockholders and governing boards. I've always felt that if performances (personal and bottom line) warrant the big bucks, let the Big Cheeses have them. No matter the reward, the job is tough.

I even felt this way when I was a Democrat, because I had enough experience running on the corporate hamster wheel to appreciate the expertise and chutzpah it takes to steer any large company.

Only in Barbie's Fairytopia would lower executive compensation mean anything to me personally -- it's not like they're going to be calculating the differential and sending us all checks, nor are they about to skew the pay scale by sharing it with their employees.

This legislation that the members of the House (those paragons of virtue, intelligence, character and effectiveness) passed will "empower financial regulators to limit pay that they deem inappropriate." That sentence doesn't say who these "financial regulators" will be, but the rest of the article implies they will be government employees. So... a civil servant sucking on the public teat will help determine compensation for an employee presumably high on the corporate food chain -- who steers the corporation that fuels the economy by providing jobs, goods, services AND TAXES --- taxes that pay that same civil servant's salary and the rest of the porkulus.

Atlas Shrugged is too damn long to analyze -- or even summarize -- in a blog posting, but, very briefly, in the story the world's economies -- all of 'em, most spectacularly, ours -- teeter on collapse under the burden of regulations, nationalization of industries, government involvement and the politics of manipulation.

Of course, just as in real life, the evil capitalists are blamed -- after all, they're RICH. The real and total collapse occurs when those evil ones (the actual producers of wealth -- genius industrialists) go "on strike" and refuse to participate in the smarmy world of the bottom-feeders who have been nominally in charge. Rand calls the centuries-long success of this warped system "the sanction of the victim" and the book ends when the victim withholds that sanction and, oh yes, saves the world.

Yeah, Atlas Shrugged is fiction -- but can you say "government bailouts" -- "socialized health care" (and it is - don't kid yourself) -- "cap & trade" -- and now "controls on compensation" ?

Here's an article posted yesterday on Obama's 32 czars who are "in control" in his administration without any kind of vetting, congressional confirmation or oversight.

And here's a link to Amazon.com for Atlas Shrugged. If you're a friend or a family member, buy the book and send me the bill. My treat -- I'm not kidding.

The Obamarama Circus was funny for awhile -- now it's just plain damn scary.

A Nightmare Waiting In The Wings

2009-07-28T09:10:00.000-07:00

My business is an ancillary service to the health care industry -- I'm not involved directly with patients, but I am privy to their complete and intimate medical symptoms, procedures, treatments and good/bad outcomes. Over the past 15 years I've seen a small number of documented physician errors and their consequence in medical malpractice lawsuits. I've also seen a whopping change in the philosophy and standards of patient care

Unless you have a history of the same chronic condition for which you've been treated over many years, your chance of undergoing an invasive procedure or very expensive scan of one kind or another is about ten thousand times greater today than it was even ten years ago. Even when a physician relies on his/her education, experience and common sense (for those few who use it), that provider will very often require that you get a scan "just to be sure" -- just to validate their conclusion -- and to cover their ass for malpractice exposure.

Have a belly ache? Get a CT scan. Headache? Hop up on that scanning table and let's "see" what's going on. A little red patch on your arm? Let's do a biopsy! PET scans, MRI scans, CT-guided biopsies and dozens of "oscopies" of one kind or another are as common today as an aspirin and thermometer were in the good old days. Of course these are all terrific diagnostic tools and undoubtedly save lives a thousand times over -- no argument there. But also of course, they are not without serious risks, their results are not foolproof, the tests themselves can be faulty and/or results misinterpreted, and oh, by the way, they are ALL horrifically expensive.... for your insurance company, for you as the insured, and for the taxpayers providing money for assistance programs.

The availability of all these diagnostics has changed the face of medicine and changed the method by which physicians practice their art. Undoubtedly the objective data these tests provide contribute to the quality health care that we receive. Also undoubtedly they are an enormous factor in the cost of that health care.

It's rare when a patient refuses or delays whatever test or procedure a doc orders. Even patients who have researched their own symptoms and are medically sophisticated rarely controvert the physician's request -- after all, they are paying for the doc's expertise and judgment, and after all, there might be "something dreadfully wrong" that can be fixed with drug therapy or surgery. It's been my experience that the only patients who don't comply with the ordered test or procedure are the terminally chicken or the uninsured. It always catches my attention when a patient puts a foot down, draws on common sense and says, "it was only a stomach ache, it went away after two days (while it took two weeks to get in for an appointment), and I feel fine now. Let's skip the scan." The doc, aghast, always documents that the patient refused valuable medical advice, assuring that the patient's eventual demise from that stomach ache will not end in a malpractice action.

I personally find it ludicrous that a $1500 scan will be ordered for a hangnail -- and I find it appalling and completely unethical that the number of scans ordered increases dramatically and exponentially when the doc's office has installed their own scanner. Ooops!

In all the recent blather about Obamacare and the astronomical costs of health care, I've yet to see this scenario mentioned, except in the even-more-frightening situation that a legislator or desk bound clerk may be making those particular medical decisions for us.

If you are at all concerned about the impending health care revolution we're facing, read THIS short and pithy article from Real Clear Politics. It will scare your pants off -- even if you weren't scheduled for that particular 'oscopy.

Boggling The Mind, #457

2009-07-21T07:37:00.000-07:00

Even though it looks like Obama's massive health care reform ship is heading toward rocky waters and may, (please, God, please) capsize and sink, there's always the chance that it, or some form of it, will become part of our new reality.

I doubt there is any living, breathing American, guest resident or illegal resident, who doesn't agree that some sort of reform is necessary to provide at least minimum coverage for the uninsured. True, most can be served through emergency room facilities, but that isn't the real answer for chronic medical problems. I have my own personal horror story of dealing with the costs of six months in a transplant facility WITH great union insurance -- and I see through my work what the lack of good coverage can mean. Medical costs account for the majority of family bankruptcies -- due to many reasons, none of which I'm going to bore you with. They've been discussed aplenty recently.

The Clinton administration's attempt at reforming health care took a couple of years to live, languish and die -- from his announced intention in 1992 until the burial amid enormous controversy in 1994. Obama's strategy to announce, campaign and ram it down our collective throats has taken a bare six months -- and the conclusion is still unknown.

In an excerpt from one of his many speeches last week, Pres O said, "we will have health care reform -- make no mistake about it." That doesn't sound very friendly or collaborative to me. It sounds, well, dictatorial. His determination in this goal, as in every other problem that's crossed his desk, is backed by political intimidation, frank threats and Chicago-style arm twisting.

Let's face it, hopey and changey's record of success thus far is pretty damn miserable -- and his failed or failing pet projects have racked up unimaginable debt while being riddled with waste, fraud, and a dearth of oversight.

I came across an enlightening/appalling column (linked below) from Michelle Malkin's VERY entertaining and informative website. It illustrates the heart of what we're facing with O's administration and plans. His proposal passed frightening five months ago and is heading deep into disgust, taking our choices and our money with it.

If you do nothing else today, please, please read her column. In fact, bookmark Michelle's blog and check in with it frequently. Or I'll get my friends in Chicago to "convince" you.

INSIDE THE MONSTROUS OBAMACARE BUREAUCRACY. click and read. Now.

Isn't It Refreshing?

2009-07-12T11:49:00.000-07:00

I love that the collective mainstream media has taken off at least one pair of rose-colored glasses with regard to President Obama. While they haven't yet choked on any humble pie, and probably never will because that would mean they'd have to admit to their bias and cheerleading of the past couple of years, they can no longer ignore the poll numbers that show Obama at less than deity status.

Here's what The Huffington Post had to say on July 9th:

President Barack Obama's approval rating in Ohio has fallen rapidly in the past months.

Quinnipiac University surveyed 1,259 voters in Ohio from June 26 to July 7. The poll found that 49% of voters disapprove of the job Obama is doing, while 44% approve.

That is 13 points down from May, when a separate Quinnipiac poll found a 62% approval rating and a 31% disapproval rating.

The most recent Quinnipiac poll also surveyed voters on Obama's handling of the economy, finding 48% disapproval and 46% approval. In May, Obama received a 57% approval rating on the economy.

Peter A. Brown, assistant director of the Quinnipiac University Polling Institute, attributed the new poll numbers to the economic climate.

"The economy in Ohio is as bad as anywhere in America," said Brown. "These numbers indicate that for the first time voters have decided that President Barack Obama bears some responsibility for their problems."

Until now, he said, voters largely been "blaming former President George W. Bush." But now, voters "might be taking out their frustration on President Obama, possibly deciding that the change he promised has not come as quickly as they expected."

Gosh, the President the media elected isn't doing so well. What a surprise. I'm flabbergasted to think that the community organizer with 30 seconds' experience in the Senate can't solve America's and the world's problems in the first six months.

I can understand die-hard liberals voting for any Democrat nominated. I can understand the uneducated and unwashed voting for a rock star celebrity with a nice turn of words and a great smile. But what the hell was everyone else thinking?

Obviously, they weren't thinking.

I lay the responsibility and blame for his election squarely at the media's duck feet. They laughed off or ignored every serious red flag that anyone not pro-Obama raised. Everyone lazy or gullible enough to take the mainstream news anchors and analysts at face value, without checking F-A-C-T-S for themselves, or at least reading opposition challenges, voted as the sheep they are -- and we're now living with the result.

I know, I know, it's too late -- President he is and President he will remain, at least for his first term. One can only speculate the damage he will do IN that first term, but I fear the speculation may not be as bad as the eventual reality.

As a liberal arts major in college I wasn't exposed to any high-level economics classes -- not that I could have understood them had I taken them. Whatever minor gifts I have lie in language, and my mantra from childhood has been, "die, numbers, die!" Still, I was an IT executive for years with budgetary responsibilities (how the gods laughed) and I have run a home business and household on my own for 15 years, so I have at least an inkling of the practical side of money matters.

It just seems to me fiscally irresponsible (translation: stupid) to propose a multi-trillion-dollar revision of our health care system while the country is suffering the deepest recession in 70 years. What kind of fiscally irresponsible (stupid) family would book a vacation cruise around the world when the house, the car, the dog and one kid had been repoed? What kind of -- you know, stupid -- corporation would buy all new computers, company jets, facilities, staplers and paperclips if the bottom line on the balance sheet were too red to be read?

It really makes me nuts to see Obama and his thugish administration tap, tap, tapping like manic Irish dancers trying to spend money THEY DON'T HAVE. Who does that? Who proposes increased taxes on small business -- which provides the majority of jobs in a country at 10% unemployment? Someone without any common sense and any sensibility for people who struggle every day with the reality HE isn't living.

Even if you've managed to keep your customers, if you're a small business, or keep your job, if you're employed, your investments in your home and retirement have lost at least half their value over the past few years, and your personal financial future doesn't look nearly as bright as it did when you made all those cozy retirement plans.

All Obama's fault? Of course not. But having been elected based on hopey and changey, he's not coming through very well, is he? Hope may have won, but hope is going to cost a lot of bucks that we don't have, particularly when hope's health care program is so far out of the realm of practicality.

We may just have to bet on the outside chance that Congress wises up and just says NO. (pardon my snort laugh.)

So far I haven't seen the media sharks doing more than nosing the chum(p) in the water. I'm sure it's way too much to ask that they view empty words, ridiculously expensive proposals and general ineptitude with the jaundiced eye Sarah Palin got at every turn.

Silly me -- an articulate President so completely over his head in wide-eyed leftie idealism doesn't begin to compare with the gravity of a candidate's wardrobe.

One Step Over The Line, Sweet Jesus!

2009-07-05T09:30:00.000-07:00

The corporate entity of NBC will never know it, but they suffered the ultimate insult a week ago when I deleted Nightly News from my DVR's list to "record all episodes." If I thought anyone would read it, or once having read it, care, I'd send a snotty slap-in-the-face email announcing that I turned them off in a huff.

The straw sending the camel for an MRI? Michael Jackson's death as the lead story multiple nights in a row while barely reporting the Iranian, Korean and Afghanistan crises. Jackson, twenty minutes, national and world news, five. Not a great score in my book for the millions whose only source of "news" is NBC.

The producers should at least fake one last impulse of honesty and rename the show, "Nightly Entertainment News." Heck, we had barely recovered from Farrah's maudlin coverage and hadn't yet had time to mourn for Billie Mays' death when we were hit with the "tragedy" of yet another probable drug-related demise of a freakoid celebrity.

Oh the pain of it all.

Jackson as great entertainer? Undoubtedly.
Jackson exerting massive impact on America's pop culture? Regrettably, yes.
Talented person with demented childhood and questionable lifestyle? Oh yeah.
Meaningful contribution to American life? Yes, according to those incoherent interviews with the mush-mouthed grieving fans... but certainly not in any serious way for the rest of us.

NBC wasn't the only network to give MJ's death priority by any means. Daytime, afternoon, evening "specials" beat it, beat it, beat it to (pardon me) death, while leaving the real issues of the day unreported -- or barely mentioned.

I've written about the mystique of celebrity many times in this blog and I've certainly bashed the mainstream media about its relentless coverage of celebrities' pathetic antics and morally-bereft lives. I'm sure if news directors were confronted with an angry mob demanding REAL NEWS, they'd haul out the old saw they give as their eternal excuse...the public demands such coverage. (See HERE for a longer rant on this tactic.)

Speaking as one small slice of American pie, I demand objective, clear reporting on important issues that will affect my life and the lives and future of my family -- maybe coverage of our slippage into Big Gov controlling EVERYTHING as we descend into true socialism? Maybe exposure of the thug-like machinations of our new Chicago/Washington administration? Maybe the trillions of present and long-term (eternal) debt we're accruing in the name of hopey and changey? Maybe the lack of any non-Rush opposition voices? We don't hear those voices because the media doesn't do their job -- we may get a 20-second sound bite from one conservative or another, but those comments are always bracketed by the reporter's snide setup and pithy, pro-Obama close. Don't believe me? Pay attention with critical eye and ear the next time.

Just as a quick example, how much detailed analysis have you seen or read about the massive health care overhaul? A word here and there from predictable sources... but nothing to equal the impact this plan will have on all our lives. (Well, all our lives unless you're a member of Congress, which will be excluded.) Where is the debate? Where are the fire-eating journalists eager to bring both sides of an issue to our attention? Or am I being incredibly naive -- am I expecting Spencer Tracy and getting Matt Lauer?

When FDR swept into office during the Great Depression and began his alphabet soup of agencies he hoped would effect real and needed change, there was PLENTY of opposition to his actions -- and you bet your sweet ass it was reported. His bid for the Presidency was vigorously opposed during his first campaign and his administration closely scrutinized from the start -- with his many critics' voluble comments both printed and broadcast. After his attempt to stack the Supreme Court failed, he was pilloried in the press. Ah, the good old days when reporters at least pretended to objectivity and pretended to work.

Just imagine that scenario today going unmentioned, unreported, unnoticed by the media who are in the tank for, in bed with, and up the O'Butt of O'Bama.

As an aside and as confession, I finally got off the ideological fence and registered Republican last week. My dear Democratic father is no doubt spinning in his grave -- but he isn't here to watch this sickening debacle. Sorry, Daddy.

The Land Of Ozzzzzzzzzzz

2009-04-01T20:45:00.000-07:00

I sleep so much better at night now, knowing that the nation's Chief Executive Officer, with all his many years of executive experience, responsibility and business acumen, is at the helm of our ship of state.

What? He has no business experience? He has no impressive record of achievement and success? He's only had a couple of jobs besides running for office? How could that be?

Well, I sleep better at night knowing that General Motors and Chrysler, two of three companies forming the bedrock of our auto industry, are once again viable since their billion dollar loans. Whew! I'm so glad they escaped bankruptcy, which, we were assured in January, would send Chicken Little into the streets and completely devastate our weakened economy.

What? GM is now facing almost-certain bankruptcy after all? Wasn't keeping it OUT of bankruptcy the rationalization for the original government loans? Now it's the answer? Are you telling me that a constipated, bloated, overfed, overgrown organization like GM couldn't come up with a completely new, innovative and profitable business model in two months? The same company who hasn't come up with anything really new in 20 years? (I've seen a corporation 10,000 times smaller than GM not be able to come up with new letterhead in two months.)

Well, surely I'll sleep better knowing that our weary troops are coming home from Iraq. Thank God we won't be putting lives at risk and spending all those billions every month fighting in that troubled region.

What? We're escalating the war in Afghanistan and Pakistan? Really? After all that campaign rhetoric? Good grief! And we want to be friends with Iran? How does Israel feel about that?

At least I'll be sleeping better knowing that in this economic climate no reasonable, right-thinking, brilliant economics team would propose massive new government programs to solve every problem that exists in our society. Of course we're going to try to get back on our financial feet before we institute new health care reforms, education programs, paid volunteer programs and pay for all those little piggy earmarks. After all, we need a healthy economy with stable revenues before we wallow in all that pork, don't we? At least the "average American family" won't be facing new taxes. Thank goodness.

You're kidding. All that stuff is actually in the proposed budget -- while the whole world economy flounders like, well, a beached flounder? But only those who make $250,000 and up will be hit with a tax increase? Wait -- doesn't that mean most small business owners, who create 70% of new jobs? By all means, tax the investors, tax the job providers, tax the backbone of the economy.

I'll have to remember to set my alarm as I'll be sleeping so soundly knowing that members of Congress, our elected representatives who speak for us and act for us, will be on the job in Washington. They are all so trustworthy, intelligent, honest, ethical souls, aren't they? Look at how they all reacted to the AIG bonuses. They're my kind of folk.

No! You don't mean they actually took PAC money from the very corporations they loaned taxpayer money to then lambasted for their actions? Those nasty big businesses who honored their employment contracts and paid bonuses? Well, I guess a member of Congress has to be re-elected. We can't fault them. We don't seem to ever get rid of them, either.

Come to think of it, I haven't slept a wink since Election Day, 2008. I wonder why?

Re-Blogging Potpourri

2009-03-23T15:40:00.000-07:00

"Gee, Cyn, what have you been doing in the six months since you last posted?"

Well, let's see. I've written three full-length children's books from plots and characters suggested by my grandkids, and there's a fourth in the first trimester of gestation.

I've read about ninety million words in Scots dialect in the "Outlander" series, by Diana Gabaldon. Of the five books, the first two are excellent. (It must say something when the audio book version is less than one-fifth the original.)

I've watched winter winds and rain come and go and seen beautiful bloomy trees sport new leaves, and for the first time in my life I welcomed Daylight Savings Time. There. I said it. I know it blatantly steals an hour from morning folk to hand Robin Hood-like to night people, but this year I'm glad.

I've spent what's left of my retirement fund feeding finches over the winter, and I'm positive my house is now listed on birds' GPS services and birdgoogle as the best restaurant in town. The downside, as always, is the ubiquitous presence of doves and neighborhood cats. Not a good combination, as my flowerpots are filled with ripped out feathers. Lord, I hate cats!

The scariest thing that's happened to me was the day I discovered that Nancy Pelosi stands next in line to Biden in Presidential succession. Holy Crap.

Oh yeah -- I watched the media elect their very own U.S. President, and isn't it fun now to see the excuses they're making for the giant vacuum of leadership in the Oval? No? We're not having any fun now? Have Hopey and Changey been given the gong? Or did they just not pay their taxes?

I've also observed the lack of perspective as bloggers, commentators and those unbiased news dudes drone on and on about the disastrous "financial crisis." Why isn't anyone talking about the moral crisis that was its foundation?

If you watched MSNBC's "House of Cards" documentary that explained the building blocks of this mess, did you notice the players admitting participation but denying all culpability? "Yeah, I sold those derivative products based on subprime garbage loans that wiped out whole municipalities' pension funds, but heck no, I didn't feel guilty." I guess it's impossible to acknowledge guilt in a culture where "left" is the opposite of "right" and "wrong" only applies to a light bulb that doesn't last 350 years.

I consciously stopped writing this blog when everyone who could speak or type began discussing the rapture to come when He Who Would Walk On The Potomac took office. I stopped writing when it became ludicrously obvious that none of Obama's policies, positions or playmates would be given the scrutiny an American Idol contestant would endure, let alone a presidential candidate. "Governor Palin, can you detail the Bush Doctrine?" "Senator Obama, what was served at the banquet?"

I stopped writing when the collective media decided the race without doing its job. You don't believe me? Check out this site and spend $20 for a dose of reality.

While I know there's a need for a nation to be inspired, and a need for change from failed policies and fumbling, something in the back of my mind kept insisting there was also a need for experience, for qualifications, for something other than the ability to be elected -- and to give a rousing speech.

I'm afraid the penchant of American culture to choose celebrity over relevance and flash over substance, and to swallow whatever swill the media serves, will have consequences this time around. I hope I'll be proven wrong.

The Wrong Turn To A Dead End

2008-09-29T10:50:00.000-07:00

Unlike our intrepid leaders in Washington, I'm not even going to pretend to understand the current financial crisis and its kazillion-dollar Band-Aid. Does anyone really get it? Doesn't sound like it to me... although soon a lot of dollar bills will be picked from taxpayers' pockets to cushion another economic blow.

Although every "Main Streeter" I've seen interviewed has an opinion, and although every politician who sucks on the public teat acts as though they get it -- who can really comprehend the depth of this debacle? Analyses of the problem and solution change daily from every talking head "expert."

To my mind, at some point in the late 1950's or early 1960's, Madison Avenue sharpies packaged greed in a bottle, slapped a "Drink Me" sticker on it, and the American culture slid down the rabbit hole of consumerism. Who knew the bottle would have a trillion-dollar price tag 45 years later?

Maybe it's my gnawing secret desire to be walled up like a Carthusian monk in Chartreuse with a bed, a book and a robe -- but so much of our gimme, gimme, gimme culture makes me...... puke.

I haven't just read about the 50's and pre-hippie 60's in some cultural anthropology class... I lived those years, and damned if I don't think we've been duped and screwed by the Age of Aquarius.

Yeah, yeah, I know -- you can't go back -- except that, in making personal decisions regarding a lifestyle, you CAN make changes. I've done it... others have done it... in reaction to the convulsive compulsion to purchase, purchase, purchase until... well, you know the end of that sentence.

Back in the good old days you saved real money to buy stuff you really needed. You stuck the money in a sock, or a savings account at a bank, a Christmas Club account, or even a lay-away plan, with a cute little payment card that showed a declining balance until the objet du desir was yours, all yours. You actually owned your possessions. Because you slaved and saved until you made a substantial down payment and earned manageable mortgage payments, you owned a good chunk of your home, too.

You didn't move up to a trendy, vastly more expensive home every three years. You didn't replace hard goods -- or even many soft goods -- until they actually wore out... and, products didn't carry a preplanned time of demise...they were made to last.

You drove your car until it circled up and died, and cars were purchased for, gulp, cash -- but then, they didn't cost as much as your parents' home, either.

Except for the uber rich we only read about in Life Magazine, weddings didn't cost upwards of $50,000. Birthday parties for kids meant Kool-Aid, a nut cup, a homemade cake and pinning the tail on the donkey. Reindeer still parked on our roofs, of course, but there was still room to walk in the living room after Santa flew back up the chimney.

Summer vacations meant a road trip, a week or two at the beach or camping, not round-the-world cruises. A movie with popcorn cost maybe a buck, with enough change for a Coke on the bus ride home. Remember the bus?

The doctor (the one who came to your house) had to be paid real money from dad's checking account...but the doc also didn't order a $1500 CT scan when Pop was a little constipated... prunes, Mr. Jones, prunes.

Music and art were expected at school, public or private, because enough money was allocated for those programs. Public libraries were open every day and most evenings, and weren't first on the municipal budget chopping block.

In unseen but very real costs to society, kids behaved or faced consequences, and the drug problem meant the school nurse was out of aspirin. Sex ed was an embarrassing conversation with mom or dad, or a titillating one with your best friend. There were abortions, to be sure, but surely not the million-plus done every year in the U.S.

Our parents had lived through the Great Depression and learned the hard lesson of living to needs, not wants. Even though they reached upper middle class status, we still had one pair of school shoes, one pair of play shoes, and one pair to wear for "good." (Poor Mom only had two pair, since she didn't go to school.)

Oh yeah... Mom. Mom stayed home and we all lived on one income. If not queen of the women's lib movement, I'm at least a princess -- but there's a lot to be said for a two parent household where one stays home to raise the family. (Discussed further here.)

Nostalgia, while sweet, is also pointless. Until someone proves the M Theory and we can ooze between different universes, we can't ever go back in time, and I'm sure most wouldn't want to. I swear on my Mickey Mouse watch, however, that the only benefits I'd personally retain from today's world would be the polio vaccine and Google.

We've been assured by gurus in Wall Street and Washington that we don't face another Great Depression -- or even a "deep recession." My retirement accounts are bleeding, as most others' are, so I hope they're right. If those wizards are wrong, we're in for a tornado more disruptive than Dorothy's... but maybe scaling back greed and acquisitiveness would be our Oz.
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It's The Diet War, And I'm The General

2008-09-11T10:13:00.000-07:00

I recently had to write a brief autobiography (for a class I'm taking) which was to include my "hobbies and interests." Hmmm.

There's always a silent war going on in my storage areas as yesterday's hobbies battle for space. The watercolor stuff seems to be winning by sheer mass since film cameras and lenses gave way to tiny digitals. Those quilting and knitting needles can be vicious, though, and the jewelry tools fight dirty. My autobiography was stuck on a blank screen. Which hobby to choose?

Well, hell. Of course.

Move over, Richard Simmons, Atkins and South Beach, I am the world's greatest diet expert. Seriously. I claim this title since I've been on a diet of one kind or another since day two of my life, and certainly every Monday and every January 1.

There have been years I've looked good (with pictures to prove it) and years you'd think I'd swallowed Rosanne. My closets aren't organized by season or color, but by size, and I swear loudly at the smallest sizes every time I open the door. I know, that's unfair. It's not their fault I'm half potato-dumpling Lithuanian and half American pie. Still, damn those jeans and damn these genes!

Middle-age doesn't mean the years bracketed by youth and retirement -- it refers to the age when your body envies the Earth's equator so much it expands your middle to match.

Before my estrogen factory, the slut, ran off with my metabolism to South America, it was a piece of cake (ha) to drop 20 pounds. Just a little effort and a switch to all veggies and there I was, shopping in the petite department again.

Well, those were the good old days! I've apparently starved my poor self so rigidly and so often that it's convinced I am in the midst of a biblical famine, and by God (ha), it's not giving up one ounce, no matter what I do.

I'm the poster child for good eating, by the way. Veggies are at the bottom of my pyramid and top of my list, and my grocery cart and pantry would pass Oprah's inspection. I allow myself one fast food hamburger A YEAR. I eat pizza ONLY on Halloween night. Cake and ice cream -- ONLY at family birthday parties. Everything I buy is fat-free or "light", and I can tell you correct portion size and calorie content of every food.

(I'll hedge on that fat-free stuff. In France, I ate real butter, only because I didn't know the French phrasing for the "solid yellow vegetable oil that's too hard to spread and tastes like shit." No wonder I love France. )

I've been slimmed by Slim-Fast, watched by Weight Watchers, and become lean with Lean Cuisine. Hoodia worked for a week, Dexatrim trimmed my butt but did weird things to my eyes, and Jenny and I haven't spoken in years. When it comes to diet programs, I own the copyright on "Been There, Done That."

Yes, Yes, I exercise. I've sweated to the oldies with Richard Simmons, although my mom taught me it's not polite to sweat. I also spiraled into a three-week depression when I realized I'm just too uncoordinated (those Lithuanian genes again) to follow those maniacs on aerobics videos. Besides, those women are aliens from another planet, I know they are. NO HUMAN looks and moves like that.

Hypnosis works, if you can find a hypnotherapist whose voice doesn't give you the creepy crawlies. I like this program and this program. Serious weight loss starts as a mind game, and hypnosis can give you the edge.

Anyway, here are my axioms after a lifetime in the fat bank, making deposits and withdrawals:

You have to stay on a diet longer than 2 days in a row.
Food counts, even if no one is watching you eat it.
Serving size matters. A big bag of potato chips is not one serving.
Neither is a pint of ice cream.
Or half a pie or cake. (One-ninth, 2.3 oz, is a serving size of cake. Isn't that hilarious? Who are they kidding? "Please, cut just one-ninth for me." hahahaha)
A plateful of pasta will FEED A FAMILY. Your portion is 1 cup, which isn't worth even cooking, let alone eating.
After a few years, you will get used to the taste of diet soda and artificial sweetner.
Stay home, alone, on Thanksgiving with a Lean Cuisine turkey dinner. It's the only way.
Yes, you can go to fast food places. You can have coffee at McDonald's, a salad at most places, fat free dressing, please, but the Colonel is dead to you.
I'm asking my legislator to have those "pizzas" by Lean Cuisine outlawed as false advertising and fraudulent food. They aren't pizza. I don't know what they are, but they aren't pizza.
Just watching exercise videos doesn't work. You have to actually get OFF your ass and DO the moves.
Tai Chi will wreak your knees. Those old Asians who demonstrate it have artificial joints. Trust me.
You also have to listen to the hypnosis tapes -- just reading about them and organizing them in the drawer next to your bed won't float you away in a weight-loss trance.
After a certain age, your choice becomes a thin, healthier body or an accordion-pleated face. You choose.

I'm stopping now. I'm hungry. I haven't had my ~~congealed mass of gray slop~~ fresh-cooked oatmeal (no butter, no raisins, no brown sugar, no salt, no sugar, no milk) and I just can't wait any longer. YUM.
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I Finally Get It

2008-09-07T19:50:00.000-07:00

Because I think this election is SO important, and because I am still on the voting fence, I gagged and tied myself up and forced me to watch most of both conventions.... with a little help from my DVR.

I've written about it so much it's completely redundant to say again, but here it is: I've never voted Republican before and many, although not all, of the planks of the Democratic platform resonate with my own values and those of my family background...

...BUT...

I've also been exposed to first-hand (not massaged by the mainstream media) Republican philosophy for the last few years. This exposure has been through lively discussion with a conservative friend whose intelligence and judgment I profoundly respect, and also by following a few well-researched, respectable and well-written conservative columns and blogs.

It's a fact, folks... all Republicans are not nutjobs, and valid, reasonable conservative viewpoints DO exist. There really are two sides to every issue, and both sides have merit if one is not deeply entrenched in partisan thinking.

I think I'm as objective about the two parties and their issues as anyone can be in this very partisan year. I'm also still very much in the "undecided" column about my November vote.

After all the balloons, confetti, placards, posters, banners, bullshit and empty words have been swept out of Denver & St. Paul, I'm left with a few confessions, impressions and conclusions.

This last Thursday night, at the close of Senator McCain's acceptance speech, was the first time in my memory that I have felt at all patriotic. (I've written about this weird deficit in my character previously, HERE.) I may have felt a twinge of something at JFK's funeral, another twinge at the first moon landing, spasms at the Challenger and WTC disasters... but had I owned a flag, I would have been waving it Thursday night.

With my girlie, estrogen-driven DNA, I have found every war (after WWII) incomprehensible and intrinsically barbaric and primitive, and so I've avoided almost all exposure to the many military actions of my lifetime. I despise the very nature of war and abhor everything connected to it. It therefore has always been a puzzle to me why the status of "military hero" would almost automatically mark a presidential candidate as "desirable"... but Thursday night, I finally got it.

It's not that every "decorated war hero" necessarily has the qualities -- whatever they may be -- to become an effective and powerful President. The heroic acts themselves are not the qualifying factors -- but the character formed and strengthened by the adversity, suffering, sacrifice and dedication to the ideal and reality of serving one's country absolutely is.

It's a truth of life that struggle makes us strong. The happy plateaus of our life are surely more pleasant and do give us breathing space to enjoy a little peace of mind and heart; but, it's from the depths of calamity and tragedy that we grow, that our character develops, that we emerge as a more mature, more complete person. In my opinion, the more we overcome, the stronger we become -- and the converse is true, too, (which worries me about the many ways our culture chooses to be "comfortable" rather than accept hard choices and hard consequences -- but that's another blog.)

Does my Oprah-esque epiphany, my ah ha! moment, mean that I'm voting for McCain and company now? Nope, not necessarily -- but it did give me an insight, at gut level, into the kind of character he possesses and what went into the formation of that character. The contrast with his opponent is obvious and almost painful.

I'm still stuck with the depressing opinion that we have three lightweight candidates and one man who may be too old to be effective. The parties' proposed solutions to our national concerns and issues seem to be more clearly defined this election, though, which may weigh heavier in my own decision than in previous years. Wouldn't it be peachy if the candidates could bring themselves to just tell us the plain, simple, unpackaged truth.... oops, sorry, I slipped into fantasy there for a moment.

Oh, before I leave -- I've been sent three different "letters" about Sarah Palin from three different sources, plus I've seen a couple on a blog or two. In case you're sent one of those from the vast "forward email hell" -- check out this link before you draw any conclusions about their validity: Letters from Alaska.
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Out Of The Closet

2008-09-02T14:10:00.000-07:00

It's amazing what we learn about ourselves, even in late middle age.

For a lifetime, my family and friends have been on the receiving end of my derision, mocking laughter, pointy fingers and blatant abuse about their sentimental attachment to "stuff." Why keep that crap? I sneered with superiority. What possible use is an old address book 40 years later, when everyone in it is dead, current address unknown? Get rid of it! I snarled, rolling my eyes in distaste at the detritus of a lifetime, carefully packed away.

All that smug sarcasm bit me on the ass Labor Day weekend -- big ouch!

I've said before in this blog that the title of Ryokan's Zen poetry, "One Bowl, One Robe" is my ideal for the perfect way to live: simple, sparse, clean, no shopping, no dusting.

Stuff and clutter to me are visual noise: chatter that just won't stop, racket that assails me every time I look at it, a major source of stress and unrest -- like toddlers in the back seat on a road trip or the barking of the rat-bastard terriers next door. It jars me, it rattles my cage, it unsettles my peace, it pisses me off. I honestly do keep household clutter at a minimum -- but my closets, garage and drawers, ahhh... they tell a different and very sleazy story.

Imagine my distress this past Saturday when I realized with blinding humiliation that EVERY drawer, EVERY closet, EVERY space beneath the beds, EVERY cupboard and my ENTIRE garage is crammed with STUFF.

Sure, some of it is good stuff. Some is stuff every household needs -- to a point. A bit of it is valuable (unused, but valuable), some of it is required by the IRS. Most of it, however, is just plain crap and any right-thinking person would have thrown it away decades ago.

When I moved to this house on Labor Day, 2000, I took with me everything from my former home. I didn't at that time sort through and discard anything... if it existed in that time/space continuum, it got packed and still exists in this dimension. Here are some things I found this weekend as I began the process of restoring order and sanity to my life:

My fourth grade ruler. I know it's my fourth grade ruler because it has my maiden name and "4th grade" chewed into it by my very sharp teeth.
A bottle of water (capped like a beer bottle) from 1989, post the Loma Prieta earthquake. Maybe there's a market on ebay as a collectible, but I doubt it.
A mummified mouse preserved in a box circa the move in 2000. R.I.P.
Every greeting card, invitation and thank you note I've ever received from any family member. Seriously. (It's exactly this collection that I know will warm my hypocritical place in hell, since I've been so ruthless about ridiculing others for keeping this specific memorabilia.)
A tiny, discreet notebook filled with names of old boyfriends, complete with a "starring" system for their... ummm...let's just say, likelihood for another date.
37 sun visors that don't fit and give me a headache within 37 seconds of wearing them.
Training manuals for my current job, unread since 1993.
2 dead 486 computers, 3 dead monitors and 3 keyboards dating to 1993, plus all the manuals for each of them. (Remember when electronics came with printed manuals?)
Software manuals for programs I haven't used since 1993 and don't even have on my system.
Airline tickets and tour info for a trip to Europe in 1993. 1993 seems to have been a watershed year for sentimentality.
4 full storage boxes labeled "personal crap" and subdivided by dead family members. It's true - you can't take it with you -- God knows I tried to make my husband take his stuff.
A clown wig I wore for Halloween in 2004 and have no intention of ever wearing again.
Newsletters I wrote for a Mothers Of Twins club when my kids were babies; they are now the parents of my grandchildren.
Every craft my kids ever made and all their kindergarten papers. Every single one.
Old blankets and quilts I wouldn't use, or let anyone else use, even if the alternative were freezing to death.
Waterlogged books with missing covers that either accompanied me in long baths or were recovered from the Titanic. Not sure which.
67 videos, most of which I also have on DVD, and an uncounted number of cassette tapes, not listened to for at least 8 years.
9 dried corsages from important although now unremembered events. This is critical shit to keep, ya know? Also, the dresses I wore to my sons' weddings. No wonder they don't display the family photos.
Complete veterinary records, licenses, collars and leashes for two dead dogs. Jesus.
A tiny box of salt from the Bonneville land speed trials - not suitable for cooking.
The best discovery: A Clinton/Gore election button -- ahhh, the good old days.
A box containing every cheap glass vase I ever received from flower deliveries (AND the cards that accompanied them). You can't give these vases away - people demand payment for them, and the garbage service refuses them.
A disaster box -- no, not earthquake supplies -- magazines from the Challenger accident, Princess Diana's death, Bush's election and re-election, the WTC attacks, etc. Something to read whenever I'm feeling too happy, I guess.

Oh, yeah, there's a LOT more crap, and if Ricky were around, I'd have some 'splainin to do. I know there are no blogs in heaven so I can't apologize to the dead I was so snotty to about their pack-rattedness... but one victim is this blog's #1 fan, so to my seester Margie I offer this confession and apology, down on my aching knees.

I will now open the 1989 bottle of water and use it to wash down ALL the mean words about sentimentality I've ever said --- and that I've just eaten.

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The Vajayjay Factor

2008-08-31T17:44:00.000-07:00

(If you don't understand the term 'vajayjay', you are not getting your minimum daily requirement of Oprah.)

The talking heads are still talking about Sarah Palin's desirability and potential risk/benefit to the GOP ticket. It obviously took most everyone by surprise, particularly since other, more prominent, names had been chewier media fodder before the long-anticipated announcement.

From the PowerLine blog, here is a comment made just weeks before by McCain regarding his choice and what qualifications he/she might have. Here is another post, also from PowerLine, talking about overestimating "the gender issue" and overlooking Palin's true qualifications.

She's a new face to me, and this post isn't about Palin-the-person's place on the ticket. She may be the greatest thing since smoked Alaska salmon and may even give the Republicans a winner against Hillary in four or eight years, according to AWCF (a wise conservative friend).

What struck me today is the probability that, yeah, she was chosen on the basis of gender and, glass ceiling or not, it pisses me off.

We've all watched The West Wing, so we all know that the candidates don't act alone, particularly in a choice this important and particularly when the opponent is even or a bit ahead in the polls. Smoke-filled room or not, it was a decision made with advice, and it's those conversations that I find irritating and demeaning.

Hillary's 18,000,000 primary votes are not insignificant -- and certainly, many of those were sincere "I Love Hillary" votes. Possibly many were cast for her just because she's a woman. Certainly, many were against the GOP because of Bush's presidency; many were cast by die-hard Democrats whose hand would wither and die should they pull the lever for any but a Democrat; many were pro-Democrat but anti-Obama -- for whatever reason. We'll never know all the reasons, and it's certainly moot at this point.

But, in making the recommendation and decision about Palin's candidacy, also certainly some of the discussion was, "Yeah, wow, 18,000,000 votes for Hillary. We need a woman. We really need a woman. Find us a woman - now."

Why isn't the discussion and decision, "This is the best qualified human. This human has foreign policy, economics, military, political and executive experience -- what a great addition to the ticket."

According to USAtrivia.com, nine times in our history the office of President has been assumed by the VP. It's happened three times since 1945, which makes any VP a heartbeat, a resignation or an impeachment away from the Oval, which makes the VP office itself more than a nice photo op and address. It also makes the selection of the candidate for that office pretty damn critical -- way beyond the vajayjay factor.

If Palin was chosen as McCain's running mate because she has ALL the qualities necessary to become President should there be a fateful event or crisis, and also because she can energize the conservative base and bring some youth and vigor to an old man's campaign, well, great... nice to meet you, Sarah. Good luck, and by the way, nice caboose.

If, however, she made the ticket primarily because of her gender, I see that as an insulting act of condescension toward all women voters. It's every bit as bad (and exactly the same) as Democrat politicos assuming that because a voter is African-American, he/she will be voting for Obama.

I fought the good fight for women's liberation in the 70's (written about here), and if any woman in America is thrilled that "a woman" is on a Presidential ballot, even in the second slot, I would be that woman.... but NOT if she were chosen because of the vajayjay factor.

I was going to post a long harangue about the process by which the VP is selected -- through choice, not through votes, but this post has done it for me.

Maybe it's time to stop voting for "a unit of presidency" and vote for each separately.
Maybe it's time to take out the race/religion/color/penis/vajayjay factors, too.

Every time I consider our four candidates I stick my thumb in my mouth and try to console myself with this thought: Despite Bush and all that he has wrought, maybe, just maybe the person who sits in the comfy chair in the Oval Office doesn't matter all that much. Maybe. Hopefully.
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Hallelujah! The Way To Heaven Is The Ballot Box

2008-08-28T09:50:00.000-07:00

The pickets of this political fence I've been sitting on have been getting pointier and pokier day by day. I was so relieved that Joe Biden finally made my choice clear last night at his nomination acceptance speech.

If I vote for Obama, I will get everything I have always dreamed of through the largess of my government and His Goodness, Barack Obama. Without stringing a single light, Santa will be here with his sack on his back -- without coloring an egg, the Easter Bunny's basket is mine -- without parting with another pearly white, the Tooth Fairy will visit my pillow -- and all these amazing gifts will be mine, all mine:

Barack Obama will deliver that change. Barack Obama will reform our tax code. He'll cut taxes for 95 percent of the American people who draw a paycheck. That's the change we need.

Barack Obama will transform our economy by making alternative energy a genuine national priority, creating 5 million new jobs and finally freeing us from the grip of foreign oil. That's the change we need.

Barack Obama knows that any country that out teaches us today will out-compete us tomorrow. He'll invest in the next generation of teachers. He'll make college more affordable. That's the change we need.

Barack Obama will bring down health care costs by $2,500 for the typical family, and, at long last, deliver affordable, accessible health care for all Americans. That's the change we need.

Barack Obama will put more cops on the streets, put the "security" back in Social Security and never give up until we achieve equal pay for women. That's the change we need.

Wow! Where's my absentee ballot? I wanna vote RIGHT NOW for the ticket that can make and fulfill all of those promises.

Oh No! This is reality, not Santa's workshop. Where is the price tag for all that pie in the sky? What is the source of funding for 2009's bag of tricks, especially when "He'll cut taxes for 95 percent of the American people who draw a paycheck." I suppose those evil corporations will just have to pony up more tax dollars...and I know, because The Wizard told me so, that none of that will be passed along to consumers, here in the Land of Oz.

It's a terrible thing to be a wayward political compass whose needle swings to the left with glorious promises and to the right with reality checks and facts. If I'd had a voting machine lever in my hand last night, Bill Clinton would have been re-elected.

And, like the Scarecrow, if I didn't have a brain and a soupcon of common sense, I'd consider voting for Barack Obama, purveyor of the impossible dream.

Yikes...... I think I just made a decision. Alert the press. Film at 11.
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I Don't Get It -- And I Don't Wanna Get It

2008-08-24T12:54:00.000-07:00

There are a lot of things I don't understand about Life, even with my advancing age and broad experience, but I gotta tell you, the celebrity mystique is up there at the top of the list. I just don't get it. I mean I REALLY don't get it.

Oh sure, I kept a scrapbook of movie stars when I was 13, and when the subject comes up I'll match my "celebrities I've met" list against anyone's.

Lassie (the real one - the boy dog);
Patrick Swayze (well, I didn't meet him, but I ate dinner at the next table);
Joan Baez, Kim Novak and Clint Eastwood - no big deal - anyone who has ever lived in Monterey County has met at least one of this triad. I swear I've never asked for an autograph, though -- not even a paw print from Lassie.

I'm sure as this interminable election season moves along we're going to be hearing celebrity endorsements and watching snippets from celebrity fundraisers for the candidates. This is the point where my unbelief slams into American pop culture. Why should their endorsement, or even their opinion, carry any weight whatsoever? What makes their opinion of any candidate more valid than my next door neighbor's? Do they have some kind of political credentials only they and their hairdresser know about?

Nope.

Brief aside: A couple of years ago, Hollywood came to my area and filmed a really bad movie in which one of my sons had a brief part. Knowing that watching the filming of a movie was on my list of "things to do before I die," he invited me to the set. It was both fascinating and the most boring afternoon of my life, but it does give me the authority for the following three paragraphs.

So -- you come to Hollywood with 50,000 other aspiring actors and, through chance or connections or your willingness to be oh so nice to producers and agents -- and maybe even through talent and training -- you get a break in the movie biz.

Your workday goes something like this: A limo picks you up from your residence and drives you to the studio or location, where you sit in "hair and makeup" for a couple of hours. You work with the costumers until you're just as beautiful or handsome as the role requires. You "work" for 2 minutes, then sit on your ass for 2 hours while the director reviews the scene with 10 people and makes minuscule changes... then you "work" for another 2 minutes. You eat a catered lunch. You might "work" for another 30 minutes and then you're driven home, oh so weary, in the same limo. If you don't have a gala to attend, you learn the next day's lines and set your alarm clock for that dreadfully early hour when you get up and do it all over again.

I know, I know, there's research, there's finding the character, there's struggling with the director to breathe life into the character and your performance... still, you have to admit, it isn't genetic engineering, rocket science or pick your metaphor for brainiac. One could to say that the only need your brain fulfills is to keep your shapely skull from deflating.

Oh yeah - the best part -- you also get to cash those lovely, lovely, big fat checks.

Wait - maybe that isn't the best part. Maybe the very, very best part is that you get to live as part of America's uncrowned royalty -- just you and your plastic surgeons, your 8 spouses, 5 kids from 5 different marriages and 2 long-time partners, your addictions and many nights in rehab that you're so proud of, your psychiatrist, arresting officer, attorney, masseuse, astrologer, Learjet pilot, housekeeper and staff, your security personnel, your publicist, business manager, banker and agent... and don't forget the family that done you wrong, so wrong.

OK, maybe that's a little exaggerated...but not by much for the creme de la creme of Hollywood.

To me the life of a celebrity seems like the epitome of sleaze and all that is wrong with our culture -- however, to many it is THE American Dream.

Pardon me for being obtuse, but I still don't see how working in the entertainment field and being a household (slutty) name lends any credibility to your political opinion. What piece of logic am I missing here?

Because your face has been on a movie screen 50 times life-size, and because it's your sad visage I see on the tabloids at the supermarket and your name I hear on network news for yet another scandal -- THAT qualifies you to endorse a candidate and I'm supposed to follow your lead?

Certainly everyone enjoying our American freedoms has the right to express an opinion, stand up for what they believe in, protest whatever evils they see and lobby for change. War records from the Revolution to last month's mid-East tally attest to the worth of those precious rights.

I just don't get why a celebrity's viewpoint is assumed to carry any more weight that the soccer mom down the street, the hot DHL delivery driver, the Starbucks server or any one of the other 301 million Americans.

I certainly don't get why a supposedly serious candidate would even want the endorsement of the King or Queen of Sleaze. Maybe I can understand if they're raising money, because no one has more money than Hollywoodites and there's no tighter clique than entertainers. But really -- I mean REALLY -- you're trying to convince America you have the intelligence, integrity, principles and leadership qualities to become President... and here's Bambi BigBoobs, Daisy Dipshit and Slab Hardbody who will attest to your qualifications -- and you think their endorsements will sway MY vote?

Arrrgh. Like I said a couple of hundred words ago -- I don't get it.

Photo Friday -- Headed Home, Paris to California

2008-07-23T08:35:00.001-07:00

The Other Side Of The News

2008-07-21T20:30:00.000-07:00

Most days I feel like Arte Johnson (from Rowan & Martin's Laugh-In) -- merrily riding my little red tricycle through life until the trike just.... falls over. Some days I fall to the Right and other days you can find me lying in the Left's green grass.

The Environment is high on my personal list of idealistic priorities -- the REAL environmental issues, not the pimped-up, Gored-up phony ones. Effective assistance to the disadvantaged is also on that list, and since I'm not a national defense fanatic, those three stances undoubtedly put me left of center.

Plenty of other issues will find me leaning to the right, however, so my little trike wobbles around a lot, sporting neither a donkey nor elephant bumper sticker.

In fact, I really don't understand blind, knee-jerk allegiance to either political party. I don't understand rabid single-agenda people who shut out at least half of the population's ideas and ideals; those who won't read, listen, watch or otherwise consider opposing points of view AND the possibility that those viewpoints may have merit and validity.

I certainly don't understand the Obama phenomenon where millions of people are blindly parading toward apparent victory behind a person with questionable financing ties, no significant accomplishments and who changes his mind and positions daily, along with his socks. But then, this parade is also marching to the drumbeat of the mainstream media.

I sent out a plea to friends who are exposed to material OTHER THAN network news and liberal blogs, begging for links to centrist or conservative websites where at least the opposition can be read, if not believed. I know that reading "PowerLine" for a year has opened my eyes and, I hope, broadened the scope of my information and knowledge a bit.

Here are a few recommendations from people I respect.
If you're a liberal leftie, take a chance and click one or two, if only to confirm your own thoughts... or if only for a laugh.
If you're a conservative rightie, you already get the opposing view from network news, but you might find some new and interesting places to park your trike for a few minutes.

powerline.com
ace.mu.nu
littlegreenfootballs.com
instapundit.com
pajamasmedia.com
melaniemorgan.com
jihadwatch.com
realnews.com
canadafreepress.com

I'm going to list these in a box on the right in a few days. If you have a favorite blog or website, send it to me and I'll include it. Yes, yes, liberal ones, too.

Bird Heaven

2008-07-03T09:37:00.000-07:00

Years ago, before the word 'amygdala' ever bounced off a phobia therapist's keyboard, I was uncomfortable around creatures with wings. Well, okay, I was terrified of every bird, bee, fly, moth and angel I ran into.

After annoying my neighbors with shrieking, hysterical demands to "COME AND GET THIS GIANT RAPTOR OUT OF MY HOUSE," and once even stopping my car in the fast lane of the freeway to evict a hitchhiking moth, I decided it was time to get over the fear. I reasoned that if I started feeding wild birds, slowly getting used to that freaky fluttering they do, I'd snap out of it... or maybe at least get used to THINGS WITH WINGS.

Short version: It worked. The longer version follows.

During the Great Depression, homeless transients ( known back then as bums) would pass along addresses of kind women who might provide a meal for those down on their luck. I'm pretty sure that tradition still exists among backyard birds as I have hundreds of free-loaders knocking at my door each morning. Or rather, I have every damn blue jay and magpie within 16 blocks tap-dancing and screeching outside my window at 5:30 a.m. to get my lazy ass out of bed and put out the damn peanuts!

I didn't start with peanuts. I started by throwing pieces of squishy Wonder bread up on my garage roof. This arrangement annoyed the hell out of my thrifty and very orderly husband, who was convinced that the bread would: a) rot the gutters (bread being a known toxic, hazardous substance); b) draw ants, mice, snakes, cats, raccoons, squirrels, armadillos and giraffes; and, c) oh yes, cost too damn much. I stuck to my guns and my plan for mental health, though, and my only concession was to buy the bread from the day-old bakery.

The roof bread may have interested a passing possum now and then, but it was my yellow Lab who knew he had died and gone to heaven. As soon as he heard the rustle of the bread wrapper he ran to the carefully calculated spot where an errant chunk would roll off the roof's slope and plop into his waiting chops. He'd stay there for hours, waiting for that final crumb kicked by a clumsy bird.

The birds loved my strategy. The dog loved it. The husband got used to it (although he never stopped bitching about the damage to the gutters?? and he refused to let me throw tuna for the gulls)...and I was cured of my phobia... although now I'm hooked like a crack whore on feeding birds. I haven't been able to stop, and I think I need some "anonymous" group's help. "Hi, I'm Cyn. I spend $1000 a year feeding wild birds."

The only fight I've ever had with my neighbors has been about bird feeding. When I moved here eight years ago, this area had just been developed from agricultural land, and there were thousands of mouse bums who instantly caught on that the crazy lady in the muumuu puts out peanuts every day, and isn't it just peachy to hide them in the tidy garages which are our new, upscale mouse homes, complete with stocked pantries. Up and down the street, door to door in whispers, I was blamed for causing a mouse infestation. What the hell? I didn't CREATE the damn mice and it wasn't my construction that displaced them... and if they're resourceful enough to find the peanuts, well, good for them.

I don't have much to do with my neighbors now.

Since I've lived here, I've fed and housed eight annual crops of baby scrub jays, yellow-billed magpies, 15-pound California crows, red-winged blackbirds, sparrows, finches, wild canaries, robins, pigeons, Oregon juncos (migrating each year to my backyard), and those nasty, fat cows everyone thinks are peaceful but are really vicious devils at a feeder... doves. Because there is a bird preserve about five miles away, as the crow flies, I also get curious herons and egrets surveying the scene from the house behind me... although I suspect they may be more interested in the neighbor's koi pond buffet. The 200-year-old oak next door is this year hosting the nest of a pair of Swainson's hawks, with two babies who will soon to learn to fly, and there was even a family of wood ducks in its branches high overhead this spring.

It's great entertainment. The Blue Angels have nothing on blue jays learning to fly -- they're swift, flamboyant and deadly accurate in their aerobatic precision, plus they're argumentative and aggressive, which makes them more fun to watch than F/A-18's. The only downside to my pursuit (besides the poop, of course) is that every time I have my windows cleaned, one or two stupid doves make a point to bash their heads against the glass -- knocking themselves sillier for a minute and leaving a perfect oily imprint on my sliding door.

It's all lovely, pastoral, therapeutic, one with nature, fun and worth every penny I spend.

All except for the single goddamn mockingbird who, for two months a year, whistles, screams, chirps, sings, moans, clicks, tweets, barks like the terrorist terriers next door, and raises a freaking racket for 23 hours a day. What was the name of that book and movie? To Kill A Mockingbird? Harper Lee definitely had the right idea.

Google, Obama, The Truth and The Media

2008-07-01T11:20:00.000-07:00

I'm disappointed, disheartened and downright pissed that the likely names on the November presidential ballot will be McCain and Obama. Out of the circuses that were the Republican and Democrat primaries, these two are the very best our country can come up with?

If my feet were held to the fire, I'd admit to being a very conservative Democrat or a very liberal Republican. I would have been satisfied with an intelligent, youngish though experienced, ethical, truth-telling, visionary candidate of either party, so I'm fairly sure I can write this without bias to either donkey or elephant.

Even though I fit the demographic of the majority of HRC's supporters, my admiration for her waned and wilted as soon as I read her autobiography "Living History". I honestly believed in the "vast right wing conspiracy" that drew so much energy and attention away from the promise of Bill's years in the White House.... until I read the book. There is a vein of dishonesty, deception and evasion that runs through the book, particularly in the chapters having to do with the very investigations that were so relentlessly pursued. I probably couldn't point to specifics, but the book itself left an impression of dishonesty surrounding all things Hillary... however, she got my vote in the California primary, not "for Hillary" but absolutely against Obamarama, and in November, there's going to be at least one write-in vote for Franklin Delano Roosevelt.

I'm not sure how or when it happened, but the O has certainly become the media's darling boy, and, given the power and influence of selective reporting, a coronation looks ever more inevitable. The problem here is not the mindless "Barack-star" adulation that has put him solidly in the nominee's seat. The problem is the lack of scrutiny and investigative reporting that he seems to be enjoying, at least at this stage of the game.

If either McCain or HRClinton had changed positions as lithely and speedily as O has done, we would have had weeks of it in the media. Obama plays the expedience game like a master -- like a master from Chicago, in fact, and he's not held to accountability by his loving and forgiving press. His gaffes, which he usually and immediately blames on his staff, are reported the day they occur and may turn up once or twice more, but they are never treated with the firestorm of blather that have roasted other candidates.

Can you imagine what we would have heard from the media had HRC or McCain removed Muslim women from the diversity photo showcase at more than one of their speeches? Can you hear the outcries if one of their spiritual advisers had crossed the line of reason as did Rev. Wright? How many crosses would they have been nailed to had they changed their positions on special interest and campaign financing, terror surveillance, the handgun ban, the Cuban embargo, decriminalization of marijuana, illegal immigration, troop withdrawal from Iraq, NAFTA... just to name a few. (There are so many links to these flipflops I didn't include them... Google has them for you, if you want to check.)

Even in its minimal reporting of the above switcharoonies, the press universally attributed them as being raised for political agendas by either Hillary or the Republican opposition -- instead of the media itself doing the straight-up reporting we should expect from fair coverage (if such a thing still exists).

In checking for examples of the above, I found a number of articles written by (obviously) his friends in the press who attributed these turnarounds to "something candidates normally do at the beginning of a campaign." Right. I understand. It's peachy if the candidate is the one sailing down the aisle toward coronation -- it's a scandal if any other candidate does it.

I don't like Obama. I haven't liked him from his first explosion onto the media stage, and nothing I've seen since has changed my opinion. Maybe I've watched my DVD collection of The West Wing too often, but I feel the office of the President carries with it a gravitas that is distinctly missing in a slick, wiggly empty suit who has been catapulted to his position ONLY through his articulate speechifying, his behind-the-scenes political ties, and his ability to raise and spend millions of dollars.

He may be uber-intelligent but his life experience hasn't, in my opinion, prepared him for the awesome responsibilities of the Oval Office. Some say that's a good thing. Some say it's the only way to effect real change in Washington. Some may have their heads lodged in a dark and claustrophobic canal, too. His presumptive nomination is, in my mind, the reflection of the worst our American culture... worshiping the young, the attractive, the charismatic celebrity -- the ultimate example of flash without substance. That may be okay for the latest pop tart, but it may have devastating consequences in this case.

I don't trust Obama. I think he'll do anything (ANYTHING) in his quest for the White House, and I think we've seen a bit of that already. Although I usually eschew the underbelly of politics when it comes to disclosing errant prior or current behavior, questionable ties or a penchant for espousing the position-of-the-day, I'm looking forward to what the Republicans come up with as they turn their considerable forces on their party's opponent. It sure as hell isn't going to come from normal press channels since Obamarama is the media's darling. I hope some brave reporter or some well-funded Republicans do the hard work of exposing his Chicago ties and the special interest money he's so adept at acquiring. In fact, I can't wait.

Photo Friday -- Yorkminster, 2006

2008-06-27T08:04:00.001-07:00

Hi After Hiatus

2008-06-22T16:39:00.000-07:00

The last time I wrote here was the day before Leap Day... and today is the day after Summer Solstice. There must be some secret symbolism in this occultish juxtaposition... or maybe I just wanted to type 'juxtaposition'. Anyway -- for what it's worth, I'm back at the blogging keyboard.

I checked in with all blogs in my section "Blogs Necessary To My Day," and while I've had nearly four months of days without them (proving they are hardly "necessary",) they still rang my bell. Dooce has gone big-time with mainstream media coverage of her whacked out life and entertaining writing, and Jill is still pedaling her talented self all over Alaska -- which I envy more than usual since I'm down to about half a knee, myself -- and my other favorites have been just perking along.

I was urged back to my keyboard and blogdom by two compelling prods: 1) I've kept my mouth shut about presidential campaign politics about two weeks longer than I can possibly stand; 2) Martha Beck (she of the motivational books) writes that if there is an activity where you literally lose yourself, lose touch with time and space as you engage in it, then it is connected to your "essential self." Writing for me has always fit that profile, so I'm letting my "essential self" have a little time.

What have I been doing these months, you ask?

Since I've been out of touch here, I've been on a road trip to Oregon (1300 miles, most of them beautiful, many of them challenging to drive), and I've posted a few pictures of the scenery in my gallery on the right.

I've written two children's books for my grandkids and outlined a third and fourth. I wish, wish wish marketing fiction wasn't the thoroughly tedious and disappointing experience that it is... but the reality of the business of writing is miserable. The little kids are tickled with the books, though.

Amazon sends me love letters for all the money I spend with them. Three books I'll recommend to anyone are "The Poisonwood Bible" by Barbara Kingsolver, "Under The Banner Of Heaven" by Jon Krakauer, and "Luncheon Of The Boating Party" by Susan Vreeland. I read, but wouldn't recommend "Atonement" by Ian McEwan, and if you're in the mood for a succinct and pithy assessment of Islam from a Catholic perspective, "Inside Islam: A Guide For Catholics" by Daniel Ali and Robert Spencer will wake you right up.

If you're poised on the uncomfortable horns of a life-style dilemma, Martha Beck's "Finding Your Own North Star: Claiming The Life You Were Meant To Live" is a goodie, as is her book on weight loss, "The Four Day Win: End Your Diet War And Achieve Thinner Peace." She has umpteen advanced degrees and a witty, engaging writing style (along with her penchant for long titles). If you're into New Age stuff, "You Can Heal Your Life" by Louise Hay is... interesting.

I didn't begin this blog with the idea of detailing my personal life (as oh so many and oh too many bloggers do), so I promise this will be one of very few "me me me" postings... there are just too many issues out there begging for commentary. It's nice to be back -- I hope you'll join me now and then.

A Disclaimer

2008-02-28T09:09:00.002-08:00

Gentle Readers...
I've received so many emailed comments (and a couple of phone calls) about the following post (Curmudgeons Unite!) that I wanted to add this disclaimer... (something like the warning you get before you watch live births on TV).

Dave Barry I'm not, but honestly, it was tongue in cheek, folks... yeah, those things really do annoy me, but I don't walk around muttering and wagging my head about the younger generation or how rotten the world is. Life in my corner of the world is pretty damn good, and the things I listed are just petty annoyances that keep my blood flowing.

Thanks to those who "got it" -- and really, I don't have a negative outlook. Most days.

Curmudgeons, Unite!

2008-02-19T11:20:00.000-08:00

I'm organizing the National Society of Curmudgeons, Unite! (or, if you're dyslexic, Curmudgeons, Untie!) for those of us over the mid-century mark who need a forum where we can bitch and whine and not be called grumpy old goats. Even if we are.

You'll find the qualifying exam below, and if you pass with 90%, for $29.95 you too may become a licensed, professional curmudgeon. (Heck, even if you don't pass the test, you can send me the $29.95 - I take PayPal.)

Each of the following statements is worth 10 points. See how many statements you agree with. If you yell "hell, yes!" you can add an extra five points per yell. If you can add to this list in the "Comments" section, you can add an extra big, fat TEN points per item. Such a deal!

1. You despise all cartoons, jokes, photos, virus alerts ("this one is not a JOKE!"), chain letters and liberal/conservative hate mail in your email box and you refuse to forward or return any of them, no matter the promises of good fortune or the threat of bad.
2. You hate all of #1 so much that you delete the mail without reading and don't care if it offends the sender. Sometimes you delete the sender's email address.
3. While hard porn may still titillate, soft porn in advertising really turns you off instead of on... especially when it isn't remotely subtle. You still can't believe that erectile dysfunction, condoms and KY products are advertised.
4. You haven't heard a good pop song since before 1989.
5. You consider extremely LOUD rap music in the car next to you a valid reason for the death penalty, even if you don't believe in the death penalty.
6. You remember when sizes 2, 4 and 6 were found only in the children's department, and size 0 meant newborn, 0-3 months.
7. You eat right, take your vitamins, exercise, drink plenty of water, never eat junk food, bad fats or sugar, and you still can't shed the last 20 pounds you gained simply by turning 50. You're starting not to care since gravity has taken hold anyway.
8. You don't understand Yoga. You think the human body just wasn't meant to achieve those positions except maybe on your honeymoon.
9. You've mastered the controls for your DVD player, DVR, VCR, digital camera, digital video camera, MP3 player -- but you never turn on your cell phone because someone might call you and you can't remember how to answer the damn thing.
10. All of #9, plus you never call anyone on your cell phone because you can't remember how to retrieve the numbers you stored the first day you bought it, when you were buzzed on caffeine.
11. In fact, you remember when all you had to do with a phone was pick up the receiver to answer, and stick your fingers in those little holes to make a call. Without area codes.
12. You remember when it cost a nickel to mail a letter AND the postman delivered mail twice a day during the Christmas season. And you remember life before zip codes.
13. You also remember that the Christmas season was CALLED the Christmas season and people wished others "Merry Christmas," and a nativity scene was often displayed on City property -- without a pending lawsuit from the ACLU.
14. You really hate it when a clerk or cashier grunts at you instead of saying "thank you," or, worse yet, says "no problem" when YOU thank them. Sometimes you even muffle the phrase, "I'm the customer, for crissakes. My purchase just helped to pay your minimum-wage salary, you dolt, so say THANK YOU!"
15. You feel that going out to dinner is sometimes not worth the stress because a) few places take reservations and you have to wait at least 30 minutes with strangers who look like they're having much more fun than you are and who step on your feet in the 5 x 5 waiting area; b) the music is so loud you can't talk over it, even to order; c) you no longer understand why they let kids under 12 eat in restaurants; d) you can't believe you're going to pay $35 for a meal that would cost $5 to fix at home; e) the temperature inside the restaurant in the summer is 90 degrees cooler than outside, and of course you didn't bring a jacket because it's 90 degrees outside.
16. You want to reach through the TV and smack every wise-ass, snotty, smart-mouth kid in every sit-com, and you know this is where your grandkids' friends get their attitude from.
17. You stand in line at the supermarket and don't recognize ONE person on the covers of any of the magazines or tabloids, except Liz Taylor and the Clintons.
18. You remember when TV news meant coverage of national and world events without the 15-second wrap-up slyly telling you how you should feel about the event. Ditto for the "experts" who are on hand to explain the nuances of major speeches - expecially when they are half our age.
19. Nothing makes you madder than hotshot techie Gen-Xers and yuppies who think they invented computer technology, when, in fact, YOU are the one who was the pioneer -- before Windows, before Apple -- when a 5 mg drive seemed like infinite storage capacity and OS and programs ran from cassette tapes. Heck, you can even speak in binary.
20. You're really convinced all parents of celebrity brats are insane and wonder what caused them to abdicate all responsibility when their kid turned 12 and wanted to be a star, at the expense of their life. You're even beyond sympathy for them.
21. You wonder where "common sense" has gone. Has it disappeared for good from the gene pool? Did they lose it when they were mapping the human genome?
22. You sometimes buy it, but you still can't believe you pay $5 for a cup of coffee.
23. You know that everything at the supermarket costs precisely 2.5 times what it should. Yes, that tub of cottage cheese really cost $4.99 and that loaf of raisin bread was $4.39. It's why you can only say "holy crap" when the perky little checker asks you what your plans are for the day.
24. You pay $60 a month for cable or satellite service, but you only watch 5 channels out of the 247 available because, well, who would posslibly watch that crap?
25. You scream at automated phone voice recordings, especially when you're on hold for 10 minutes and you're forced to listen to their commercials for products you've already bought. You're not even embarrassed when you realize the recording has stopped and you have a live human on the other end who has heard your ranting. Screw 'em.
26. You get really, really tired of Caucasian Christians/Catholics being the only demographic left in the US that is okay (almost required) to mock, bash, slander, and otherwise defame. PC language also pisses you off.
27. You seriously wonder that out of the 300+ million people in the US, the likely candidates for President are going to be two of the three current front runners. You're considering writing in either FDR's or Reagan's name on the ballot in November. Even dead, they'd be a better choice.
28. You remember when the natural cycle of love was dating, engagement, wedding, living as a couple, parenthood -- and you wonder how those stages got so ass-backwards.
29. You really hate being so negative and grumpy about living in our current American culture, but you see so little of value in this culture, and you seriously despair for your grandkids' and great-grandkids' futures. You know it's a serious sign of old age, but our lifestyle just seems NUTS.
30. You throw away all junk mail except the ads from mortuaries offering pre-planning services. Somehow pushing daisies doesn't seem all that unappealing compared to the absurdity of life today.

A Valentine Indulgence (Calorie Free!)

2008-02-13T09:25:00.000-08:00

Spring comes early to Northern California. Before any calendar approves, and while most of the country lies locked in frigidity, Spring here dares to show both preview and promise.

On my walk last night (blissfully extended, with a long, tangerine dusk, until well after 6:30 p.m.) I spied the first opened buds of a tulip tree. In three or four days its blossoms will envelop the tree and pose for pictures, yet in a few more days all that glory will blanket the ground. It must be dangerous for that much beauty to live long, but the tree is always brave enough to send an early Valentine.

Already, flowering pear branches swell with buds -- even on branches hacked from a fallen tree, victim of our last storm. A few short weeks and those trees will fill the neighborhood with clouds of pearly blossoms, looking more like misplaced snow-laden trees than the harbinger of Spring they are.

I have buds on the pink jasmine outside my office window, and the climbing pink rose next door has already bloomed, spying on me from atop the fence. Potted geraniums, too stupid to tell one season from another, have never stopped blooming, but the rest of my garden still hibernates, waiting for warmer, longer days. Neighbors more ambitious than I made room in their refrigerators last fall for tulips, daffodils, hyacinth and crocus bulbs, and already they're pushing their way out of the earth, searching for sun.

California's summer-brown hills begin their cycle now, with weeks of rain and a few days of sunshine coaxing them into a green so green they color the air. For the next two months, they too will pose for a million digital snapshots, with and without cows (say cheese), and the twisted oaks will sport just a rumor of the foliage to come.

Easter is so early this year that my 13 roses will have to go to plan B and bloom for my birthday instead. For now, their job is simply to raise their twiggy, blunted arms to the sky and drink in the rain, and to wait for the infusion of food they'll get on March 14th. (Scratch a Catholic, find a ritual. Feeding day is always March 14th, just as pruning day is January 24th. Favorite birthdays make it easy to remember annual customs.)

Even though we've had warm, sunny days for a week and the miracles have already begun, Punxsutawny Phil predicted six more weeks of winter, which is just about right, even for California. The western ridge of the Sierra, visible from my front yard, is rimmed with snow, and the snowpack this year has topped 140% of normal. I know we still have weeks of rain, wind and icy weather to face before the threat is over...but these few days of respite and prediction are wonderful.

....And We're Off!

2008-02-06T08:00:00.000-08:00

Thanks to those who have inquired about my silence on this blog lately. I've taken a break from blogdom for a few weeks - not reading any, not writing any, hoping that the blog muse would sing to me again after an absence. Aries are not known for their constancy when the shiny newness wears off of an interest or passion. But, Lord, who can resist blogging on the day after Super Tuesday, aka Mardi Gras? Shirley, not I.

I'm just positive that in two hundred, five hundred, nine hundred years or so, after our artifacts have been unearthed by alien anthropologists, some pointy-eared, web-fingered, duck-footed, carbon dioxide-breathing professor type will conclude that the science and art of marketing/advertising was the single-most influential factor of American civilization.

Marketing has been around in some form or other since Eve traded half an apple for a designer fig leaf, but it really worked up steam in the last half of the last century, when our over-productive economy began selling everything to everybody. Here, Wikipedia tells me that in 2006, US spending on advertising reached 156 billion dollars, worldwide it was 385 billion, and the 2010 expenditures are expected to be half a trillion dollars.

Old print and TV advertisements, old actors in costumes, old familiar trademarks have become iconic and generate instant nostalgia when resurrected. I'll always have a warm spot in my heart for Wonder Bread, with its colorful polka dots on its fresh white wrapper -- the wrapper that, unfortunately, has more nutritional value than the white bread inside. Today, those Happy California Cows tempt me to push the envelope on lactose intolerance, even though I think most cheese is disgusting. And just look at the millions (yes, you too) who tuned in to the Super Bowl, not just for the game but for the entertainment of the gazillion-dollar commercials. For heaven's sake, when Dick Wilson (the Charmin toilet tissue spokesman) died, he rated mention on national news -- now that's product recognition and consumer loyalty.

Marketing isn't all bad, of course. Religious, charitable, educational and health-care institutions all reserve a large chunk of their operating budgets for "communication", i.e., marketing. Would we know smoking is a serious health risk without the health marketers who tell us so? On the other hand, would we even BE smoking without the marketing that brought us Lucky Strike Goes To War, Joe Camel and the Marlboro Man?

Now there's the question. Would we be doing or thinking anything at all without marketing? It's certainly one of our primary sources of information, and I don't mean just paid marketing. It's one of the most important ways our culture is modeled to us -- it's where many of our cultural myths come from, where we learn what to expect (inaccurately, all too often) from Life itself.

Hollywood has done its share of marketing the fantasy of the American Dream. Marital bliss, extra-marital bliss, the Happy Family, the princess wedding, teenage angst (did teenagers even exist before Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland?), women without cellulite and sagging breasts, strong, able MEN who run businesses, solve the world's problems and inhabit the White House. I don't even want to think what Disney has sold to generations of kids since the 1950's.

Wiki also talks about public interest advertising, cause marketing, social marketing and, God help us, political marketing. Which brings me to the point of this blog on this day.

By the time the professional marketers are finished with us in November, we won't have one clear idea who really stands for what, whose background facts are valid, who knows or means what he/she says. What we will know is exactly and only what the pros want us to know. (Remember Bill Clinton's "It's the economy, stupid!" Well, it worked, didn't it.)

Every speech, every article, every appearance, every sound bite will be geared to a precise audience that has been analyzed to death by its demographics. Each of us will have been sectioned and cross-sectioned in so many ways we'll look like we've been mashed through a potato ricer.

How many demographics describe you? Think: Age, race, marital status, income, education, employment, ethnicity, children, religious and political party affiliation, sexual orientation... all of which are only the tip of the melting iceberg. Practically every move we make, every health issue, every purchase, every vice and virtue, every interest, every problem and concern, every facet of our lives can be quantified by someone who never met a statistic they couldn't manipulate.

All of this -- ALL OF THIS -- will be fodder for the coming months' politicking. You can bet that if you're watching a candidate's speech or debate, your issues will be spoken to in the exact language they think you want to hear -- not in cold truth, not in objective facts, but in phrases tested for their palatability by focus groups representing your demographic.

Even though our "free press" is idealistically supposed to be free of influence, we all know it's not. (If you don't think that is an accurate statement, could it be because your views are the same as the media's?) Don't look to the major media outlets for any objectivity in the coming months. You may get two sides of the story presented in the same 90-second coverage, but bias will be present in the language, in the attitude, in the smug and arrogant presentation that, in the end, will showcase the media's choice to the best advantage.

In this blog post I wrote about the lack of objectivity I find in the media at all levels. I stand by that post, and I personally dread the months to come. Because we are so susceptible to marketing, and so bombarded by it in every arena, I know that the person who takes the oath of office next January will be the candidate with the slickest marketing campaign -- the one who will be sold best to the American public, exactly the same as the "real cheese from the happy California cows."

Global What?

2008-01-15T07:40:00.000-08:00

I'm one of the many people not completely convinced that cyclic climatic changes can or should be attributed solely to human intervention. I have written about this at length, and somewhat cynically, here, and here, and probably ten other places, too.

Of course I believe we have an obligation to safeguard our environment through protection of natural resources, responsible industrialization and development of new energy sources. If the trendy "green movement" manages to make that happen quicker than it would have otherwise, well, yay.

I sometimes feel, though, that the greenies are dancing a strange manic dance, echoing some ancient ritual of sacrifice to the weather gods. The past two centuries of scientific knowledge and technological advances have allowed us to become incredibly arrogant. Where once we stood in awe of the unknown, we now think we understand most complexities of the natural world, and worse, we labor under the delusion that we can exert significant control over it.

A friend and faithful reader of this blog, who lives in spotted owl country north of me, forwarded the following article by Oregon geologist Rauno Perttu, which was published in a local newspaper. Mr. Perttu was kind enough to permit me to link to it HERE. I'm offering it without comment -- it speaks for itself. (After linking, use the "View Full Screen" option at the top of the page, next to the title.)

The Jammy Brigade

2008-01-09T09:00:00.000-08:00

Whenever I meet another fortunate soul who works at home, it takes about 3.2 seconds to chuckle together about the very best part of the situation -- working in our jammies. My daily work is delivered to me by DHL, and I don't think any DHL driver has ever seen me dressed (on the rare occasions he even sees me). My neighbors, I'm sure, assume that I am disabled to the point of being incapable of dressing myself, since I often toddle down the street to the mailbox at noon... still in my jammies. Actually, in the summer months, they should be grateful that I'm even wearing jammies, since my daytime attire is, shall we say, much flimsier.

I tried to provide quantitative data on the current number of home workers In the US, but, A) I don't do statistics since they intrinsically involve numbers, and B) the Department of Labor tables I did find were so minuscule I couldn't see them on the screen, let alone interpret them. I did find that in 2004 it was estimated that 20 million people worked at home, either as employees or in their own businesses, and I heard this morning on the Today show that the number is now estimated to be 40% of the work force.

That's a LOT of jammies!

If the clothing manufacturers were paying attention, we'd see a proliferation of comfy clothing designed for the work-at-home crowd -- something a tad more presentable than silk knit pajamas imprinted with little blue dogs. I suppose velour sweat pants with a matching jacket would do... but that's entirely too much like getting dressed for me.

When I was still playing the corporate executive game, I spent a LOT of money on business attire -- and I even remember budgeting 30 minutes each morning to "accessorize." Jesus! I still have all those scarves, necklaces, brooches and doodads... stuffed in a box, high in my closet. My only concession to accessories these days is to clean my glasses on alternate Tuesdays.

One of my sons recently joined the jammy brigade and rapidly discovered the blessings of working at home, although he is an employee, not an entrepreneur, and the dynamic is a bit different. He's tethered to his Blackberry, where I'm free to not answer the damn phone if I so choose. He is able to answer email while running household errands, but that wouldn't work for me since they make you turn off your cell phone in movie theaters. Yes, I sneak out to the movies as often as there's something worth viewing, (Charlie Wilson's War, for instance.)

I know that, for me, productivity is overwhelmingly greater working at home, but it also requires a bit more self-discipline than working in an office. There aren't the same distractions at home (15 people stopping by to say hi, bring you a donut or sit on your desk to bitch and gossip), but the distractions are there. For instance, my refrigerator is only 18 paces away, which is NOT a good thing. The nearest bathroom, however, is only nine feet from my desk, which saves, I'm sure, at least an hour a day in traveling time.

In the summer I get distracted by the LOUD chattering of magpies and jays in the oak tree next door, and in the winter the drama of wind and rain draws me away from my small office window to the wider vista from my living room. During last week's storm (you heard about it on national news) I counted each of the five billion oak leaves that sailed into my yard, then wondered where I could get sandbags if the rain didn't stop. (It did..)

The Internet, of course, is the biggest distraction -- but that's not limited to those working at home. In 2005, it was estimated that fooling around on the Internet cost American businesses $178 billion in lost productivity -- and certainly by now that number is even higher. That surely beats the numbers from previous decades of money lost around the water cooler.

I'll admit the Internet is my biggest downfall -- from email to blogging to stopping by a chat room, to just plain surfing. Since my income depends on meeting contractual deadlines, however, it's not the problem it may be for others... particularly employees. A business-owner friend recently installed stealth software and found one employee spending nearly six hours daily on Yahoo, and another employee playing Internet games a couple of hours each day -- or maybe I should say former employees.

Home workers do have genuine isolation to deal with, but some of us treasure that above all. Those who miss interaction manage to stay electronically connected with the outside world, and often stay more connected with their families, who are sometimes underfoot.

The lack of a daily commute is a huge all-around benefit to working at home. Maybe we who work in our jammies deserve a "green" tax credit for our smaller carbon footprints... or maybe not paying that $3.25/gallon price is reward enough. I'm down to one tank of gas a month, but then I enjoy atypical, official "hermit" status. My fuel consumption will be reduced further once spring hits, since I plan to take my granny cart and hike the two miles to the grocery store. I only hope I remember to change from my jammies to jeans.

Well, nice chatting with you. I have to start a load of laundry, empty the dishwasher, take a shower and put on fresh jammies and, oh yes, get to work.

Resolutions For Everyone Else

2007-12-31T09:35:00.000-08:00

Tonight's finale of the holiday season, the advent of 2008, will be celebrated with champagne and fireworks, along with the promise of a full day of football and hangovers. Tomorrow also brings those annoying resolutions we're supposed to be making.

Since I've never been able to maintain any resolution longer than a couple of weeks, I've written a few new-leaf policies for the rest of the world.

All terrorists, military, paramilitary, rabble-rousing personnel and those commanding them, put the guns down and go home. We've had enough of war and violence. Just stop it.
There will be a little white pill next to everyone's toothpaste tomorrow morning. It will permanently eliminate your craving for junk food, alcohol, celebrity worship, tobacco, rap "music" and anorectic women. Take the pill. The only side effect from it will be an uncontrollable desire to eat broccoli. Take it anyway... there's a lot of cheap broccoli available.
Every word about "the green movement" will be researched, documented and proven before it's written or spoken. All solutions to global warming, and industrially-caused global warming itself, must be declared objectively factual before we hear one more syllable about it.
The theme music for all network news and political commentary TV shows will be the Shut Up Song by the Black Eyed Peas. (There's a version at the bottom of this column entitled "Drew Lachey's Tango") If you don't know the lyrics, they go like this.
Shut up
Just shut up
Shut up [3x]
Shut it up, just shut up
Shut up
Just shut up
Shut up [3x]
Shut it up, just shut up.
We have far too many State and Federal laws. We have more laws than any citizenry can ever be expected to follow. Enough is enough. All legislators, go home. Take the next four years off. We don't need any more laws. Don't give us that song and dance about also being responsible for passing budgets. You don't do it on time and you never balance them. We'll keep the 2007 budget in place until 2011. Just keep printing the checks and we promise we'll pay all the taxes we legitimately owe. You keep your word, we'll keep ours.
Whoever is in charge of equalizing the value of the dollar to the Euro and Pound -- do it. It's getting too expensive to travel in Europe and I still haven't been to The Netherlands, Ireland or Provence.
American consumers, please realize you can't have it both ways. You can't buy everything marked down 250% and expect quality products made in America. Did you know you can buy a very sophisticated (Japanese) laser printer for $129? I remember when an extremely slow, serially connected dot matrix printer sold for $500. As long as we're taking advantage of low prices for almost everything (excluding food and big fat cars), I don't think we have room to complain about the source or even the quality. You might want to learn the lyrics to "Shut Up."
All teenagers (you know who you are) buy some damn jeans that fit. What possible sense does it make to wear your back pockets around your knees, your cuffs under your feet, and have the crotch of your pants hobble your thighs? It isn't cool, it looks like hell.
Guns don't kill people, bullets do, so you NRA members and sympathizers can keep your guns. The ammunition makers are going out of business at midnight tonight. Sorry.
Maybe the legislators on vacation can meet in Peoria, or somewhere equally as exciting, and consider serious election reform, the line item veto and the other white meat.
All magazines, TV programs and online articles on losing weight, getting fit and staying in shape will be prohibited from accepting advertising from food companies. I find it beyond irony, well into madness, to read a very serious article filled with good advice on getting and staying healthy, only to have the next full page, commercial or side columns of the screen devoted to grandma's recipes for butterscotch chocolate peanut butter cherry key lime whipped cream upside down cheesecake.
And that reminds me. All nonfiction writers get to take the same four years off that the legislators do. We don't need any more advice about anything... it's all been written in the last 25 years.
While I'm on the subject, there will be no more remakes of great, Academy Award-winning films. They always suck, and what's the point? Remake bad films into good ones, if you can't come up with anything original. Hint: Start with the new Miami Vice movie.

Oh, I could go on and on. It's so easy to sit here in my cozy, warm house and see solutions for the world's problems.... it keeps me from making a list of resolutions for my own life.

So -- Happy New Year! May you remain steadfast in all of your resolutions and may those flying pigs get off the ground soon.

A Disturbing Prophecy

2007-12-18T09:15:00.000-08:00

As I am ever attempting to write fiction for my grandkids (and lack any and all talent for it), I spend a good deal of time and money in the "how to write" sections of Borders and Amazon. Story-telling, especially for the younger crowd, is a very different animal than writing nonfiction and commentary. Yes, I've taken extensive courses on fiction writing for kids, and yes I've written a lot of it -- but if one isn't a natural story-teller, the genre is difficult. For example, I just used 79 words to tell you I suck at writing fiction when five would have sufficed.

Anyway, I found this marvelous little book entitled "Hooked", by Les Edgerton, who is a writer-in-residence at the University of Toledo, and a successful fiction writer. The book answered a lot of my questions about structure, dramatic tension and pacing and set me straight on techniques once learned then forgotten.

However... the final chapter of the book (excluding an epilogue) quite simply stunned me.

In the book, Edgerton takes the reader through theory and examples of developing a saleable piece from what he (and publishing editors he queried) claim makes or breaks the story -- a dynamite beginning. Apparently, if you can't captivate the interest of the potential publisher or Borders' browser in the first few paragraphs, you're sunk. The overworked editor who first sees your manuscript won't give it the time of day, so it won't be published to begin with... or if, by some miracle, it is accepted and published, a potential reader won't hand over cold, hard plastic if they're not hooked by the opening page.

I have no problem with that -- no objection to the premise. It was the reason I bought Edgerton's book in the first place. Even though I'm not writing for publication, I want to write the very best that I can for MY readers -- kids aged from two to ten.

But then...after 205 pages of thorough instruction, he drops the bomb.

If writers are still using the models they learned in school before the Vietnam war era, they're writing all wrong. You should be writing the way "they" write for the movies and TV, where the emphasis is on action, where conflicts are resolved in 150 or 24 minutes, where motives are delivered by snappy one-liners and we only graze the surface of a character. The reason, of course, is money. Publishing, like movies and TV, is an industry, driven by the market. If trivial crap sells, the public must want it -- so let's give the public what they seem to want and thereby make our fortune.

It's yet another example of what I call "the rutabaga phenomenon," which I wrote about (on a different topic) HERE. If the only veggie a grocery store stocks is the lowly rutabaga, the purchasing public who wants some kind of veggie will buy the rutabaga -- skewing the market to reflect a demand for rutabagas that doesn't exist.

I don't know about you, but I think that, with maybe one or two exceptional movies a year, the rest of the films produced are worthless, stemming from bad, bad, bad, bad scripts. The same with television -- considering the number of channels available 24/7, the percentage of GOOD television produced must be less than one percent. (Good to me meaning the quality of The West Wing.)

And writers are supposed to use THAT level of crap as their model?

I'm quoting from the book:

"The most profound changes [to story structure] have taken place in a relatively short period. Mostly during the age of television and movies and modern communication (computers, telephones, etc.) and the resultant shifts in the way we perceive information and entertainment. Our world is shrinking. Our collective attention span shrinks with it as the universe speeds up, bombarding us with more and more information. And more and more entertainment options. Books have to change or get lost in the mix. "

"As a culture, we've been trained to receive stories visually by movies and television since at least the fifties. The same hold true of literature -- because of our experience with movies, we now expect to be plunged instantly into the "action" of the story on the page just as we are plunged into the action on the screen. "

"Stories today had better be wound tight and delivered quickly. They can't begin any longer with pages of backstory and setup. To be considered publishable, they have to begin with action and with the trouble that's going to occupy the story."

Edgerton goes on to explain that passages of great description or summary will not be read, that if written they won't be published because they ultimately won't be purchased.

Well, maybe so. He's the professional and I'm just a reader -- but where does that leave all the great fiction that was produced until 1965? Those "classics" will just fall by the wayside because we no longer have the temperament or discipline to read them? We'll forego the pleasure of being transported to a fictional world because we are no longer able to sit through descriptive passages as written by Steinbeck, Austin, Faulkner or (insert your favorite author here)?

And, worse yet, today's budding author will never be able to create memorable classics of his/her own -- stories with plot, character, motives, along with a solid portrait of time and place setting? The Great American Novel wl b wrtn n txtg langg?

Again, from the book:

"Even a relatively few short years ago, some publishers were willing to put out such books in hopes of snagging one of those prestigious literary prizes. That isn't done nearly as much these days. They've discovered not enough people buy 'em."

"The market demands a different kind of novel today, and it's the publisher's job to deliver what the market wants. Which means it's our job as writers to deliver that kind of book if we expect to see it on the shelves at the bookstore."

I know change is a constant factor in the Universe -- the one sure factor we can depend on. Literature, like everything else, changes according to the culture and the times. Certainly we don't write today as they did 200 years ago. But if Edgerton is correct (and I have no reason to suspect he isn't since he supports his statements with facts and informed opinion), how infinitely poorer will be the literary experiences of our grandkids and great-grandkids if the stories they read and write are modeled after the film and TV scripts of today.

When I decided to slam the door on the corporate world and step out on a new career path, writing was the first I considered. I soon learned that any kind of writing depends on marketing, and marketing comprises about 80% of one's professional time, which drops one's actual income to about $.04/hour. "Starving writer" is not a joke. Unless you're a best-selling author, that phrase will be the first line of your resume. Do I wish I were still writing for publication? Sometimes...but maybe that's why God and Gore's Internet gave us blogs.

If you're a fiction writer, I'd suggest that you buy the book -- it's well worth the $15. Just don't read the last chapter or you'll be looking on Monster.Com for a real job.

And P.S. Merry Christmas!

The National Hamster Wheel

2007-12-03T09:08:00.000-08:00

Compared to the last 3000 years of documented civilization, our American culture runs at nearly the speed of light. We are obsessed with the instantaneous "now," and we seem, in general, to have lost both all tolerance for waiting and the virtue of patience.

Only warp speed will do for us in every instance, and our impatience has warped our relationship to natural time. Do these sound familiar?

Internet connections - fast, faster, fastest, please.
Immediate communication by texting, faxing, phoning, emailing.
Global jet travel in a day.
Overnight delivery service to/from anywhere.
Drive-through coffee, meals, laundry, funeral homes and churches.
"Slow" lanes of traffic racing at 75 mph.
Digital technology displaying photos in one nanosecond.
Instant music via downloads, instant Googled information on any subject, instant location via GPS.
"Vacations" that take us to 7 countries in 10 days and leave us confused, lagged, exhausted (and broke).

I'm surprised we haven't yet found a way to shorten pregnancy, like dry cleaning, to one-hour Martinizing gestations..(probably some researcher is hard at work on this, too).

I have to wonder how much of the beauty and wonder of Life we miss by living at this breakneck pace. How can we savor the joy or learn from the pain of each experience if we've moved onto the next before we've reflected on and assimilated THIS one?

Certainly in America we've reduced the pleasure of sweet anticipation to a flash and a flurry of to-do lists. Actually, in the case of the Christmas season, we've become so impatient that the celebration itself pre-empts the time of anticipation.

I've done my share of complaining about the Catholic church (notably HERE), but this is one facet of life they've gotten right. The church year is divided into liturgical seasons, each with its allotted time, purpose and flavor. This past Sunday marked both the beginning of the church year and the start of the season of Advent -- four Sundays of thoughtful and prayerful preparation before Christmas -- NOT to be confused with the 20+ remaining shopping days.

We all know that our American Christmas celebration (or holiday season, if you prefer) has become an orgiastic exercise in decorating/buying/giving/singing/partying that has little to do with any religious celebration. In fact, any religious connection is officially and vehemently prohibited by all levels of government -- rightly or wrongly. Just as the ancient winter solstice celebration was co-opted by the Christian Christmas, that season of celebration has been twisted and tortured into the Festival of Spending and Santa so dear to our national heart.

Our calendars are so filled with activities this time of year that by necessity we begin to celebrate "Christmas" immediately after Thanksgiving in order to fit everything in...(and Thanksgiving tumbled into our lives still dressed in Halloween costume, which fell into our laps right after Labor Day, which exploded from the sky the fifth of July, which was still colored red, white and blue from Memorial Day, when we were still eating leftover Cadbury bunny eggs....). To be sure, this frantic pace is fueled by retail marketing and a ravenous economy, but we fall in line like the good little credit-card-wielding robots we all are... and whatever meaning each holiday contains is reverenced for a full five minutes before we turn to the next. (Does the "day after Christmas sale beginning at 5 a.m." OR "buy a new car for the New Year" ring a chime with you?) In traditional terms, there really ARE 12 days of Christmas, 40 days of Lent, 50 days of Easter, and these four beautiful weeks of Advent.

To my knowledge, every major world religion -- and most of the contemporary, trendy feel-good, I-love-ME spirituality/pseudo-philosophies -- center around or at least include in their practice some form of meditation, contemplation, prayer or thoughtful silence. Whether these movements encourage union with an Other, with the "universe," with our own subconscious or linty little navel, the purpose is certainly to withdraw for a time FROM time and reflect on Someone/something deeper than the hamster wheel that is our life.

Short-term and long-term memory differ greatly in physiologic function and results and are still under investigation. My friend Wikipedia has a few interesting things to say about it HERE.

Briefly, short-term memory, our "working" memory, has very limited capacity and really IS short in duration (under a minute). It is used as both a collection point for new data and the retrieval mechanism for old data. Long-term memory requires "the process of rehearsal and meaningful association." In other words, we need to both anticipate an event then reflect on our experience of it in order to preserve it.

In my view, we have been so thoroughly indoctrinated to "live in the now" that we've lost touch with the thrill of anticipating the future. We're so eager to turn to the next event that we rarely have time to savor what we just experienced. We've come to rely on home video and thousands of photos to serve as our memories, instead of letting each lovely minute gently build a permanent mosaic of sight, sound, scent and scene -- with those stories of remembrance passed on to succeeding generations. Instead of creating that permanent mosaic, however, we're settling for a kaleidoscope of fleeting impressions that will fade all too soon, leaving only a flicker of colored light behind.

This refusal to anticipate and reflect doesn't apply to only the celebrations of our American culture but also to our refusal to learn from history -- to think that we are each inventing ourselves, our life, moment by moment, disassociated from anything previous and giving nothing to those who toddle in our footsteps. I see our culture as trying to consciously break its bonds with our collective past and unkown, risky future in favor of the new and the now.

One of the most obvious and hackle-raising cliches from the sixties is "stop and smell the roses." Even Ringo Starr sang (badly) about it HERE. It may be the phrase with the most overworked 20 letters in the English language, but it also contains one of the most powerful and enduring concepts of our human past and future.

So...happy Advent. Stop and smell the pine, the cinnamon, ginger and nutmeg, and think for a minute (or hour) what this season may mean to you. Slow down your own little hamster wheel and remember past holidays -- the good and the bad of them -- and anticipate whatever joy you expect to find in this one to come.

I'm forced by my family's calendars to celebrate an early grandkids' Christmas party this Friday, but I promise I'm putting away my hamster wheel just as soon as those dishes are done.

"...And Now, A Word From Your Local Station..."

2007-11-29T08:15:00.000-08:00

If national network news is the scary mouth of the liberal wing, local news is Dr. Seuss.

Since the night lovers have graciously returned the hour of daylight stolen from morning people in the spring (now that it doesn't do any good,) my evening walk commences about 4:15, so that I'm not trudging around knee deep in darkness and fallen leaves. Last night my entire hour's walk was accompanied by the machine-gun ack ack ack of two helicopters flying in low, slow, wide circles just east of my neighborhood route.

Annoyed and curious, I flipped on the local news when I returned and, yep, there it was, broadcast in high definition and looking like Chevy Chase's Christmas lights -- the headlights and taillight's of a massive commute traffic jam on the freeway nearest my house, causing a backup for five miles in each direction and effectively closing off all exits.

High drama and truly newsworthy, right? The irritating helicopters didn't vanish for at least another hour, so I have to assume there was award-winning video being transmitted all over Northern California of...traffic.

I know local news by definition covers local issues, and traffic is certainly a serious local concern here. The State government based downtown is surely the area's largest employer, and most of those employees surely live in one of the many nearby suburbs. But really....two hours of helicopter coverage of an accident causing a traffic tie-up? "This is the shot of the freeway at 4:35" "Here's the freeway at 4:42" "Let's go to our live HD copter and see how things look at 4:57" AAARGH! It's a traffic jam - nothing's moving or likely to move. Please, tell us about the latest protest group around the Capitol or the weeping woman whose Christmas gifts for her 14 children were stolen from her car.

I blush now when I remember contemplating my move to this area a few years ago. One of the items on the plus side of my decision list was, "bigger market area - better local news." Well, it's better than the one-horse town I moved from, but not THAT much better. In fact, a few of the reporters from one-horseville have migrated up this way as they gained a little polish and experience and advanced in their careers.

All of the local news channels have adopted the format that has earned "The View" its Emmy awards. You know -- where three or four people sit around a desk and all talk at the same time, so the viewer sees only multiple lips flapping and hands waving and CAN'T UNDERSTAND ANYTHING.

We even have one married couple who is honestly hilarious to watch. He's an older gentleman, very Jimmy Stewartesque in that he can't speak a sentence without umming, duhhing, stopping and starting. She's much younger (or has a good plastic surgeon) and the living, breathing embodiment of the question "why HIM?" She never looks at him or addresses him and seems to be truly embarrassed being on the same planet...while he mumbles along, remaining completely oblivious to most everything - except her. It's cute, funny and only slightly nauseating.

I honestly can't imagine how my parents survived for most of their life without local TV giving them minute-by-minute reports of weather conditions. Seriously. How did they manage without knowing the precise future minute the first raindrop would fall and the exact velocity of the wind at that time? Surely they weren't bright enough to know it gets colder in November in Reno and frost might form? Did they weatherproof their water pipes and gardens all on their own? The true Renaissance couple!

Just over our city's shoulder rises the crest of the mighty Sierra, with ski areas buried under an average of 360 inches of snow annually. We're the gateway to that playground as well as to any state east -- you almost have to come here to get there (unless you're traveling the southern routes, of course.) That makes winter weather a consideration, and wow, do our local stations provide those quarter-hourly updates with wild enthusiasm.

It's apparent policy to start out junior reporters on the weather-watch team, and every year, as predictable as Santa Claus, just after the very first snowflake falls some poor schmuck is rushed up to the wide spot in the road where the second flake will be seen. This vantage point is named Blue Canyon, no doubt for the numbers of smurflike noses, ears, fingers and toes of these sad-sacks who stand on the side of the road, screaming over the howling wind to catalog each and every subsequent snowflake for us.

Last year, one of these goofy guys (who could max out any enthusiometer device just by talking about the rice crop) reported from Blue Canyon right after a significant storm. He was so desperate for us to know how REALLY DEEP the snow was that when words simply failed him he handed off his frozen microphone and jumped into the nearest snow drift, flailing around and making snow reporters. Then, just so we'd really get the picture, he got up and did it again... and again... and again, like a four-year-old kid in a bounce-house.

I thought he was a complete nutbar, but those two minutes of snowy slapstick must have warmed someone's cockles as he's been moved up to weekend anchor. Bye, bye, Blue Canyon -- I wonder what poor newbie reporter is shopping this minute for thigh-high boots?

I'm sure I stand on this viewpoint alone, as I do on so many others...but why oh why is our local weather such a big friggin deal? It's not like we're frozen Minnesota or tornado-ridden Oklahoma, and so far I haven't seen a single monsoon, typhoon or hurricane.

Northern California winters are chilly, windy, rainy, and up in the nearby Sierra snow falls. In spring we have more rain and wind. It's hot in the summer (a few days very hot), and the leaves fall in cool autumn... very predictable. Steve Martin's "Wacky Weather Guy" could get a gig here easily.

Sure - let us know the forecast so we can plan our activities with reasonable certainty, but plotting lines where "this side of the street will be rainy, that side dry" is just beyond ridiculous, in my view.

Well, it's 36 degrees outside as I write this, we have a few clouds but no rain is expected. Relative humidify is 93%, the barometer is steady at 30.17, and the winds are calm at 0 MPH.

I know all that because online weather told me so. No film at 11 needed, thanks anyway.

Stress 101 Cliff Notes

2007-11-25T15:15:00.000-08:00

Except for a Trappist monk or Carmelite nun, I live probably the most stress-free life in America...seriously. It's a state I've cultivated and nurtured for the last 14 years, since life in the corporate world pushed my blood pressure up to Himalayan levels, and it was either reduce the stress or call the Garden Of Memories for their next available plot.

I'm certainly not in the advice business...since I refuse to take it from anyone else, I'm in no position to give it. I am, however, going to list a few things that I think have qualified me to write the opening sentence of this posting. Like anything else worthwhile in life, stress reduction takes some thought, planning and a few conscious decisions... plus time to actually make these changes happen. Some of them may work for you -- others you may think are completely nuts and, by association, that I'm a complete nutcase. I may be... but I'm a non-stressed-out nutcase. So there.

Job stress? I quit my job and started a profitable home business. It's possible... millions are doing it and more join the ranks every day. In one sweet fell swoop I eliminated "the boss" by becoming one. I work my own hours, the money I bring in is MY money, not some corporation's, my jammies are my work clothes and my 24-foot commute doesn't require a drop of $3.50/gallon gas. There are a few downsides, but stress isn't one of them. For me, the benefits have been incredible.

Financial stress? I've learned to live to my needs, not my wants. This doesn't mean I don't dally on ebay and Amazon, but reducing my consumption of "stuff" and slipping down a rung or two on the lifestyle ladder have been good in more ways than financially. This was also a package deal for me -- cutting back on buying also means cutting back on shopping -- which is a HUGE stressor for me. I know it's recreational and even a necessity for a lot of women, but I'm not one of 'em.

Noise stress. After eliminating from my life the unethical assholes I worked for, this was the second most important stressor, but one of the hardest to achieve. This may not apply to anyone else, but I suspect I'm not the only one whom noise makes crazy...if you don't agree, maybe you just don't realize its impact. Noise is EVERYWHERE. I'm convinced that our hunter/gatherer brains are not hardwired for all the input we receive every single minute of the day, unless we consciously control it. I DVR every single thing I watch on TV - no exception. And before God wrought the DVR, I VCR'd everything, primarily to skip the horrendous burden of commercials. Remember the good old days when a commercial break meant one or two ads, just time enough to grab a Hostess cupcake from the kitchen? Now there can be up to 10 ads during each break, and a break every 3 minutes, each with its own mind-numbing music/graphics/narration/video. I miss it all -- and it only delays my (questionable) viewing pleasure for 15 minutes, or so. Now if I could just figure out how to block out the canned music in every single store, restaurant and elevator in the world.

People stress. Nancy Reagan had this one right.. I just say NO. It wasn't hard to learn and I didn't even need to practice it in front of a mirror. N. O. No thanks. No, I'm sorry. I'd really like to, but No, I can't. This may be one of the occasions in life where a little lie is okay for the greater good. This one works for me because I'm a hard-core introvert -- extroverts may not ever be able to say no to social occasions or companionship, but I find it easy and necessary. No thanks, I already have plans that day/night/weekend/year. No. Thanks, but no. (Note: This works exceptionally well with telemarketers and other phone solicitors.)

Diet and Exercise -- yeah, you see it everywhere because it's true. Eating well and exercising regularly WORK to help reduce stress. I'm not even tempted by fast food restaurants, and I have so much guilt about eating other junk food that it's just not worth it. I'm not an exercise freak, but I do manage to walk 2-3 miles a day at least five times a week. You just can't beat those little endolphins.

Sleeping...is a problem for many of us, me included, but sleeplessness contributes to daily stress. You certainly don't want to be around cranky me after a bad night. Hypnosis has helped, as do prescription medications. I'm still up a couple of hours at night, but since this has been going on since 1984 I think it just might be chronic. Thank you, God, for pharmaceuticals.

Stress about national/world current events. This is a toughie. I want to stay informed, but "being informed" also means I must read and watch all of the horrific and sleazy occurrences of our daily lives. So, I turn off the news about every three weeks and leave it off for awhile -- catching only headlines online. My political activism and idealism years are behind me, and all that evil and scary stuff does get to me. I call this my ostrich plan -- and while it may be foolish and socially irresponsible, it does reduce my stress. This is the opposite of apathy -- I really care too much about issues and events, but I'm not convinced that worrying about things I can't influence or change does any good, anyway. For those things I can't ignore, I have this blog. (It's free and easy therapy.)

Well, that leaves holiday stress. This holly-jolly season must be near the top of the list of stress-inducers since I've already seen three online articles addressing this problem, and it's not even December yet. Those articles all talked about the things I've already managed above -- with just a few exceptions. My lights get tangled like everyone else's, and all the fattening holiday food is a constant temptation. I get really tired of all the BAD Christmas music that saturates the atmosphere everywhere I go. (Where is it written that every third-rate celebrity must produce an album of Christmas songs? I don't remember seeing "Trigger Taps Out Holiday Melodies" when I was a kid.)

I guess, as in many other aspects of life, the blessed perspective of age itself is a stress-reducer... priorities are clearer, and fewer responsibilities make the holidays lighter. This is one of those times when I wouldn't be 30 again for anything, with all the inherent stress those young-family years include. It's nice now to be "Grandma" and one generation removed from Santa's stand-in.

Now if someone would only invent a non-veggie appetizer with no calories and no fat grams that tasted like, I don't know....yummy food.

Four Score And Ten Are Plenty, Thanks

2007-11-12T09:47:00.000-08:00

Those pseudo-, quasi- and not-very-scientific articles about extending human life way past the century mark give me chills. I'm sure someday it will be possible - maybe even the norm - for many of you (not me) to live to 115, 120 - 150 - 375?

The frontier of biologic possibilities has certainly been explored and successfully tamed in terms of the mechanics of conception, joint replacements, major organ transplants, and successful treatment for those previously thought terminal from cancer and other devastating illnesses, More sophisticated possibilities are wide-open should stem cell transplant research eventually prove fruitful and the ethics of the issue are somehow resolved.

In harsher terms, we're now able to save and maintain life for millions of people who just a few years ago would have died. We're also able to prolong life for millions who in the early 20th century would have died of "old age." (FYI, doctors always put that term in quotes when relating a patient's family history, even though it seems obvious to mere mortals.)

In my work I often see patients well into their 80's who are offered surgery, radiation treatment and chemotherapy for cancers of one sort or another -- and while a few opt out for quality of life reasons, many, many take advantage of these radical and highly toxic therapies. Very often the patient's initial inclination is to refuse treatment, but they are frequently swayed by loving family members who can't bear the thought of a relative's imminent death.

Years ago, before antibiotics and modern medical treatments, and when childbearing was a leading cause of death for women and infant mortality was tragically common, death was very much a part of everyone's experience. We didn't always call undertakers to perform the last courtesies for our loved ones -- we laid them out in our parlors, held wakes there, physically assisted in burials, and then "wore mourning" for a prescribed period of time -- a constant reminder of a passing, an immediate reminder of death.

We do some of those things now, of course, but in a much more sanitized, pasteurized way. And God knows, if the "mourning period" extends longer than our feel-good society mandates, we're urged to seek help from a therapist or the ubiquitous support group.

Ours has become a culture of life-at-any-cost (well, excepting the right of the fetus' life, of course). We seemed to have come to a point of refusing to acknowledge that death IS a part of life -- the single certain, inevitable part.

Maybe I'm more at peace with this reality than many since my life has been touched by death so much. I have far more dead relatives than living ones -- and, in fact, far more dead friends, too. My kids have (jokingly) threatened to warn men I date that I'm the Black Widow, with husbands and lovers keeling over right and left... I have sometimes wondered (not jokingly) if a psychic would run screaming after one look at my aura.

If it were possible for a whole lot of "ifs" to march into place, my next career would be as a bioethicist, studying this phenomenon and the other ethical issues involved with future medical research and treatments. We have come so far with research and procedures, but has our understanding of the implications of this "progress" kept pace? When are we smart enough, moral enough to say, "no, thanks"? There are always experts lined up ten deep on all sides of the fence -- and these issues are always, always politicized -- never a strong point for solemn and serious consideration of the ethical side of any issue.

From a personal viewpoint, I'm happy to vacate my carbon footprint before I'm 100. The world is looking pretty nuts to me about now, and, even though my body could be preserved through a pharmaceutical, mechanical or transplanted miracle, there's no way my mind could accept much more of the upheaval our culture undergoes every 20 years or so.

Parrots, redwood trees and bristlecone pine trees were given naturally long life spans, but they don't have to deal with pop culture and the media. Hip-hop music and one more article about Paris Hilton would be enough for me to pull the plug -- to say nothing of the shredding of our Constitution and the terror of power-mad leaders globally. I'm not sure how a person's mind could ever span 150 years of culture, including all the internal adjustments needed to assimilate the changes. I know for sure I won't find out.

Day Eight - 30 Creative Days Hath November

2007-11-08T07:00:00.000-08:00

'tis The Season Already

When they finally finish the Human Genome Project and all of our genes have been mapped, named, catalogued, labeled and filed for reference, I know they're going to discover one they'll name "SH 01" -- the shopping gene. The reason I know this is I definitely do NOT have it. It must be located around the same strand of DNA as the herd or flock gene, because I don't have that one, either.

As Joni Mitchell sings, "It's coming on Christmas - they're cutting down trees - they're putting up reindeer..." which in truth means the beginning of Christmas shopping...and of course means the absolute impossibility of buying anything that isn't related to Christmas...like a witch hat or black cauldron for a Harry Potter party.

I do realize that Halloween was seven whole days ago, and I do know all about just-in-time inventory and the need to maximize retail shelf space to grab every consumer dollar, blah, blah, blah. I also know that with the advent of the megastores, there's no such thing as a dusty back room where merchandise that was popular a mere week ago can still be found.

Retailers have become ridiculous in their frantic anticipation of each holiday. Who can possibly be in the mood for Halloween stuff over the Labor Day weekend? You can bet that you'll see Valentine cards on the shelves by January 2nd and Easter candy on February 15th.

I have no idea where seasonal stuff now goes post-season. Probably with the lost socks, keys and earrings of the world -- into some black hole or 12th dimension physicists haven't yet discovered.

Am I the only person who has ever needed a witch hat the week after Halloween?

Come to think of it, I seem to spend a whole lot of time trying to find things that have their own unique sales period and which then vanish from the material world afterwards... things like a swimsuit in January or cozy bedroom slippers in July.

I've thought for years that a chain named "Procrastinations" would be a good idea -- a place where you could go and actually find a sweater in mid-summer or a beach bag before Easter. Even living on the California coast (where you really NEED a sweater in the summer and have some of the warmest, beachiest days in March,) it's impossible to find items considered by Midwestern chain store marketers to be seasonal.

I'm old enough to remember the home-grown hardware stores, the independent department stores, the "drug stores" with the real soda fountain and no music overhead -- those institutions that have gone to their collective grave, buried by you-know-who and here-comes-what.

I remember the grownup clerks who actually worked in one store for longer than a Christmas season, knew where to find stuff, counted change into your hand the old-fashioned way and actually said "thank you" to a customer. I'm sure one of THEM would have offered to look in their spidery cellar for a witch hat and cauldron a week after Halloween, instead of flashing their employee badge at me and saying, "it's my first day, I dunno." Good old Mabel or Harvey probably would have found them, too.

We're paying $3.48/gallon here now for regular gas, ($3.65 for premium) -- and at those prices and with all the aggravation that Christmas shopping causes a genetically-challenged non-shopper, I'm pretty sure I'm going to get to know my UPS guy very well this season.

Days Six and Seven - 30 Creative Days Hath November

2007-11-07T08:25:00.000-08:00

Grandmothering 101

OK, despite my intention to post every day in November, I missed posting yesterday. Shoot me. Mom always said "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all..," which is exactly what I said/wrote yesterday. My muse -- old, decrepit, shopworn and tired as it is -- apparently resists being held to any kind of discipline and simply vanished.

Although, to be fair, La Muse has been working quite late into the night, but not on El Blog.

I'm planning three grandchildren's parties for the coming weeks, which is almost the total of my socializing for an entire year. This weekend I'll host an elaborate, elegant tea party and sleepover for three of my granddaughters (I have a two-year grace period before the baby joins us...), next weekend is a Harry Potter Feast, Game Fest and Film Festival with my grandson, and a month from today we'll have our annual kids' Christmas party, complete with a nativity play I write each year.

It's been another time of making Lists, ebay shopping for props, prizes and Pottermania, Googling for games and activities, and spending hours making princess garlands and jewelry, creating and printing invitations, treasure maps and clues, menus and parchment scrolls.

I never knew my any of my own grandparents, and I'm not one of those natural grandmotherly, gingerbread cookie-type of children lovers, at least for their first five years or so. (The noise! The crying! The explaining! The noise!)

There aren't many resources available to teach someone "how to be" a good grandma, either... you pretty much have to figure it out on your own, which is difficult when you have no warm, cuddly memories from the perfect role model.

I do love to give gifts, though, and thank God kids' affection can be easily bought. I'm sure when they're adults, all my grandkids will have those warm, cuddly memories of their OTHER grandmas...but they'll remember me like Santa, with a bulky bag of presents over my shoulder. I just hope no one tells them about the Xanax and ear plugs...

One more thing... if you have five minutes to be awed and overwhelmed by a truly gifted muse and glorious writing, check out Jill's blog today, Up In Alaska. You'll be glad you did, I promise.

Day Five - 30 Creative Days Hath November

2007-11-05T08:20:00.000-08:00

The Ubiquitous List

Writing every day for a month, as I vowed to do in typical Aries enthusiasm, (which always lasts about a quarter of the time promised,) is more difficult than I expected. I usually mull things over in my mind a few days before actually writing -- and then I rewrite and edit and rewrite again and again before I post... which makes it a lengthy process and all-consuming, since I can no longer multi-task.

I'm not sure where those daily bloggers get their inspiration or energy...maybe it's why so many thousands of them are filled with mindless trivia. Still, there are two on my "necessary blog" list below who manage to write purposeful and beautiful essays every day...and they have my admiration and envy this morning (Jill from Up In Alaska, and Annie from writers and witches, and words, oh my!)

So, in the face of a dearth of inspiration and with a mind still befuddled by the time change, I'm resorting to another blogosphere gimmick and crutch, The List. These are some of the books I've read in the past months, most of which I've enjoyed, some which have astonished and delighted me, and a couple I regret buying. I'm probably missing a few since I pass many along to my Aries daughter-in-law Ann, who is a kindred spirit in reading material.

These are in no particular order, and I'm only commenting on a few of them -- but maybe you'll see something new that you'll like, too.

No Ordinary Time, Doris Kearns Goodwin (fabulous, particularly if FDR is your hero, too)
Lyndon Johnson And The American Dream, Doris Kearns Goodwin
My Day, Eleanor Roosevelt
The Autobiography of Eleanor Roosevelt
White Teeth, Zadie Smith (didn't finish -- couldn't get into it)
The Secret, Rhonda Byrne (this one gets a whole blog post soon)
The Memory Keeper's Daughter, Kim Edwards
The Secrets of a Fire King, Kim Edwards (best collection of short stories I've ever read)
Burning Bright, Tracy Chevalier (disappointing, compared to her earlier books)
The Magician's Assistant, Ann Patchett
The Patron Saint of Liars, Ann Patchett (in transit from Amazon)
The Poisonwood Bible, Barbara Kingsolver (in transit)
The Fabric Of The Cosmos, Brian Greene
Eleanor of Aquitaine, Alison Weir (a re-read -- and one of the reasons for my 2006 trip to the Queen's tomb at Fontevraud in the Loire Valley)
The Time Traveler's Wife, Audrey Niffenegger
Fall On Your Knees, Ann-Marie MacDonald
The House of the Spirits, Isabel Allende
Daughter Of Fortune, Isabel Allende
Eva Luna, Isabel Allende
The Infinite Plan, Isabel Allende (in progress)
A Lifetime of Secrets, Frank Warren (on its way to me from Amazon)
The Road, Cormac McCarthy (many loved it - I HATED every word)
Bias, Bernard Goldberg
Paris Inside Out, 7th, David Applefield
and of course, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, J.K. Rowling (beyond fabulous)

Looks to me like I should stay off of Amazon's website............

Day Four - 30 Creative Days Hath November

2007-11-04T09:15:00.000-08:00

Food For The Poor -- Food For The Soul

This time of year, especially, our mailboxes and emailboxes fill with requests from a thousand and one charities, all heart-rending, all worthy, all bringing their unique opportunities (and guilt) with them. We all have our favorites and (presumably) budget a portion of our income for at least some annual donations.

Last year our parish hosted a speaker from Food For The Poor, and I've never before been so touched and so compelled to donate as I was by this man, who is also a personal friend of the pastor. He is one of the founders of this organization and continues to live among the people he serves in the Caribbean area and Latin America, and his stories of the level of poverty and need were quite literally unbelievable... but, unfortunately, documented and true.

Compared to any third world country, and even to other industrialized nations, our standard of living in America is also unbelievable. We live in a culture and economy dedicated to serving our wants, not our needs. Our collective mantra is "more, more, more" and we are determined to fulfill that mantra as one of our inalienable rights. To be sure, some of us have smaller pieces of the possessions pie than others, but by any measure we all have way too much of everything.

With Halloween behind us, we've begun that rush down the holiday roller coaster when American consumerism peaks in a frenzy of schlepping, shopping and shipping. It's a boon to our economy, of course, with its infusion of over 100 billion dollars, and it's also part of the magic of Christmas. I believe in that magic, as American Express, MasterCard and Santa will attest to.

Still, I can't ignore the contrast between our obscene, convulsive, compulsive spending and the thousands of people a few hundred miles from our own shores who live without even clean water to drink.

They don't know it yet, but at our annual "Grandma's Christmas Party," one gift my grandkids will be taking home is a certificate that a donation to Food For The Poor will be made in their name -- equal in value to what Grandma has spent on them. They may not understand completely, but it will help to quiet that whisper in my mind.

Food For The Poor is the second largest international charity in the US and one of the highest-rated charities in the world, with 96% of their proceeds going directly to serving the poor. HERE is a link to their website, HERE is a statement of their finances, HERE are their endorsements and ratings, and HERE is their Christmas giving catalog. HERE is also a link for assistance for the victims of hurricane Dean that recently devastated the precise area FFTP serves.

I guess you can count this posting as one more appeal in your emailbox for charity.
Thanks for reading today.

Day Three - 30 Creative Days Hath November

2007-11-03T07:00:00.000-07:00

Gridlock Cometh, Film At 11

I knew better, I really did, but a Halloween demon possessed me last Saturday morning and shoved me out into the world to run errands.

Good grief, good God and holy moly!

In THIS post, I mentioned some of the incredible growth that my Northern California town has experienced in the past ten years, making it in 2005 the fastest growing city in the U.S. That growth hasn't stopped -- in fact, about a quarter mile from my home is an immense new subdivision which will add X number of homes and yet another huge shopping center.

To compound the misery, a mega-mall with 1.3 million square feet of retail shopping, has been in the works a couple of miles beyond the current project. EEEEK!

(I just spent an hour trying to quantify X above and failed, although I did find a fascinating article on the city's web site about beavers in the water drainage system. Whatever X equals is a whole lot...thousands of homes, and the shopping center will be immense. )

I have no room to complain about this growth since I too moved here into a new development that had transformed agricultural land into tract homes.

Oh wait...I forgot. It's my blog... I can complain.

This town sits at the bottom of the commute food chain, served by two major freeways -- neither of which has been expanded to accomodate the three zillion daily commuters who need to drive the 25 miles to and from the city. If you're forced to travel in commute direction morning and evening, you'd better pee before you get in your car and you'd better have a snack or two handy 'cause you'll only be inching along, nose to tail, for all of those 25 miles. Gridlock isn't an exaggeration - it's an irritating and worsening reality along the corridor.

Equally as bad, the town itself is served by only two major boulevards, conveying people who live THERE to THESE shopping centers, and those who live HERE to THOSE shopping centers. Apparently in California there's some unspoken rule against shopping closer than five miles to your home. Part two of that rule is that all families must run weekly errands on Saturday, between ten and four o'clock.

According to the confusing public information regarding the new development near me, there won't be any additional boulevards added. Those X number of houses with their 4.5 residents and 2.5 cars each will just have to squeeze into the existing roads and clogged freeways.

Which brings me to my point.... Saturday, at exactly 12:22 p.m., we officially reached absolute gridlock IN TOWN.

I sat for at least 15 minutes at the outlet of a shopping center, trying to merge onto one of those packed boulevards. By the time the lights changed to allow a new direction of traffic flow, there were so many cars stacked up waiting that nothing flowed. It was intersection constipation that no asphalt X-Lax could solve... and don't underestimate those 15 minutes... traffic minutes are measured like dog years and I got a lot older sitting there.

I think I witnessed a watershed point, I really do. The straw that broke the camel's back, the drop of water that burst the dam, the final piece of the puzzle slipping into...pick your analogy. We've been teetering on the edge of exceeding street capacity for months, and today was THE day -- and that's while the X number of houses nearby are only in the framing stage and the shopping center has yet to rise.

I know that with all the government regulations and EPA requirements lengthy and expensive traffic studies must have been done -- so would this juggernaut have been anticipated and judged to be acceptable? No one performing those studies or voting on projects has to go to Target on Saturday or fill up their car with $3.28/gallon gas? Gridlock is an option that was approved by development councils and other mucky-mucks?

It would certainly seem so. How else can you take 50 square miles and cram them with houses, people, cars, taco and pizza palaces, electronics stores and gas stations and not prepare for the traffic they'll bring?

I guess that question has a multiple-choice answer:
A) Gridlock is acceptable. Tough shit, residents.
B) Growth without limits is good, full steam ahead and damn the consequences.
C) It won't happen - a miracle will occur first (aka the ostrich approach).
D) All of the above.

Day Two - 30 Creative Days Hath November

2007-11-02T07:00:00.001-07:00

I took my camera with me on my nightly walk and found a few good shots, although I skipped the smashed pumpkins in the street (which always give me a perverse thrill, and I don't know why), the two-foot spiders wrapped in cotton webs on porches, and the shiny skull lights, flashing on and off, that bordered a walkway. The trappings of Halloween can be truly creepy -- creepier still the older and closer to death one is.

At the same time, Halloween has become more childlike and innocent -- the sphere now of the third-grader who delights in wearing an elaborate costume and, for a week or two, is allowed a bit of candy as long as the toothbrush is close by. In affluent America, the day itself has been scrubbed clean of tricks and only chocolate largesse remains.

As a kid in Reno, we trick-or-treated two nights -- Halloween Eve and the day itself -- and there were tricks aplenty for the grumps who didn't hand out candy. Today it would probably be called "malicious mischief," authorities would be called and the media alerted. Back then it was just (and expected) retribution for flouting tradition and/or being cheap. There was none of this sissy "if the porch light's not on, we're not handing out candy" stuff, either. You either gave it up -- or knew you'd be cleaning something the next morning.

Along with our hot, rubber masks, pillow cases for candy and flashlights, we always brought chalk and soap for screen doors and car windows, and didn't hesitate to use them, either -- when we weren't overturning metal trash cans and running for our lives, or throwing eggs at fences (and each other).

Of course, no adults accompanied us then (life was not as serious, danger not as imminent) so there was nothing to stop the tricks except our own conscience -- which was suspended for one wicked dark night of the year.

Together with the scent of leaves piled knee high and the icy bite of autumn winds, Halloween is indelibly linked in my mind with my first exposure to the word fuck, as in "fuck a duck" that naughty JoAnn scrawled on the window of a car as payback. I puzzled about that phrase and asked my mom later, who told me "there's no such word."

Okay, mom....(naughty JoAnn set me straight).

Day One - 30 Creative Days Hath November

2007-11-01T07:00:00.000-07:00

"November" Tanka/Haiga

(Click for larger image)

30 Creative Days Hath November

2007-10-27T13:17:00.000-07:00

Several of the blogs I read (and those they link to) center around graphic arts, illustrations, painting, photos, etc. To recharge their creativity, these artists often set a personal goal to work in their field at least a bit every day for an entire month -- no artistic blocks allowed, no excuses, no procrastination...just a soupcon of creative productivity every day.

Following their excellent example and to get my muse off it's lazy, contented fanny, I'm going to be writing SOMETHING here every day in November -- probably not my usual long, pontificating harangues, but something.

When I started this blog I didn't want it to become a reflection of my personal life (as so many thousands and thousands of "I washed out my socks last night" blogs are), but rather a broader forum on cultural and political issues from my viewpoint. For this one month I may break that rule and see if there's anything "inside" to write about, rather than always commenting on all of the "outside" stuff.

November, with its rainy, windy, dark and dreary, while I ponder, weak and weary, walking-on-the-moors alone, mood-provoking days, was always a fruitful month for my younger writer's brain... we'll see if that holds true now that the ancient brain is phasing into atrophy.

For those of you who are kind enough to read this blog when I send an email reminder, I'm not going to bother you with all that mail in November -- if you feel like it, check in and see if I've held to my vow... and thanks, as always, for taking the time to read.

I LOVE PARIS!! Photo Friday, 10/26/08

2007-10-26T09:03:00.000-07:00

I LOVE PARIS!

The Big Secret Of Life

2007-10-21T17:55:00.000-07:00

There's a day in seventh grade when male teachers take the boys aside and teach them how to spit, and female teachers give the girls their secret lesson -- how to change the toilet paper roll. These aren't the first Secrets of Life we learn, but they're right up there in importance.

Never once in my long life have I ever had the urge (nor do I have the skill) to spit on the sidewalk, the grass, the tarmac, the ball field, the church steps, the picnic grounds, out the car window, or the other ten thousand places ALL males choose to rid their mouths of (what IS that?) bodily fluid.

And, seriously, never have I lived with any male who knew how to exchange the little naked cardboard cylinder for a snow-white, squishy roll of fresh paper.

It's only partly genetic, however -- the other part is that males and females are consciously taught different life secrets. Pardon me while I indulge in a few gender generalities and stereotypes.

Map reading........ definitely a male secret, possibly genetically linked to the Y-dominant spatial logic gene, but also taught by fathers everywhere, along with the skill of folding the damn thing.
Identifying and fixing "that noise" in a car's motor..... also a male secret, one I suspect linked to the mechanical complexity of peeing while holding "it," and, again, fathers teach this.... my kids learned when their dad put Cheerios in the toilet as targets. It worked.
Putting down the toilet seat. Never taught, thus never learned by males.
Knowing how to talk to insurance, auto, appliance and small-electronics salespeople.... yet again, male...most likely linked to the Y-dominant bullshit gene but modeled by good dads everywhere.
Decoding the organizations of NASCAR, NHRA, IHRA, SCCA, SCTA, ICSCC, UMRA, QMA...and all the rest of the alphabet soup of auto racing... oh so absolutely male. Women may be interested in the cute butts accented by driving suits, but it takes a male to want to power up the lawn sprinkler and race his neighbors. Trust me on this one.
Likewise, learning how to find 75% off sales on makeup, shoes, handbags, jewelry and clothes of any sort .... well, duh...most little girls learn this stuff by the time they're four... from Mom.

You get the picture...we're taught life secrets in our early years -- and those secrets are reinforced by skills and patterns of behavior we learn the rest of our lives.

But wait. There's one secret we're NEVER taught...we have to learn it on our own, and some never seem to figure it out.

While our skin may shrink, shrivel and wrinkle like an old apple, while our joints may creak and freeze up like the Tin Man...while our memory sputters and sparks feebly so we can't find the precise...you know, dammit, what is that WORD we're searching for...while the hip hop music in the car next to us makes us wish road rage were an Oscar-winning event -- we never really age on the inside. Like our joints, our own perception of ourselves and our relationship to the world freezes at a particular decade...or even year.

You know I'm right. Do YOU feel your chronological age? Or do you feel frozen about 20 or even 30 years ago? My money's on the latter.

This is how a gaggle of senior women giggle like teens, go "shopping with the girls," still take dancing, art and water aerobics lessons, flirt with waiters their great-grandson's age... and enjoy the hell out of life. Their inside orientation hasn't advanced with their outward appearance...not one bit. I'm reasonably sure that the image shown by every mirror used by a mature woman is closer to that of 35 than her true age. Even though their eyes may be filmed with cataracts and clouded by those annoying little floaters, their vision wouldn't dare show anything but perky, ripe breasts, tight bubble butts and slim legs free of purple squiggles -- after all, that's their internal reality...it's how they FEEL.

It's also how portly, balding, farty gentlemen, with nose and ear hair, bad breath and loose dentures, still openly lust after hot women and place ads on respectable dating services (and Craig'sList) exclusively for "trim, fit, active, sexy, sensual" companions -- as if they themselves are the very essence of virility, the choicest catch of the century....which maybe they were 40 years ago. Their self-image, fueled by fading memory and stale testosterone, tells them it's still their prerogative to choose the most luscious babe (who would, of course, consider it only if a large portfolio were involved.)

I'm not sure why no one tells us this particular secret when we're young. It would be comforting to know that even as the outer shell disintegrates, the inner meat stays juicy... that there really is life after 40 or 50 -- or, for all I know -- after 60 or 70 or 80.

Maybe the signs are there early on, though -- signs that we just don't recognize. Maybe this condition is the source of the intense embarrassment parents cause their teens when they (parents) act younger than their kids. I certainly remember being frequently humiliated by my mother, who was far too friendly and flirty with my high school boyfriends, and wondering when, if ever, she would "grow up." Come to think of it, she never did.

Maybe this "age dysphoria" is also the source of the rich and fulfilling relationships that exist between adult children and their parents -- at last they meet in middle ground when everyone is about 35 mentally. It could also account for the unique relationship between grandparent and grandchild. Once the responsibility and authority factors have been one generation removed, it can be great fun to be free enough to play with children, who always seem to respond to the one adult in their lives who isn't full of behavior rules and schedules.

I will offer a disclaimer on this theory, though -- I'm not at all sure any of it applies to anything to do with pop culture or interactions with young people between 17-25.

Even as we morph into fossils of a particular age, we also seem to settle in to the culture of that time and become hopelessly nostalgic for that period. I may squirm when I see the old rockers groaning and sweating on stage at their "reunion" concerts, but I understand the appeal....there hasn't been any decent pop music since the mid-80's. Who ARE these weirdly-named, electronically enhanced, blue-haired, naked, perverted, pierced entertainer babies? I won't even go into the gangsta and hip hop stuff -- it's more foreign to me than a Parisian taxi driver.

So much of our current American culture seems literally foreign to me. For instance, I am admitting here that I am a text virgin.... not once, not even close. Hell, I don't even know how to access the phone numbers I laboriously stored in my cell phone one day at the dentist's office (no magazines). Computers I can manage since IT was my former profession, but anything smaller than a regular keyboard freaks me out. (Well, I do have an MP3 player, but I also carry the operating instructions on a tiny piece of paper.)

What's worse... I don't want to be part of the pop culture. It's loud, it's rude, it's irritating, it's very in-your-face, it's...much too young. And as for dealing with anyone between the ages of 17-25, well, they're loud, they're rude, they're irritating, they're in-my-face and way too young.

I stand by my theory in all other cases, though. Having worked my way through three careers, I still find myself wondering what I'll be when I grow up...what other pursuit will draw my interest and tap my energy. My head still twitches when some young twit calls me "ma'am" in the grocery store, and it's certainly not the men my age who look yummy to me. As for my mirror... it must be a Halloween trick showing me THAT person instead of the real INSIDE me.

Think about it... and the next time you see a little old lady at church with her rheumy gaze fixed on eternity, her polka-dotted hands folded quietly in her lap, wispy white hair tucked under a hat that belongs at a garage sale and shoes that would make a 1950's nun envious... know that it's not God she's dreaming about -- it's those racers' butts at Daytona. It's Life's biggest secret and inside joke.

Blog Action Day - The Environment

2007-10-15T07:00:00.000-07:00

Today is "Blog Action Day," where 23,327 good little bloggers have pledged to unite and write about a single subject -- this inaugural year's topic being The Environment.

From the list of resources distributed by the BAD organizers, it's very clear that there is only one valid viewpoint regarding The Environment, even though we have been encouraged to write whatever we please. One of those resources is The Nature Conservancy's "Carbon Calculator" found HERE. I took this test and really, if I were at all conscientious, I'd just cut my wrists now and free the world of 19 annual tons of carbon dioxide (although, I'm not sure what the impact is of a decomposing body...) I tested that test and found it was my two airline flights this year that had the most deleterious effect. Hmmm...I wonder how all the "green" politicians will make up for their big, fat carbon footprints during the next year of campaigning. I wonder how all these "green" activists salve their collective conscience when they attend 937 conferences during the year. Maybe they all walk to their destinations... yeah, that's it.

Honestly, I'm not cynical about The Environment -- but I'm working up a little cynicism about environmental activists and the party line we are all expected to follow. For as many scientists who have jumped on the global warming bandwagon, there are nearly as many who have yet to commit to the premise that climate change is all due to human intervention. There have even been instances reported of discrimination and intimidation toward scientists who controvert the "inconvenient truths." See HERE, and HERE. Yet, in the interest of fairness, HERE is an article claiming intimidation by the government in the opposite direction.

I am a science documentary film junkie -- they account for approximately 87.2 % of my television viewing. What I've recently noticed, however, is how insidiously supposition, fantasy and fiction are woven into the "science" of many of these films. The phrases "may," "might," "it's possible," "if," "we think" and "theory" abound, quietly and carefully laced within the narratives behind the elegant animation and photos. You really have to listen carefully to determine actual fact from entertaining possibility. The weight of our scientific knowledge is surely great -- but it's barely measurable against what we do not know.

The complexities of our atmosphere and climate, with all their interdependent factors, are among the "unknowns" in science. We know a little bit of this, a little bit of that...but, Nobel Prize aside, the real inconvenient truth remains we simply do not have the complete picture on this (or any) subject. If you doubt that statement, see what undisputed facts (not theories) you can find about the sun and sun spots and their effects on our atmosphere...and that's just a starter.

One of the benefits of aging is the perspective that the accumulation of years and experience brings. I, too, rallied around The Environmental Movement in the 70's. I've been a member of a few then-radical, now respectable, groups and I've voted strongly for Environmental Causes. Although I refuse to wear Birkenstocks or tend a compost heap, I make the most responsible choices possible these days. It is slightly hilarious to me, however, watching the current crop of greenies march in manic lockstep toward a common goal even as the science behind that goal is suspect and undeveloped.

My Green Pitch For Blog Action Day

To a casual observer, life in Europe seems much more supportive of Green Goals than our American culture. Maybe it's due to their limited real estate, maybe it's been the lack of excessive individual wealth or the innovative, pioneering American spirit, but they seem to me to have chosen the better way in many arenas, which can also correlate to living more environmentally responsibly. Where our culture embraces the LARGE in everything from homes to vehicles to lifestyles to food portions and (regrettably) backsides, those cities I've seen in Europe and the UK, and their people, seem to be satisfied with more modest and reasonable choices. Of course, one of the reasons their greenhouse emissions are lower is their use of nuclear power to generate energy...which is another whole conversation.

One obvious positive difference, though, is mass transportation, which is a fact of daily life in Europe. While public transportation usage appears to be slightly on the rise in the U.S., Wikipedia tells me that 97% of all passenger trips are still made by individual automobile. That independence, that freedom is so much a part of our own culture, yet the price we pay is high, and questionable.

In my own metropolitan area of 3 million people and over 1000 square miles, we have light rail transit that runs, usually late, from nowhere to nowhere. It doesn't serve any of the colleges or the University and covers none of the choking commuter corridors. Would I personally use public transit if it were accessible, safe and easy? You betcha. Does it meet those criteria now? Nope. Are there plans for future improvements? Not in my lifetime.

I see this as one area that could be bravely tackled with the combination of bold vision and local, State and Federal funding -- along with the necessary change in culture that could be made once we became serious about this particular improvement. Would it solve every transportation dilemma? No, of course not -- particularly for families who are deep into activities and recreation. But would it help to solve our massive energy expenditures in commuting? Of course. If millions of people in Europe can live without a personal automobile (or two, three or four), we could adapt...if the infrastructure were in place.

I don't have any answers for alternative sources for energy, for global warming, for the decimation of rain forests. a growing water crisis or the other three hundred Environmental Causes to rally around. I acknowledge my guilt and participation in a decadent American culture that uses too many resources for a too luxurious life style, and I'm mildly pleased that my own carbon footprint (and what a weird-ass term that is) is relatively small.

I'm sure if you check the other 23,326 blogs, you'll find advice galore, so here's mine:
Recycle.
Buy goods with minimal packaging.
If you can afford it, buy organic foods.
Turn off the lights. Adjust the thermostat. Walk. Ride a bike.
Take a train... if you can find one.
Vote pro-environment when you have valid evidence to do so.
Donate to environmental charities if you feel inclined to do so (and today is a good day for that... HERE is a list of a few safe charities).
Do all the environmentally responsible things you know you should, and keep faith that they actually might make a difference.
The world in 100 years will not be the same as it is now, whether due to a natural cycle or through wanton human intervention. The one thing I'm certain of, however, is the indomitable human spirit's ability to adapt to inevitable change...but I also believe that the sky isn't falling. It really, really isn't.

Fly Airline Delight - Completely Customized for YOU

2007-10-04T16:00:00.000-07:00

The news today lists the sorry state of airline travel, although, to my mind, it doesn't go into nearly enough detail. "On time" grievances seem to be what the industry is tracked on -- well, and safety, of course -- but they've missed some of the more important issues from the traverler's viewpoint.

How about this for the perfect flight:

Select your seat size to fit your body, just as you do your jeans. "I need a 32 short, please, and my husband will need a 40 long." This would accommodate every ass and every leg length, as well as also apply to the size of the toilet facility. No one I know, or have ever known, can possibly do everything necessary for personal hygiene in a toilet area that size. And on flights lasting over four hours, could one of the attendants please attend to the state of the stall? By the time you land, the facilities are too disgusting to use. A shower would be nice, too. I've taken shorter journeys on trains that have had shower facilities. Wouldn't it be wonderful to arrive at your vacation destination actually smelling good? I'm sure the taxi drivers and hotel personnel would appreciate it.
Choose your meals when you book your flight, so you know exactly which antacid or H2 blocker to bring with you. "No, I don't want the congealed pasta this trip. I'd much prefer the mystery fish, slimy lettuce and tasteless dressing, please, and without the cold, hard roll. "
A breakfast snack before landing? "I'll pass on the salmonella burrito...maybe the stale croissant and fake butter instead."
If we book early enough we can already choose our seat location, but wouldn't it be lovely to have the spot tailored more to our likes and dislikes? "Please do not seat me near anyone under the age of 30, and I'd prefer the quieter section for introverts. No big-mouthed, big-haired gals from Big D with too much makeup, jangling jewelry and a terrible accent. No Gen-X executives who want to show me their iPods and iPhones and pictures of their iWives and iChildren." If you're traveling alone, astrological seating would work... fire signs matched with air signs, water and earth signs seated together. Bladder compatibility would be a great touch, too.
Drinks? Your choices now are limited to alcohol, canned soda, stale Evian, weak coffee and tea, lukewarm milk and plain ice. Why couldn't they have a little Starbuck's cart and serve something worth drinking...along with a side order of whatever sleeping pill works best for you?
Reading material in the seatback pockets? Forget "Sky Mall" and "Duty Free" and stuff the pocket full of those thick magazines that each weigh too much to carry on board, a real news magazine or two, or maybe something naughty that you're too embarrassed to buy yourself. And forget the sick bag... If I need to vomit, I'd rather do it on the rude flight attendant's shoes. Oh -- can't a gazillion dollar industry afford real pillows, instead of those engorged Q-Tips with the scratchy covers?
The 777 airplane has individual TV monitors for your viewing pleasure, but, alas, nothing pleasurable to view. There must have been 227 million videos produced by now... surely some computer geek somewhere can figure out how to store a decent-sized library of watchable videos on a plane that big. And, I'm not really sure why the "flight map" representation (which tracks the true position of the plane for the entire flight) has all the site descriptions labeled in Spanish. I wondered for awhile if I was actually on Cubano Airlines when I saw "Oceano Atlantico" and "Nuevo York" on the map. It would also be a tad more comforting if the tiny airplane graphic didn't look like it was headed nose down, directly INTO the ground at the destination airport.
It's ironic how the airline informational magazine reminds us of the dangers of DVT's during long flights, yet the pilot keeps the seat belt sign on the entire time so you can only creep into the aisles when your bladder is about to burst. Take out two more seats and install a small treadmill, for God's sake. A human being is not meant to spend 18 hours seated in one position, strapped down with no room for leg movement. It's not an unreasonable request, particularly since they have already alerted us to the danger.
Decide either by lottery or an additional fee which passenger gets to use the shared arm rest, and ditto for which passengers get to leap into the aisle and off the plane first. Those final five minutes after landing get ugly.
It costs roughly $8000 to fly to Europe in business class (with reclining chairs, plush blankets, better food and service). I think it would be reasonable if the airline accepted one child or another asset in lieu of the $8000.
And my last request... how about if all airline personnel realize that passengers are customers -- the people who actually pay real (and lots of) money for their tickets --which ultimately provides their paychecks. If the minimum-wage grocery bagger at the supermarket can make eye contact and generate a little friendly small talk, why can't the "professionals" on airplanes do at least that? The only time I've seen any real warmth has been the cheery farewell as passengers exit the aircraft. "Bye, now. Have a great day....Thanks for choosing Snotty Uncomfortable Airlines" (Translation: "Thank God we're on the ground and you're finally leaving the plane. You are scum, and it was way too much trouble to serve you. I hope this flight was late enough that you miss your next connection. Ta Ta!")

Jet Lag, Lag, Lag, Lag

2007-10-03T08:55:00.000-07:00

I'm not exactly sure just how to place my foot on this escalator that is my "normal life." A vacation, especially one that involves lonnnnng plane flights and the biologic chaos of many time zones, disorients and confuses, and I'm not quite ready to take that last sliding step back into reality. I have, in fact, spent the last two days in the land of JetLag, where jammies are the national uniform, 3:30 a.m. is the perfect time for tuna and noodles, and where there isn't enough Xanax to recover from the flight home.

Short version: The trip to Europe was completely fabulous... and flying completely sucks.

Longer version:
I found it so ironic that Monday's online news' lead story was of the unfortunate woman who died in custody after being a little too uppity about getting bumped from a flight. How easily that could have been me in either Miami or Dallas on Sunday.

International travel security and U.S. Customs make it almost impossible to get to a connecting flight unless you have at least a three-hour interval AND nothing unexpected encroaches on those hours. After a "security breach" in Miami delayed our flight for an hour, I raised a little ruckus about the five whole minutes I would have in Dallas to go from one concourse to its diagonal twin (at least a 20-minute walk), but the sweet voice of reason whispered in my ear to restrain myself and my demands... the demands were falling on deaf ears, anyway.

The TSA and the airlines themselves are perhaps the most rigid authoritative bodies we will encounter in our normal American lives. It's abundantly clear they're not kidding about their mission, and none of them offer any illusions that they are serving customers. Every passenger is clearly suspect, simply an inconvenient annoyance cluttering up their day. Southwest Airlines was recently profiled on CBS Sunday Morning for their legendary customer service...maybe they could loan a few mentors to American Airlines and the personnel at the Dallas and Miami terminals.

Enough bitching -- let's just say I won't be nominating anyone connected to aviation for employee of the month...and if you wondered where the power-mad characters from movies like "Cool Hand Luke" have gone... they are alive and well, working for the TSA in Miami.

Excepting one day where I ended up ass over teakettle, face down on the sidewalk in front of Carfax Tower, "The Centre of Oxford," our trip couldn't have been better. (The fall was the fault of an insidious, vicious map. Maps hate me and are clearly out to kill me. This map only managed to inflict several bruises and a possible broken toe, but I didn't let it ruin my day... I braved on at a snail's pace, and the foolish, feckless map ended up in the trash!)

Oxford, while beautiful and crammed full of history with a capital aitch, is also crammed with buses and traffic worthy of a much larger town. London is first and foremost a city -- not unlike New York or San Francisco (well, except for those thousand years of history and all that impeccable civility, of course). But Paris......ahhh, Paris!

I'm sure the crowds are as fierce, the traffic as crazy and the prices as high as in London, but in that setting, surrounded by all that tranquil beauty, who really cares? In fact, who even notices?

I'm going to deck the first person who asks me about the "rude French." We encountered only one grump (a late-night taxi driver) and everyone else was as friendly and helpful as we could have hoped for. Not speaking fluent French may be a tiny handicap, but everyone we met made a tremendous effort to communicate, and their "little bit of English" was almost always perfect. One fellow traveler at Charles de Gaulle airport even gave us a primer on using the automated ticket machines for the RER trains then personally shepherded us to the correct track -- he struggling with English, we lost in our primitive French, but connecting through his courtesy and charm.

Even in the midst of an urban area filled with 11 million people, about 2.5 million in Paris proper, there is an ambiance, a relaxation, even a peace that permeates each experience. Where life could be frantic, it's instead leisurely...somehow time is stretched, expanded, and the days seem long enough, deep enough to accommodate any possibility.

I'm not naive enough to think Europe and the UK have all the answers to modern living, but from my perspective they have made a few better choices than we have in some important areas, including lifestyle. I'm using my soapbox on "Blog Action Day," October 15th, to rant about these differences. For today, let's just say it's nice to be home AND I wish I were still in Paris...not an easy conflict to resolve.

The last item on my "to do for trip" list is to "get back to work." I guess I should.