This is a stick up

Bernard Madoff was arrested this week for ripping off untold numbers of investors in the amount of 50 billion dollars.

Wait now, let me repeat this: 50 BILLION dollars.

If a twenty year old with a drug habit and a hankerin for heroin holds up a liquor store for 50 bucks his ass lands in jail that VERY NIGHT. There is usually no one to pay his bond and he is not likely to have a well dressed attorney to reduce his bail terms. He gets no special treatment and can go to jail in a heartbeat.

So, if you are a white collared rich dude with an expensive attorney here is what you get for STEALING 50 BILLION dollars:

"Out on bail with a curfew, defendant must be remanded to his home between 7pm and 9 am. Passport is surrendered and defendant must wear anklet device".

Oh, wow, what a statement of the seriousness of the crime huh? What kind of a legal system do we have when someone can rob people, albeit rich people, of so much money and get some little lightweight slap on the hand?

I'm appalled, I'm just completely agog. It almost makes one want to go to law school just to level the playing field.

Okay now, I said almost.

But for real, 50 billion?

Of cigarettes and longing

It's Christmas time, and I want my mom. It's been over 18 years now, and the gut wrenching grief is long gone, but the ties that hold you to your mom never come undone, even in death. I was shopping last week, in a great mood, looking at some Christmas ribbons, when all of a sudden my mother's favorite Christmas song came on the store speakers. I instantly started sobbing in the middle of the aisle, I came completely unglued in the middle of the dollar store.

Christmas was cookie heaven at our house growing up. We didn't have money, but we had a lot of baked goods. We decorated cut out cookies so much my sister Nancy refers to that time as our "cookie sweat shop" period. We loved decorating them but there really can be too much of a good thing! After a few dozen ginger bread cookies made just so, we would just sprinkle on the glittering sparkles as fast as we could to get them done. But everyone loved my Mom's baking, and Christmas was the time when her talents really shined. Like making Hajji, everyone had to come at some point and taste my mother's baked goods.

What kind of solace is there for the deep, primal loss of your mother? What-that she's in heaven? Or that she's reached Nirvana? Or that she's in Purgatory working out her sins? Or that she's dust?

If I can take license for just a moment I would like to picture my mother in Heaven like this: She is wearing her turqoise polyester pant suit, letting her nails dry from just painting them cherry red. Her permed-up hair is sprayed up good and it has the artificial look of Clairol #5 Strawberry Blonde. She's sitting at a table with a cheap cigarette in one hand, and a beer in the other. Sitting next to her is her wild, untamed, chain-smoking, crazy ass sister Rosie who is borrowing a Vicodin and a beer from my mom and dealing out the cards for them to play KIngs in the Corner. They are in hog heaven, praising Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Halleluia and pass the ashtray! Both of them had childhood trauma's and a lifetime of addictions, but my mother had a heart of gold. I miss that heart.

That's it, that's all. Just that, although my heart is full and I am happier in my life than I have ever been, I still miss her. Always will I guess.

Purple Haze

Chicanery- I love the sound of this word, it sounds like a fun pink and black striped candy that you could buy at the candy counter in a movie theater, but the meaning is more like what you find on the floor of the theater after an all-day film fest.

This week we found out that Chicago politics are more corrupt than we even knew. The Governor was auctioning off the vacating senate seat of our president elect for payola, and wanted other perks as well. So many pundits are chiming in on this dung heap, it's hard to find anything else to say, but as I am rarely at a loss for words, I have some thoughts on the matter.

Why is it that so many times in various different settings, people lose themselves when they gain recognition and success? You see it in corporations, in school boards and especially in churches. The humble servant seeks to serve and before long he expects that all should serve him (or her). Are we destined to just have the most base and coniving of our species rise to places of power because the rest of us have no stomach for it? I'd like to think that there are those among us who, given the challenge, could overcome the temptation to morph into the egocentric goons that seem to occupy the highest seats.

I saw Ann Coulter on Fox News today. Her whole aura seems to be one of gloating, self righteousness. Her comments are snide and her world view is so negative, it's hard to imagine her being in any relationships with friends who would feel safe around her. I confess I would love to lock her in a room with Bill Mahr, the room would combust with their two egos in full throttle.

In the end I believe that Jimi Hendrix was right: "When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace."

I'm hoping with all my heart that Mr. Obama will raise the bar for our government, and our country as a whole. I want to aspire to be a better person for the higher good. I want to live in a country where we aren't all jaded about our leaders, where we feel that they are making decisions that will benefit the many, not just the few.

Am I naive? Perhaps, but I love the idea that we can all evolve, that life is an ever changing ball of wonder, and that the impossible can come still come true.

Now where did I put that screw driver?

This week in the news we heard that Heidi Stefanyshyn-Piper, one of the astronauts on the International Space Station, accidentally let her tool bag slip away while she was making a repair on the outside of the space station. I hate when that happens! The photo of this is priceless, actually pretty unreal. I kept thinking about this incident all week and now I'm just going to jot down some thoughts for your ponderation.

1). How can we manage to send people into space for months at a time and plan out each and every element, from oxygen delivery to waste mangaement, food and temperature control, and yet someone couldn't think to attach some velcro to the tool kit?

2) Why is it that the first time a tool kit goes missing it's the girl's fault? I hope she isn't blonde.

3) I think it's hilarious that at the moment the astronaut saw that the tool kit was floating away the NASA ground crew overheard her say "Oh Great!" If you drop your cell phone in a mud puddle it's "Oh Great" if you drop your bagel on the floor it's "Oh Great!" but come on people, if you drop a $100,000 tool kit in space in front of the entire world via satellite? There would have to be a seven second delay for what I would be saying.

Somehow this whole incident serves to make me step back and realize that we can plan our lives, we can set it up and have every detail lined up a certain way, but then life can just come along and BOOM, your tool kit is floating away. I feel that way sometimes when my stress level gets up to DEFCON 5. I feel my coping skills just floating away in space and as I try to slo-mo my way over to get them, they just slip further away. At that point I have learned that the best thing to do is hunker down and wait. Call the cavalry and let them know that there's been an incident and then make a new plan. Usually the waiting brings about renewed ideas and the stamina to implement them. Or, like the astronauts on the International Space Station, someone with their own tool kit can come along and help you.

Now all we have to do is be watchful. If you are walking a beautiful beach some night at sunset and you look up to see something hurling at you at the speed of light, I would say DUCK because a wrench coming full tilt from space is gonna leave a mark.

Time's up!

Rootin Tootin Vladimir Putin and Mayor Michael Boom Boom Bloomberg have lots in common. Both have delusions of grandeur that convince them that the world as we know it will collapse into ruin if they are not in power-again. To that end both are seeking to change the term limits laws in their prospective communities. Mayor Bloomberg succeeded last week, along with the city council, but it remains to be seen whether or not this will withstand the challenge it will certainly recieve.

What is interesting in both instances is what we see often in corporate America. People claw their way to the top and once they get a sip of the power, become addicted to the high and will do anything to keep it.

It is as ridiculous as it is narcisstic to think that they alone can lead their people. Term limits were enacted for very good reasons. Cronyism and corruption are the two that come to mind. I remember working for a company where I watched as the most ruthless and corrupt persons rose up in the ranks, feared by most and respected by none. They wielded their power like bludgeons and had no sense of the collective good.

Term limits are our way of saying that we know that power can corrupt, and that no one person is ever the only person who can lead. We need people in leadership positions both in and out of government who are going to lead with a sense of the collective good. This will only happen when competent people step forward and agree to serve. Good people who will not let the stench of the good ole boy network turn them away. Dedicated people who cannot be bought, and will not sell out.

Bloomberg and Putin, get a grip. You had your fiftteen minutes and your time's up. If you are so concerned about the future of your people, then stick around in an advisory position and continue to serve. Emphasis on serve.

I'm just saying . . .

Priceless!

Yes Virginia, there really is a Barack Obama!

Christmas came early last night and the celebration could be heard around the world. I'm usually not lost for words, but today I just want to say that I feel so hopeful for our future because of Barack Obama. There will be those who will be looking for his every mistake, and those who will be gloating at the enormity of his challenge. Let them simmer in their hate. Those of us who voted for this man have dared to dream of a time when our country can move beyond racial divides and rise to be the kind of nation where our similarities are celebrated and our differences mended. Today I am so grateful to live in a country where the people can decide who leads them, and we have chosen.

John McCain stepped down last night in a gracious and very dignified manner. He will no doubt be sought out in the new cabinet for his advice, as he so generously offered last night.

I pray that all those who so vehemently opposed our candidate will, in time come to respect him and embrace the him as our new president of the United States-Barack Obama. As Obama stated last night, it's not about him, it's about US.

Dear Stem, we hardly knew ye.

Today we honor all those brave young souls who died alone, in the bottom of a red biohazard bag, incinerated at the end of the month with legions of soiled utility towels and latex gloves. We honor their sacrifice, their bravery in the fight for the opportunity to become one single precious life whose sole purpose is to grow in the womb of a fertile, waiting, hopeful mother. So intent on bearing a child is she, that in the absence of God's actions, she takes it on herself to extract her own eggs and place them in the hands of a scientist. This medical shaman then impregnates that egg with spilled sperm from the potential mother's husband, whom she deeply loves and is committed to in the holy state of matrimony. After approximately three thousand dollars, a fertilized embryo may occur and we call this occurance "life". Make no mistake, these fertilized embryo's are not just some random tissue, replicating willy nilly in a dark, lonely laboratory. These embryo's are actual tiny children, with all the exact same cells and hallmarks as you or I, except that it can fit in a tiny petri dish. These children then are replicated in multiples, as it takes many attempts to finally get a firm implantation in the mother's hormonally enhanced uterus. Yes, God doesn't see fit to give her the proper hormones, so she seeks wisdom from her physician who pumps her full of chemicals in order to better her chances of having one of these multiple children decide to stay for a while.

What then remains of all the mulitples that have no purpose once the mother has finally reached her goal and becomes pregnant? These embryos are not some science experiment that can be discarded as so much trash, these cell groupings are living souls with the imprint of God himself.

If we truly believe this, then each and every embryo that is not implanted into the mother ought to have a proper funeral and a Christian burial. A respectful graveside service is the least that should be offered for these poor souls that have died, waiting for the mother who, in her hurry to run ahead and play God, has changed the rules once she has recieved the coveted prize, and then lo and behold-these embryos are now expendable. She goes home, flush with the knowledge that she is with child, and leaves the rest of the messy decisions about the disposal of the potential cell groupings to the doctors. Isn't that tidy?

What if, in the absence of finding a uterus to have them, these same embryos could find a home not in a uterus, but perhaps in the body of a seven year old boy with osteosarcoma? What kind of higher calling would that lend to an embryo who is otherwise slated for the trash bin? Would not a soul, with all the potential to become a human being, not then be offered the opportunity to become part of the healing of another young soul? This sacred symetry would be so life-giving that each embryo would know it has reached it's full potential in it's tiny lifespan.

John 15:13 "Greater love hath no man than this, that he would lay down his life for his friends."

I challenge anyone who is against the use of stem cells for the healing of another human soul to sit in the hospital room with a child with cancer. Not for an hour, or a day. Sit there day in and day out for a month. Watch that child being poked and prodded, bloated from steroids, bald from the medications and fighting to stay alive.

We have the opportunity to take what has already been created for other reasons, and grant life to an innocent victim of childhood illness. Shame on those who will not share the bounty of their fertile richness to save a dying child. Playing God is fine when you hit the jackpot yourself, owning up to the fact that you've denied that same life to others may be a bit harder to answer for when the roll is called up yonder.

We deserve better

I saw this ad posted on the Drudge Report today, and it immediately made me feel both sad and angry. Sad because this is the state of politics in the McCain campaign, and angry because there are many Americans who don't have the ability to process complex information and will derive their opinion of Barack Obama through these types of smear ads.

This ad shows that there is no depths too deep for Mr. McCain to go. Karl Rove must be so proud. Our country is so thirsty right now for a positive voice, so anxious about our financial crisis and downright eager to have someone lead with a steady hand, and this is all the McCain/Palin group can muster? It's disgraceful and nauseating to me that McCain can stand up with that big grin on his face, calling us all his 'friends" and then blatantly lie to us about the facts. It reminds me of the ice skater Nancy Kerrigan and the incident that occured in 1994. Ms. Kerrigan was ahead in competition and Tonya Harding saw her chances of a win waning. Because she couldn't win on her own merit, she had her husband club Nancy Kerrigan in the knee, causing a serious injury.

Barack Obama has been a tough competitor but he has never questioned John McCain's patriotism, and has never put John McCain's life in danger with rhetoric. The McCain/Palin team seems to have no shame in ramping up their crowds with hate and misinformation. If anything were to happen to Barack Obama from here till the election, hundreds of thousands of American citizens will hold John McCain personally responsible.

I hope with all my heart that on election day American's will choose the candidate who has the dignity and compassion to lead us in the coming four years. My choice will be Barack Obama.

Just an observation

Okay, I was listening to Governor Palin recently and her rabid list of frightening reasons we should be very afraid of Barack Obama. I'm sorry, but it seems so obvious to me that Sarah Palin is a vampire and electing her will insure that our country will all be in jeopardy of being attacked by this blood sucking beast. She is scary and besides, don't you see her doing that DOUBLE terrorist fist jab? See for yourself.

Shucks ya'll, I'm just sayin.

The reviews are in . . . .

Last night we saw the vice presidential contenders up close and personal-or did we? No, last night we were entertained by a series of monologues performed by Sarah Palin in what can only be reviewed as the "moose in the headlights" matinee.

Oh yes, the hair was pinned up and the lipstick was on, her high heels were cute and she winked at us along the way. Frequently looking to her notes she delivered her lines with the tenacity of a true thespian. (and by the way, she did choose to be a thespian!) She was all "shucks" and "gosh" giving shout outs to her homies who are, you know, all hockey moms and Joe six packs.

I give her credit, that was a lot of material to memorize and she did a gosh darn good job of it. But my friends (hee hee) we need more from a person who may end up leading our country than the ability to barf up the ingested talking points. We need intelligence, we need a person who isn't just reading the Cliff's notes in order to make intelligent small talk at a Washington dinner party.

Joe Biden, God bless him, did not bring the bloviator to the stage last night. He was thoughtful and sharp, he was intelligent and steady. Joe Biden could step into the highest office of this country in a heartbeat.

People want to say that no election is ever decided by the vice presidential pick, but come on people, just look at John McCain. He's stepping on a banana peel already. Do you really want someone to be president who is giving shout outs?

No way, no how, no McCain/Palin.

McCain - who is he professing to be now?

Now more than ever our country must take off the blinders and take a good hard look at things as they are, not as we wish them to be.

Today John McCain called for a suspension of both presidential campaigns in order to address the financial crisis. For the past week Senator McCain has been red faced and brutal in his attacks against the Wall Street perps who done us wrong. But wait, could all this fist pounding and histrionic rhetoric be a smoke screen for the truth: that John McCain IS one of those he is railing against?

Yes, my friends, Senator McCain has been at the helm of this big oversized Titanic for 26 years pointing it in the direction he wanted it to go, in order to make ridiculous sums of money for his fat cat friends in Wall Street. Now that it's hit the ice berg he's running down to the life rafts with the women and children, all the while berating the horrible brutes that were steering this lumbering mess.

John McCain is a wolf in sheeps clothing and the American public had better get their beer goggles off and take a good long look. He's the guy that mentions that he was a P.O.W. after every question, yet he sponsored legislation making water boarding and other torture techniques legal. He proposed legislation supporting de-regulation, and now he claims to be such a Maverick that he's angry at those who are in support of it.

He's a hot head, not a Maverick. He's a coward hiding behind the latest polls, not a hero. His latest stunt of postponing the debates I believe, is his desperate attempt to slow down the momentum of the Obama campaign and he will do any cheap stunt to make it happen.

McCain at one time seemed to be an individual, now he appears to be a right wing puppet who will do or say anything, true or not, in order to win the prize.

There is everything we are as a nation at stake in the election and I do not want a leader who is ill tempered and reactionary. Barack Obama leads with a calm, methodical approach, and isn't that what we need in anxious times like this?

This country is hungry for the kind of leadership we can be proud of again and it sure as hell isn't going to come from the right. As Democrats we are finally finding our voice and taking back our place at the table.

Oh yes we can, hell yes we can!

Time

This week I am celebrating my birthday; and with this comes reflection. There are things that with time, become more clear, and other things grow hazy around the edges.

This I know for sure:

Love really is all there is

Nothing is random

We create our world minute by minute

Also, shit happens

Then we still try to create our world, with the shit that just happened

Life is a series of proposals which we accept or turn down

Every single transaction in our day is an opportunity to learn

All beings are our teachers

Chocolate pudding is a healing substance for many of life's challenges

Prayer, chanting, singing, wishing, feeling, humming, art, and poetry all bring life into a higher vibration and it's good

Giving brings you an expanded heart

Children are like a fine wine, grandchildren like aged port

It's harder to take risks as we get older

It's exhilarating to be free of the expectations of youth

I'm less sure of many beliefs that I once held true, but more sure of who I am

I am not certain that I will ever know the sole purpose of why I am here, I'm not sure I even need to know. I do know that as I grow older I am more tender at the bone. That hard outer shell of youthful bravado has long been shed in the molting season and I see life with sharper focus now. Life, with all of it's heartache and brilliance is only sweet when shared. I am grateful to have so many in my life to share it with.

This blog entry is a big thank you to those in my life who teach me, love me, help me see, help me play. I hope to grow older with more of a sense of abandon, to stretch and grow and not be held back by fear or worse, by apathy or entropy. There are too many adventures still calling to just slow down.

Giddyup, carry on!

Coinage

Man, this is so funny I wish I had thought of it. There is a new term newly coined and it fits once you hear the explanation. The term: Slacktivists. Let me break it on down for you.

Slacktivists are people who are PASSIONATE about things going on in the world, they are frightened about the state of the economy, about the fate of the planet or the migration of the whales. They post blogs furiously opposing drilling, or fur wearing, or anyone who doesn't recycle every scrap of anything in their domain. They post blogs about it and discuss various hot new topics on Facebook or MySpace. Hot topics! High energy! Wordy diatribes!

But you know what? It's all words, no action! Hence: Slacktivists.

I just love it. So everyone who bitches about the current administration, but does absolutely NOTHING except talk about it and write about it, are slackers in activists clothing.

Real activists get out and DO things. They help register voters, make calls to legislators, volunteer in the community and most of all they VOTE.

I'm throwing down a challenge. If you really believe in change, are you doing anything to help bring it about, other than talk about it?

I'm just asking . . .

Nerdification

Okay, I looked at today's date and all I could think of is: 9/10 a big fat hen.

Carry on then!

Stations in Life

I have wanted for a few years to do an artists rendering of my life like the stations of the cross in a church. "THE FIRST GLORIOUS MYSTERY: Therese gets an ass whooping"

For so many years, really difficult years, I felt defined by my challenges. I thought they showed like a neon sign and I was embarrased by my station in life. I went for years without being able to afford nice clothes, a proper haircut or to even have my teeth cleaned. One Christmas a dear wonderful friend gave me a gift certificate to my dentist for Christmas. I almost cried, both for the thoughtfulness of it, and for the realization that I was so needy. I used food stamps for a while, stood in line for government cheese and day old vegetables. I felt so small, so vulnerable and yet . . .I imagined a time when I would rise up. I imagined a time when, instead of being on my hands and knees scrubbing someone's kitchen floor, I would have a job I felt proud of, making good money.

Today as I look back I can honestly say I am proudest of the fact that I scrubbed floors, cleaned toilets, mowed lawns. I did what I had to do, and I did it with gusto, I did not give up. Sometimes that is the only thing to do, keep going.

Today, I see my life as an interesting fairy tale. So many characters, so many interesting chapters and colorful twists and turns. I am my own fairy godmother, but I have others who help me along the way. Dear friends and family here and beyond. My personal guide behind the veil who I affectionately named Tony some years ago. My mom, now passed on 18 years.

As a girl of 16 I left the Catholic Church, much to my family's horror. Today, though I have no regrets about that decision, I am obsessed with religious memorabilia. Is it my mom, sweeping up behind me trying to trick me into going to church again? I think these iconic images are ingrained in us in some primordial way, at a cellular level we have these familiar archteypes that bubble up in our dreams, come out in our doodling. I am attracted to labrynths, great and small, crop circles and scared geometry-all of these beg to be noticed.

Perhaps all we really do here during our lifetime is find our way back to ourselves. Like Dorothy, we always know the way home, we just need to trust ourselves. Oh, and the shoes.

TV Blackout

Okay, it's quiet on the dark side of the planet. I am normally in high def dorkification during political highlights, but I have to admit here and now, that I did not watch Sarah Palin speak at the Koolaid fest Thursday night. I left the television off. Why? There isn't enough anti-nausea medication on the planet that would allow me to ingest all the putrid rhetoric that was set to be spewed. Can I comment on her speech? No, I cannot. I can only say this for anyone on the fence about this election: Our basic rights are in jeopardy here. A vote for McCain will set us back decades. Roe v Wade will be overturned and women will be dominated by men again about what they can do with their bodies.

There are those of us who still believe in individual rights. We will not go back, we will not ask for permission, and we sure as hell will not tolerate the misogyny that was the norm in bygone days. We stand on the shoulders of great men and women who have fought long and hard for women's rights. I will not stand by and watch that overturned by a group of war mongering, bible thumping zealots. My body, my decision. We would all do well to put all of our time, energy and finances toward the goal of getting Barack Obama elected as our next president. God help us all if it goes the other way.

Sorrow up close

I was at the University of Michigan Hospital today for an appointment. I made a visit to the ladies room when in walked two women, likely sisters, who looked to be in their mid sixties. They both were crying inconsolably. Just unabashed sobbing and heaving. They both proceeded to the double sink and began to splash water on their faces, but the tears wouldn't stop. They grabbed for paper toweling and attempted to dry their faces, but it was so pointless as the tears were coming from a deeply primal place. Their gutteral moaning as they sobbed was so wrenching to hear, and their tear stained faces, distorted with pain were a picture of sorrow. As they passed me trembling I muttered "I'm so sorry". One of them looked at me with a hollowness that telegraphed "You cannot imagine our agony" and then they left.

In my ridiculous ponderings of life and fairness and red rubber balls, I need to remind myself that pain is relative. We all get a turn, but by and large, I am still in the lucky group. My children, though two of the three have faced difficult physical challenges, are still here, and still vital and recovering. I am blessed, I am so blessed. All three of my children are darlings, total blessings in my life that I could never profess to deserve, and yet they were loaned to me during this lifetime. What a gift is that?

What can we do but to see life, with all of it's pain and sorrow, joy and happiness as a beautiful gift and savor it all?

Carpe Diem, I shall try. Each day, seize it, clutch it, grab it, shake it, kiss it, hug it, wring it out dry and then wear it as a mantle of honor.

Those women in the bathroom, God bless them for what ever horrible loss they were facing, whether loss of a person, loss of health, loss of what they thought their lives would be like, now altered. God bless these women with the strength to endure.

One woman I know who lost her son to cancer last year, recently told me that the grief after losing him is so difficult she merely asks herself every day just to breathe. That statement is so starkly honest, it gives me chills. Breathe, sometimes that's all we can do.

Today, and in the days ahead, I hope I can somehow communicate to those whose tears will not stop, whose agony is heard in their aching cries, that I see their pain and that I wish them comfort. To recognise those among us who are suffering, and be present with them as they try each day to breathe, is all we can really offer. I hope it's enough.

(please note that the photo is a stock image from the Internet)

Didn't the kettle send the memo to the pot?

Isn't it rich that Karl Rove is complaining about the Dems as they uncover more details about Sarah Palens life? Karl freaking Rove is calling somebody out on gossip and mud slinging? That is just straight up HILARIOUS!

There is a new term in the accepted American lexicon and it's called Rovian tactics. Yes, as in Karl Rove. It means to be dirty handed, covert, ruthless, heartless and did I say dirty? Karl Rove and his minions have savagely torn apart any and every person who they felt was ever a threat to their party. If you have any doubt, please go back and review the hearings regarding Valerie Plame Wilson. Her husband dared to disagree with the Bush White House and the hounds of hell were unleashed via Karl Rove.

Whether or not it's right or ethical to be dissecting Sarah Palen's family life is beside the point. The point is, Karl Rove made up the rules to this ruthless game of politics, and now he's in the referee's face trying to call a foul.

Karl, the Jerk Store called and they're all out of you!

On Jesus and Pie

I'm in a state of flux with my spirituality, and why not just lay it out there for anyone to see? There was a time in my life when I believed that there was black, and there was white. Life was simpler then, no thinking required. No ruminating over anything in life, it was all summed up in one big heaping helping of Jesus Jesus Jesus. Are ya saved? Praise Jesus! All sins washed away and on that glorious day when Jesus returns, we will all float up on gossamer wings singing "Nanny Nanny BooBoo, you should have gotten on the Jesus train suckers!"

Alas, I peed away all the Koolaid and got a nice clean drink of clarity, and as I climb back up the rabbit hole I am wondering what the hell is really going on. I believe in reincarnation, I do. But then I also miss the sweet feeling that when I die I will immediately fly up to heaven. Can I do both? Can't I fly up to Heaven while I'm waiting in line to come back here and do it again? I guess I believe but I am like that guy standing in line at Best Buy. He's got the big box in his hands, he is just about to get out his wallet when he thinks: "But what if a new upgraded one comes on the market tomorrow?" Is my ideology outdated, or just diluted? Am I so jaded that I can't just simply believe in God and leave it at that? You see, I feel like the Patriarhical influence on religon has made us believe that God is a really scary dude in the sky who throws red rubber balls at people at random. I want to believe that God is sometimes a man sometimes a woman, and always benevolent. Then that cynical part of me laughs, a real hearty belly laugh, and tells me I'm such a nut! God isn't even a real anything silly! God is not even real, just some stupid myth that we all have to reinforce with each other so we don't think our lives here on the planet are about nothing. It gives us meaning to run around dodging a red rubber ball. Yeah, no thanks to Joseph Campbell here, kill joy.

Now right about now you're wondering if I'm smoking something from a bong made out of a ceramic monkey skull right? Yeah, nope. Just wondering about the meaning of everything, as I am wont to do, and trying to make sense of things. Trying to figure out where to hedge my bets. I guess when it all shakes out I am betting on the fact that in some big old cosmic way, everything we do does really matter, and that someone, some thing larger than me is rooting for me, trying to give me hints along the way toward helping me create the best life possible. I've seen too much evidence in my own life and I know that all these signs can't just be random. Pie in the sky? Sure. It's the kind of pie I like though, so I'm good with it. What's your favorite pie?

Swing Low Sweet Chariot

Today marks the third anniversary of the Hurricane in New Oleans that swept in and devastated that community while the Bush administration watched on with apathy. Today, three years later, 80 unclaimed bodies were buried and given a solemn service replete with trumpeters. How can it be that in a city that size, 80 souls can go unclaimed? Were they no one's mother, aunt, brother or uncle? Were they homeless people that people walked by each day, recognized but never really seen? There were babies that were unclaimed, most likely they were swept away in the arms of their terrified mothers. Today I honor the tradgedy of the levy failures and I pray that in the future our government will rush to aid any victims of such a tragedy instead of standing by and watching as they float away to their watery graves. Heck of a job Brownie.

Hell Yes We Can!

Tonight was a monumental moment for us in the United States of America. Tonight we saw our nominee for the president of the United States, an African American, speak about our country in ways that we haven't heard in many years. He reminded us of who we are, and who we can become. He made us feel included and dared to use words like compassion and empathy. He made me believe again in an Amercia that can unite together to solve our problems that have become so ingrained during the last eight years. He called us to action, he called us to unity, and I pray to the God who holds the red rubber balls, that this man Barack Obama, will become our next president of these United States.

To Her With Love

Please enjoy watching me eat this slice of humble pie as I wholeheartedly applaud Senator Hillary Clinton's performance at the Convention last night. I was absolutely wowed and actually almost in tears as I heard her verbalize what all of us were hoping to hear. I give her major props for going above the call of duty on this speech. She could have grandstanded and made the speech about her, instead she lead the charge toward a better world. She is a true Democrat and I now have more respect for her than ever. If only everyone would put the petty bickering aside now and get our full energy around electing our nominee, we could win this. We MUST win this election or I fear that our country will be ground down to dust by the likes of McCain and his ilk. Thank you Senator Clinton for giving the most gracious speech I've ever heard. Your dignified presence last night is the true clarion call to anyone who hopes for a better future for our children and grand children. Excuse me now while I eat my pie . . .

Who Let the Dogs Out?

Anyone my age has heard the song "Big Rock Candy Mountain", even if you don't admit it. One of the lines of the song goes: "In big rock candy mountain, the cops have wooden legs. The bulldogs all have rubber teeth and the hens lay soft boiled eggs." Okay, this is a long boring way of leading me to my pet peeve (pun noted) with regards to the Clinton attack dog: aka-James Carville. I've always liked Mr. Carville, especially when he goes head to head with his wife on Sunday morning talk shows. He's all "Gosh and golly", but he knows his history and does not hold back with his opinons. Last night the Clintons' let the attack dog out of his cage and sent him on the dais to discuss the Convention with the likes of CNN. He was a bulldog with rubber teeth. He growled about the fact that the Convention was boring, he chastised Obama for not doing enough to make ammends with the Clintons and he practically blew a kiss to John McCain. I don't think James Carville will be happy until Barack Obama puts a towel over his arm and offers mint julips to the Clinton's on a silver tray. But guess what? It's a new day James. Your rubber teeth aren't leaving much of a mark anymore. Your whining and water carrying for the Clintons may bring you some brownie points with them, but it leaves us all feeling a bit sorry for you. Wake up dude, there's a new guy in town and he's the guy on the ticket, not Hillary. It only serves to divide the party and foment bitterness when you continue to grouse about what you lost. It's over man, get-over-it. Bare your teeth in the right direction-at the Right. We need you on our side Mr. Carville, but you can't have it both ways. Either step up to serve the Democratic Party with the nominee-Barack Obama, or go over to the dark side and stand watch as our country sinks further and further into the black hole that the Bush administration has created. James-Stay! Good boy!

The Bucket List

Okay so you've seen the movie, you know the drill. For me, it's been hard to even allow myself to even think of having a bucket list, as my life was pretty much about survival for a number of years. But in the last few years life has become easier, and I am able to dream about what I want the second half of my life to look like. I need to come up with more things, but one of them, learning to sail, is in the process. I had my second lesson today on the water, and I was amazed at how much easier it seemed. It was more familiar, and I wasn't as intimidated. Could it be that life is this way too? That as we approach obstacles, if we just push off headlong with sails up, we will find our way? As we tacked back and forth across the lake I saw more clearly that with sailing, you can never just get to your destination directly, but instead you are constantly criss crossing the water in order to make best use of the wind. I want to live with sails up. I want to remember when life seems tough, that the tacking back and forth is the way it's always been and I want to enjoy the scenery along the way as I go. I am trying to get the list together, and I would love to hear other's lists as well. I will share a couple of my items still left to do:

Kayak off Catlina Island with the migrating whales in February

Write a book

Become debt free

Reach my goal weight ( don't ask!) and maintain a healthy fitness level

Take a photography class

This week I will remind myself to live each day with sails up!

The Dating Debacle

I heard a woman interviewed today discussing the whole idea of dating late in life. She was pragmatic about it and when asked about the odds of finding your true soul mate after fifty she replied: "The odds are good, but the goods are odd!"

I just can't top that. And any of us who are treading water out here in the dating pool knows that this is the God's honest truth. Carry on.

The Ultimate Bully Pulpit

PRAYER REQUESTS:

Dear God,

I saw this box in the hallway of a hospital today and at first I thought it was a sweepstakes box. I thought if I filled out the form I might win a car, or at least maybe win a six month membership to the local fitness gym. But somehow this little round box covered in flowers, sitting on a lace tablecloth drew me in closer, and I saw that it said: Prayer Requests. Now you and I haven't been getting along lately, and you know very well why. You have a real funny way of throwing that big red rubber ball down here, and I am pretty tired of the welts my family and I are getting. And I'm tired of running back and forth trying not to get hit. What is it that you want anyway? You want me to just step up to the line and let you drive one full force right at my head like the bully's in elementary school? Sometimes I think you are a bully, or at the very least a sadist. I honestly don't give a shit that you are Omnipotent, you are a distant deity who hides behind a curtain of mystery and allows folks to stumble around in the dark, unable to find answers. That's a bit sick don't you think? Would it be too much to ask that you just spread the misery around a bit and quit picking on the same people? Aren't there rules about that somewhere? And I know full well that the old "What goes around, comes around" idiom is complete rubbish. So much of what I thought about you has turned out not to be true, I don't even know you anymore. I'm not even sure I want to see you anymore, I need to sort things out. You disapoint me, you let me down. I thought I could count on you and I see that it just isn't so. And lastly, you are a piss poor communicater. I do all the talking and you just sit there silent. Well, I did write you something, and I put it in the box. There were so many folded pieces of paper in that little box I could hardly stuff it in, so I hope you even read it. And, if you feel like throwing me a bone, you know where to find me. I'm stumbling around, trying to find my way, dodging the red rubber ball.

Ahoy there, it's my life!

I took a three hour sailing class today and it was both exhilirating as well as nerve racking. I didn't know a thing about boating, but just felt a pull to learn to sail. After a mini lesson in rigs and sails we were out on the water tacking, tumbling and cutting through the water in the quiet silence of the open lake. I am a novice to the bone and didn't grow up with boats of any kind. But it's the season of my life when my children are grown, my education is complete, my job is secure, but I am still longing to learn something new. I biffed more than once making my way back and forth across the boat; trying to get my hands and feet to learn to do something completely new. Every sense was awakened and alert as I tried to process WAY more information that I can possibly remember in one day. When we came ashore the instructor was very kind and asked if I would like to come back and do it again another day. His patience and clear directions were appreciated more than he knows. I'm a slow learner. I fall a lot. I ask a lot of questions, more than once. I need things repeated. I require a patient teacher. I don't know if I can master this sailing thing, but I was able to overcome my fear today and try something new. It's the trying that counts in my book, the risk taking. As I grow older I want to look for new adventures, not wait for them to come to me. It's a challenge because more and more it feels comfortable just staying in my comfort zone, curled up on the couch with a good book. I want to continue to ask more of myself, to challenge myself to learn new things, even if I tip it all over in the process.

"Don't mess with the bull son, you'll get the horns!" - The Breakfast Club

Yesterday I was traveling through the midwest countryside with my sister when we came upon a herd of cows that were particularly cute. Lately I have been compelled to photograph the things I find delightful or unusual. We stopped the car and I hopped out, talking to said cows as I approached the thin wire fence. They were wary, eyeing me with some trepidation. They moved closer to one another, huddling and staring at me as if they had never seen a humanoid before. The bull did not look at me directly but instead made a big show of stomping back his hind feet (hooves?) and directing the dust in my direction with a deep lowing sound. I didn't get it at first and was talking away to the ladies, snapping their pictures, asking them to pose for me. When I didn't get the hint the bull became very direct. He moved in front of his ladies and gave me a menacing look, then lifted up his head and bellowed! He stomped and bellowed again and I knew right then that if I didn't run to the car, that little wire fence might not be enough to keep me safe from the bull who was not amused by my photo session. I literally ran back up to the car and hopped in, laughing as we sped away.
Okay, so it wasn't Pamplona, but it was an interesting interaction and it reminds me of a life lesson that has been on my mind: setting boundaries with others. When there are people in our lives who have overstepped their welcome, it's okay to stomp a bit of dust in their direction to give them a clue. And if somehow those same folks don't get it at first, it's a good idea to speak up good and loud and make your intentions known. After that, if they don't get it, I say dig in, put your horns down and send them packin!
Bottom line: We teach people how to treat us, how close they can get, how much of us they can have and how long they can stay. If there are people still hanging around our lives covered in dust, we haven't yet learned to bellow.

Houston, the Ego has Landed!

Okay, this has been a bad week for two prominent women in politics. Both of them claimed that they were wronged, and the outcome is nothing short of breathtaking. Elizabeth Edwards, God love that woman! Her husband decides that during a year when he was putting his family through the grueling sacrifices needed to run a bid for the highest office in the land, to commit adultery with a younger single woman. After being outed by the National Enquiror, he finally had a come to Jesus interview with the very respectable Bob Woodruff. He beat his chest, he mea culpa'd and said all the right things, but guess what dude, you disgraced your family, peed all over your marriage vows and put a whole lot of energy into a sterotypical bimbo when you should have had your head in the game of politics. But what has your wife done? She looked at her life, and her kids and said "I decided to stay in the marriage because one day John will be the only parent they have." This my friends is a wise woman. She is giving her children a very big gift by moving past her husbands unspeakable selfishness, and being the best mother she can be. She knows that with her diagnosis she only has a finite amount of time to give to them, and she isn't wasting it on the emotional fallout that is the backwash of such narcissistic peccadillo's. Her pain of course is making headlines everywhere, and John Edwards should be held accountable for his actions, even if they include a child.
The second woman in the news, Senator Hillary Clinton, also still seems to be smarting from her loss. OH boo hoo, her legion of fans are still at the wailing wall, bitter with the unimaginable truth that their candidate lost. But you know what-she did. She lost. Get over it and move on for the love of God! This last few weeks the people who voted for Hillary have continued to speak up and make their needs known. They feel powerful, they feel like pushing the rest of the Democrats around, and now they want their candidate to have her name on the floor at the Convention. Hillary, being the sore loser that I believe she is, keeps claiming that there is nothing she can do about it. "Aw shucks, what can I do, they want to be heard!" You know what she could do if she had one ounce of class and really gave a rat's ass about the party? She could, in one speech, tell her followers how much she appreciates all that they did for her, and how much she feels loved by the adoration and attention. She could then, if she wanted to, ask them, each and every one of them, to show their support for her and her ideals by PUTTING THEIR FULL SUPPORT BEHIND BARACK OBAMA. But this is not what she's been doing. She's been virtually invisible since she lost and many have offered that she and Bill secretly hope Obama loses so that she will have a better chance of running in 2012. I'd like to be all dewy eyed and optimistic and say it isn't so, but the truth is pretty transparent, and both Bill and Hillary are letting their sychophantic fan base work as their surrogates to continue this psuedo election bid for Hillary. It's a disgusting show of arrogance on Senator Clinton's part, and any shred of respect I had for her is gone. She plays the helpless female in this whole issue, when in effect she has great power and chooses to keep it hidden so that maybe, just maybe something will happen at the eleventh hour and she will finally get her day in the sun. This is a lady that should take a lesson from Mrs. Edwards. You've got to know when to hold em, know when to fold em, know when to walk away, know when to run. Senator Clinton, the cards are all out, you're holding a losing hand and you need to fold em and walk away.

Oh Stanley!

This week the most Holy of Holies made it's way through our town. This chalice, with all of its rich history and sacred wonder, was displayed at the city's capitol rotunda. Hushed crowds numbering in the hundreds stood in line for hours just to catch a glimpse of this hallowed relic. The security guard whose job it is to transport and display this cup stood by with dignified grace, his hands ensconced in white cotton gloves, as no human hands should ever sully the revered chalice. Was this solemn group of worshipers a sea of Catholics waiting to venerate the holy cup of the Pope? No. This incredible display of reverence was all for the sake of the Stanley Cup, Hockey's version of the Holy Grail. One by one the trembling wide-eyed wannabees approached the cup and almost genuflected. Some kissed it; others were content to just touch the handle that had over the years been lifted by so many hockey greats. Tears of joy welled up and grown men were speechless in the presence of such a sacred icon.

The cup travels almost 300 days per year. Players in the past have had many experiences with it. Stories of it’s high jinks include letting a Kentucky Derby horse use it as a feedbag, having a baby photographed sitting in it, taking it to a strip club where all the patrons were allowed to drink from it, and reportedly Bryan Trottier said that he took the cup to bed with him. He was quoted as saying “I wanted to wake up and find it right beside me. I didn’t want to think I’d just dreamed of this happening.”

What is this magic that draws people out in droves just for a glimpse? Is it the idea that one can aspire to greatness with determination and perseverance? Or is it that this is one of the great sports where a player can legally bash his opponent up against the glass and crack a stick up the side of his head? No hushed tones as with golf, or the precision of the Olympic gymnasts. Hockey is balls out, racing for your life and taking no prisoners. It’s a gloves off, old school brawl at times, and I think that’s what we love about it. If a player can spit out a tooth and insult another players mother all while flying across the ice to stop a goal, the crowd will go nuts with the joy of it!

You've got to love this country where a woman can run for president and grown men can humble themselves at the sight of a sports trophy, all with the same enthusiasm and respect. Rock on Red Wings!

Soft Places to Fall

I spent this past weekend with a group of eleven women of all different backgrounds. All of us have met as a bookclub for about six years and besides meeting monthly, we also have an annual weekend away. This year we were at a cottage tucked away on a beautiful lake in northern Michigan and the beauty of it was more than just asthetic.
Laying awake on Friday night I listened to the sounds of the crickets singing and the swishing of the trees as they swayed in the night breeze. A single loon cried out as it flew over the lake, it's lonesome voice echoing along the shores. It felt magical.
Away from the hum of the city and the "to do" lists, we shared our lives and talked about our hopes and dreams. Matters of the heart and matters of health were all fair game, and there was no shortage of advice and laughter. We all agreed that if our kids could see us they would stand aghast at the sheer intensity of our "dork factor". But oh what a sweet place it is, to be in the presence of such friends. To bare your soul, or share a tear, to dare to hope, and admit to fears. As I get older I know for sure, we all need a soft place to fall. And fall we will. As we continue on there will be more challenges and more tears, there will be losses. Such is the stuff of the journey we all have embarked upon, in this lifetime. No longer living with large sums of time in the bank, each year becomes sweeter, each friendship more valuable.
As we gathered up our things to leave the lake I helped my sister as she tried to tie the boat up a little tighter. It was tethered to the dock, but still floating away a bit. We found a long piece of rope and an anchor. Together we wrapped it around and around from the boat to the dock, securing it tighter. We just wanted it to stay put, to stay moored.
Would that we could do the same with this group. If only we could tie an invisible rope around us and hold on, letting no one float away!
Hold on friends. Enjoy the day, drink up and take huge gulps of this life we share and celebrate the wonder of it. There will also be storms ahead and we will face it all head on. Tossed about by the crashing waves we will weather it and though there may be trouble, together amidst our friendships, we will find soft places to fall.

Father's Day- Is Memory Lane really a cul de sac?

My dad never liked me. That's it, and there are no amount of "Oh gosh, that just isn't so!" remarks that can change it. For what ever reasons I had a father who did not like me and wasn't able to be a father to me in ways that I longed for. He did provide for our family to the best of his ability, and God knows that was difficult with six children, but the thing I have learned from my failed relationship with my father is how much we all long for the love and approval from those who call us into this world, no matter how old we get.
My dad worked crappy jobs, dirty difficult demeaning jobs for years on end in order to meet his financial committments. He saved money and paid his bills. He was financially frugal and those were admirable qualities.
But what I longed for, and actually begged him for even into my late adult years, was just his acceptance, his approval, his presence in my life. It never came.
My dad died the most horrible death that I have ever witnessed, and I have witnessed many many deaths. As we all stood around his bedside for hours I helped care for him along with my siblings. It pained me to see him suffering and all my supplications to the doctor to ease his pain fell on deaf ears. But when my dad finally died I was surprised to find that I felt absolutely nothing. Nothing. I knew then that any hopes of a relationship with him that I had clung to, had left the station years before.
I was an irritant in his life. As a child he saw me as ridiculous, dramatic and complicated. He told me over and over again that I was just "too godammed sensitive". I was just me. It's taken me many years to realize that there is no penalty in that.
In a spiritual sense I have come to a place of peace about my relationship with him. I realized one day that if we all get a life review when we cross over, and I believe we do, then he is now aware of all that I am, and all that could have been with us. I believe that I chose him as my father during this lifetime in order to do the work that I needed to do. I believe he taught me lessons that I am still uncovering. The pain and longing for his love and approval are still unquenched. How can a child reconcile the rebuff of their own father? But we grow older and we know that life isn't black or white, and that people are flawed. My flaws will be revealed to me in all their splendor at my life review as well, and I pray that while I still have life here I will continue to express love and kindness to my best abilities. I hope in some small way also that as I care for my own children, I can break the cycle of hurt. I hope that they know deep into the marrow that I love them with everything in me. I hope they know that I am their loudest cheerleader and their softest place to fall.
I may never be famous or wealthy, and when I die I'm sure few will even notice. But if my children know how much I loved them, then I will cross over with peace. What goes around doesn't always come around, that's a myth. But sometimes we are able to heal the sins of our fathers, as our children will do for us as well.
On this father's day I honor the flawed and complex relationship I had with my father while he was here. I pray that as the years go on I will find more lessons amongst the rubble.
Where ever you are dad, I wish you peace. I wish you rest. I wish you love.

Tim Russert- A true gentleman

Today I was in a meeting with a client and a team of professionals. My phone rang twice during the meeting, and I politely ignored it. When it rang the third time I apologized and took the call. It was my sister Nancy phoning to tell me the sad news, that Tim Russert had died. I felt the immediate loss of someone I had never met, but felt that I knew. Tim Russert was to me a combination of Addicus Finch, Will Rogers and Edward R. Murrow. He was someone who had the gravitas to go toe to toe with heads of state, and yet you felt like you might just bump into him at the bus stop and share a joke. He knew his stuff and it was evident that anyone he interviewed was in serious trouble if they attempted to be less than transparent. He was a political purist true and true, and he had a love for this country that was unabashedly full of raw enthusiasm. Mr. Russert had class, something that is rare in a profession that regularly sells it's soul for a story. He was the guy you knew would ask the question we were all thinking, but never got the chance to ask. He was never pretentious, and yet as he deferred to his guests, he was weaving a web that would catch them in their own words if they weren't careful. He clearly knew his stuff and was universally respected among his peers. He was the brother you never had, or the dad you always wanted. He was a gentleman.
His legacy will be many things and I am so sorry as I think of his family tonight. Their grief is just begining.
Mr. Russert set the bar high for anyone who wishes to aspire to journalism in any form. His simple manner and indefatigable quest for the truth in every interview will be missed. Politics just won't be the same.
Tonight all the political junkies, and I am chief among them, mourn the loss of a great man. God bless Tim Russert.
May the angels welcome you to paradise, may the martyrs greet you on your way. May you see the face of the Lord this day, Mr. Russert, as you leave us.

Trifecta of wonder

Today was certainly a day when the Universe handed me three lovely gifts. I was out of town and after my last appointment of the day I recieved three little treats within an hour.

First: I was walking out of an office building, when I looked down to see a perfectly formed little birds nest. The whole family was gone, moved away, there were no eggs in sight, so I picked up the little habitat and gingerly placed it on the passenger seat for the ride home.
Second: A rainbow appeared in the sky and stayed there for the entire drive home. Just sitting up in a cloud really. Quite beautiful
Third: A blue heron flew across the sky right in front of my car. It was elegant and appeared to be flying almost in slow motion, oblivious to any primitive motor vehicles below. This creature was a thing of beauty.

So, the hat trick of nature's wonders, just for me. I feel giddy. I am placing the nest on my altar. It's an altar of beauty really. Beautiful things that others have given me over the years, or that I have collected that have special meaning. For anyone who cares to know, here are the items on my altar:

An icon of the Virgin of Guadelupe ( don't ask, it's like some sort of new obsession)
A bottle of black sand from Hawaii- a special gift from my sister Nancy and her husband Tom from their vacation many years ago
Starfish-a gift from my daughter Angela from when she went to Florida as a child
Rosary that I won in a fourth grade spelling bee (the begining of my nerdification)
Red sand from Red Rock Canyon given to me by Bobbie Joe
Fools gold that I panned for myself at a cheesy "gold mine" in California on a trip with girlfriends
A music box with a man and a woman who dance around in circles under a glass dome- I searched for years on the Internet before finding this as it reminds me of my grandmother
Several rocks that were given to me as gifts-what can I say, I dig rocks
Turtle carved from driftwood- a gift from my friend Susie, plus the turtle is my totem
Feathers- I collect them
Ceramic toad with mushrooms painted on it (that's a story best told over drinks)
Smooth stone with the words "Carpe Diem" painted on it (that is my life motto)
Heart shaped ceremonial rattle-given to me by Susan
Large crystal given to me by one of the few "real psychics" I've ever met-good woman, good energy

So now I am taking this darling little bird's nest and placing it on my altar. It will house my newest hopes and dreams. I will write them down and place them in the nest tonight. Perhaps with time and intention they will hatch into reality. The world is a thing of beauty, this is for sure. Today I am grateful, just so grateful.

Oh man, I LOVE this!

My sister just gave me the news last night: SMART IS THE NEW SKINNY!

Now, maybe for some of you that doesn't mean anything, but for all of us who were never the prom queen, this is the best news since Paypal!

I have always been the girl ( I use that loosely as I am 53 after all) that the guys want to talk to. Yeah, they want to talk to me about their girlfriends. I am the one they all came to when they needed "advice". As if!

Having been through marriage and divorce I now chuckle if any of my married friends even so much as glance at me for advice "Uh, need I remind you that I flunked that class with flying colors???"

Yeah, well, back to smart. I don't think I'm a genius but I am clever. I remember stupid shit that no one else does. Example:

First woman to win the Iditarod in Alaska=Libby Riddles

Why do I keep this bit of information in my head? What, in case I'm sitting in a bar some day and a couple of hot looking men are discussing the Iditarod when I overhear them saying "God, I cannot remember the name of that first woman who won it, if only there was a woman so full of trivia, so resplendant in her nerdification that she would know the answer in an instant, now that would be SOME woman. . ."

I would look over and say "Pardon me?", and at this point I would deliver a pregnant pause allowing them to notice me because up until this point I have been UTTERLY INVISIBLE. Surprised to see me sitting RIGHT NEXT TO THEM, they would turn and say "Huh?"

I would then say, in a very sexy 'come hither I am your intellectual dominatrix' voice "Weren't you maybe thinking of Libby Riddles?"

This is the part where their eyes glass over and they begin flirting with me, but HELLO! SNAP OUT OF IT, THIS IS REALITY!

They say "Uh, maybe. Thanks." and turn around. Okay, well I was only here for the bar peanuts anyway you knuckle dragging trogladytes.

I would still take Will Shortz and Ira Glass over David Beckham any day. Smart IS sexy in my book. I only hope there are still men around who feel the same. NERD ALERT!!

Chicago can relax now

The residents of Chicago have thrown open their shutters and the confetti is falling in the streets. Everywhere you go strangers are grabbing each other and planting fat juicy kisses on one another in collective celebration of: the return of legal foie gras. Yes friends, now chefs across the city can serve this worshipped delicacy without the liver police making a raid on their beloved kitchens and shutting them down in the wee hours of the morning. This much sought after tastiness can be traced back to the Egyptians, and all over the world people seem to crave this weird and fattening food.
Here's the thing. In an age where we can have any food we want, at any time of the day or night, in a city that is alive and vibrant and one of the worlds Mecca's of savory delicacies, do we really need to have what the French call "fatty liver"?
Now, I'm a carnivore, I eat meat, but at least I do it with guilt. I know I am eating an animal that was kidnapped, blindfolded and given a cheap cigarette, then backed quietly against a barn door and shot between the eyes. (okay, okay there may be some other version that includes electric anal prods or some such thing) but I enjoy my steak with a sense that some Karmic retaliation WILL be boomeranging it's way back to me some day. I accept that, pass the garlic.
But Foie Gras? Really, keeping geese and ducks in small cages, shoving tubes down their throats three times daily to fatten them up to the point of disease, then gutting them in order to feast on their sumptuous fatty livers just seems so, well, so unseemly. Aren't we a tad better than that? Don't we have enough fatty crap to eat what with all the lamb chops, steak fries, battered mushrooms in savory oil, steamed lobster in a carafe of melted butter-need I go on?
It seems to be the very height of American pseudo can-do that we have ingeniously grabbed onto a way to make a simple, and might I add innocent, duck become even fatter for us. It's like one of those horrible fairy tales that you start reading to your children only to discover it's riddled with grizzly tales of gruesome boogey men and disfigured and menacing trolls. "So, the shrivled old witch kidnapped the poor lost duck and put him in a wire cage no bigger than the little duck himself, forced an awful metal tube down his gullet three times daily, all the while chuckling to herself that she couldn't wait to cut open his FATTY LIVER and eat it raw!"
Maybe its because I grew up Catholic, or maybe it's the old hippie in me, but I draw the line at Foie Gras. Today I am stating for the record that I may still be eating food that once had a face, but I will not eat a liver that is fattened by torture.
Besides, one look at the average American backside tells us all that we have collectively too much junk in our perverbial trunk! Time to eat more sprouts and enjoy a little wine. Time to make peace with the fact that just because we CAN eat the fattened liver of an innocent duck, doesn't mean we should. I'm just sayin . . .

Even Spock knew this!

"The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few". As Hillary Clinton drags her sorry ass around the next few states left in this race, she will drag the Democratic chances for a win in November with her. And you know what the sickening part is? She doesn't care! Oh yes friends, she's in it to win it, make no mistake about that!
What we've learned about Senator Clinton is that like her husband, she will say and do ANYTHING to get where she wants to go, and she believes that she is entitled to be the next president, even if it means ruining the party, running up the debt of her campaign, and alienating a huge portion of the Democratic electorate.
Somehow Hillary didn't get the memo: Girl, it's over. Really. Pack your party clothes and take your cases of prepackaged confetti and go. What ever modicum of class you brought into this race has been eclipsed by your indefatigable thirst for power. We don't want you here, bottom line. We don't want a person who will sacrifice the entire election in November just to make herself look good in 2012. Your tender has lost its value and the trading floor is vacant.
Any respect I had for Senator Clinton in the begining of this race, and I had some, is now evaporated and I believe that if the Democrats lose in November it will not be because Senator Obama couldn't pull it off, it will be because in this pivotal moment in history, one woman with an overweening desire for power, would not concede that she had been bested in a hard fought race. SHE will be the reason we lose in November, and I hope she can live with that.
It reminds me of a bumper sticker I saw on a pick up truck that read "I'll give up my gun when they peel my cold, dead fingers from around the handle." Hillary's fingers are ice cold, and her chances of being elected are dead, again I am asking: Who is going to peel her away from this quest for the holy grail that she thirsts for but cannot attain? Howard Dean where are you?????

Hillary and Addicus Finch

Okay, does anyone else see the similarity between Hillary Clinton and her erratic behavior and the rabid dog in "To Kill a Mockingbird"?
It's an old dog, that never hurt anyone. (that's quite debatable with the Clintons, but I digress) and all it wants to do is be loved, adored and kept around the big kids table for as long as possible. It fancies itself quite the bulldog and wants to sleep in the big house and be allowed the run of the yard.
Now, while the food was plentiful and the race was going neck and neck, Hillary was a faithful soul, all wags, few bites. But as Obama has taken the lead it appears that Senator Clinton has taken on an almost rabid persona, vowing to win at all costs and numbers be damned! She's running up a tab that she won't be able to pay and she leaves a trail of helpless vendors in her wake who are now left holding the bag.
She's staggering, she's lookin shaggy, she's got that wild eyed look of a feral and dangerous creature that is no longer able to be trusted.
Who's going to be the Addicus Finch that will get the big ole shot gun known as REALITY ( and HOLD YOUR HORSES MORONS, I don't mean a REAL gun) and take her down?
Howard Dean, for the love of God man, get this woman in a closed setting and put the muzzle on, and while you're at it grab Bill. They are dangerous to the party and they've bitten enough people now to make them a down right liability to the Democratic Party.

I remember momma

Today is Mother's Day. I awoke with a quiet knowing that today is Mother's Day and I am motherless. My mother left us when I was 35 years old. I had just filed for divorce that same week, and my life felt like a too-big pair of ugly pants that had just fallen to my ankles. How would I make it now, my mother dead, and me alone to mother my three children? It's not as though my mother was involved in my life so much, she wasn't. For many years she was ill with things I will not speak of, and we were not close until the year before her death. Her illness, which eventually separated her from friends and many of her family, brought us closer. She was grounded by the oxygen tank, and it's umbilical cord. She was on house arrest with the crime of being ill. But it gave us the opportunity to be still with her, to help her, to talk to her and listen. It was so hard to see her suffer that when she died, I felt relief for her. Laying next to her in the hospital on a little cot the night before she died, I listened to her labored breathing full of bubbling, congested agony. If I slipped off to sleep I would awake with a start and listen to see if she was still there. Just after I went home that next morning she passed away. Her suffering ended, ours began.
Life without your mother is a wrenching blow that guts you, leaving a path of your bloody entrails for the world to see. And what's more, you don't care. Let the blood thirsty wolves of life come and rip me to shreds while I sleep, what does it matter any more?
But then, life goes on. You learn to grow up, learn to stop waiting for her to call, she won't. You learn that what ever gifts she gave you are all you have to last you for the rest of your life, so guard them well.
After I dressed this morning I left the house early, went to the store and bought a bouquet of flowers. I drove to the cemetery and placed them at my mother's grave. That, and a Bud Lite I brought from home. I stood in the rain and thanked her for the gifts she gave me. She was resourceful during the poorest of times. She was industrious and never gave up. She worked at her faith, praying, seeking, beseeching God for everyone's needs. She had a marvelous sense of humor, and a hearty laugh. She hugged everyone that came into our home and made everyone feel welcome. She had a fierce protective mother shield that no one could penetrate, and I knew that anyone who would ever wish us harm would recieve a serious Marg Vogel ass whooping. I felt loved. She was not a perfect mother, and now that I am 53 I see that none of us are, but she was my mother. And today, this Mothers' Day, I dearly miss her.

Maybe I can

Today I took a risk and it paid off. I joined the Playmakers runners club a month or so ago. I didn't mean to, I thought I was paying for the 5-K in Lansing, but anyway, I actually signed up to join the runners club, which is ironic as I am a walker, not a runner, and aren't you enjoying this run-on sentence?
So, I thought maybe if there were a walker amongst them I would be enticed to go try to train with them on Saturday mornings. I emailed the race team leader and asked "Will I be the only 53 year old there?" She assured me that there were walkers as well as runners, from all walks of life.
I tried on several tee shirts before leaving for the park. I decided not to wear the Playmakers Team shirt I got when I registered as I thought I would look like I was trying too hard. Then I tried on several more shirts that were too baggy or stained. Finally, the hell with it, I threw one on and left. I felt very nervous at first, then I just thought, "Who cares? I'm not trying to compete with anyone, I just want to work out with others who want to do the same!"
They were very friendly and there happened to be a woman my age just heading off on the trail. Her name was Olga and she graciously let me tag along. She told me that she was training for a half marathon in October. "Wow!" I said to her, thinking I could NEVER do that. But you know what? All I've been thinking of all day is "I wish I could do a half marathon. "
I think I will try. That's it. I just think I will try. It would be an astounding accomplishment for me to be able to do it, and having that as a goal will be good for me. Already today the three miles seemed like nothing, so I know that I will be able to build up to 4.5 soon.
I took a risk and found others who are also, like me, trying to stay healthy and fit. It's a nice club to belong to, not the Playmakers Club, but the "I want to stick around on this planet for a long while more" club. I want to maintain my membership.
In the tortoise and hare race I have always been the tortoise, but I usually do cross the finish line.
I encourage anyone reading this to take a risk and try something new. Only good things will come of it.

What's next?

Okay check out this quote I found online:

-One study recently cited in the New York Times asked a group of previously obese people, “Would you rather be fat or blind?” A stunning 89% answered “blind.” As in – can never see again. -

Good God have mercy on our dumb asses! What an insult to blind people. What the hell?

I know that being fat is emotionally hurtful, I have stories to prove it, but for real-you'd rather be blind? This is stunning to me, it really highlights how judgemental we are as a society regarding body shapes.

I believe that women need to take a stand and quit being ruled by what others think of them. Most men think, when they look in the mirror, that they are hot. Women need to get that same mindset. We need to quit comparing ourselves to each other, yes, news flash, women are worse than men in this area, and move on to higher ground.

I have worked hard to get fit and I intend to look upon myself with the notion that I am mighty fine. You may disagree, and that's okay. I don't get my sense of self from you, or Heidi Klum or Paris Hilton.

If we don't get a handle on this issue what could be next-foot binding?

An homage to Miles

Miles Levin died last year after a long courageous battle with cancer. He had just graduated from high school and had his entire life in front of him. But he was never to be able to enjoy it as he lost the battle with cancer. He had an impact on hundreds of thousands of people through his blog on Carepages. I believe that his blog had the ability to change lives and I include one of his frequent quotes here as encouragment to anyone who is facing a challenge in their life.

"STOP STRUGGLING, KEEP FIGHTING" Doesn't that just say it all? It speaks to me at a time in my life where I must surrender so much. I have no control over the economy or the mortgage rates. I can't predict whether or not my car will continue to run well for another year. I can't control whether or not my children will remain healthy.

What I can control are my thoughts. I am going to try in the coming weeks to gently remind myself to stop struggling so much, but not give up the quest, what ever that may be in the moment. I want to float down the river, enjoying the scenery, not waste all my energy doing the front crawl in order to get there first. Life isn't a race, and there are no big prizes for being the best, or being the smartest, fastest or most committed to their jobs.

I want to surrender to a higher power that makes something exquisite out of what appears to be chaos. I want to quit looking for the fairy tale and enjoy the story I am already in.

I will keep fighting in my life to control my weight, to appreciate myself as I am, to maintain some boundaries with work so that it doesn't consume my life, and to try to allow the flow of what is.

Miles, where ever you are my dear, thank you for this wisdom. I only wish you had lived long enough to see the outcome of your words.