Random Things

Last night the power cord for my laptop died.   I hate when that happens.  The Spouse did the autopsy and then ordered me a new one.  I should have it on Monday.  (Except he paid for rush shipping which, with Dell, means I should have it by some time in 2010).  It's a really good thing The Child has a laptop that isn't password protected and that I get up before she does.

Then I had one of those nights when I woke up repeatedly and lay in bed worrying about every stoopid little thing in the world, none of which I could do a lick about from bed.  It never ceases to amaze me how the tiniest things become so dreadfully huge in the dark of the night.  By the light of day, none of them were a big deal at all.  I really hate that; I could have used the sleep.

The Spouse asked me out on a date for tomorrow night.  I'm a little nervous because it's an industry thing, which means he'll be talking with movie people about lights and cameras and I'll be standing around wondering if we're going to be home in time for the new episode of "iCarly".  But it's nice that he wants me to go with him so I will.  

I have to find something red to wear to work today.  We're having a little party to officially switch on the outside Christmas lights on The House and I know MAB will be decked out like a little elf.  I don't think I even own anything that's red, except for one pullover that's currently too tight.  (I just learned that there is an employee fitness center at the hospital; The Neighbor and I are going to start going next week.  I'm getting very tubby and I don't like that.  Sausages are a very delicious thing to eat but looking like one is not very attractive).

It's All True

Yesterday the official recorded temperature was 102°, the highest for that date in Seattle history.

I admit, that's a little hot.

Traditionally, homes in the Northwest don't have AC. It just isn't historically necessary. A few years ago The Spouse bought a window unit for our family room. I berated him soundly. What was he thinking, spending hundreds of dollars on something that would be used maybe MAYBE one or two days out of the year? Amortizing out the cost, however, proves it to be a wise decision. Not to mention that right now you can't lay your hands on any cooling unit in any home store in the area. Seriously. MAB just bought a unit that had come off the truck 15 minutes before and by the time they checked out the supply was depleted again.

And we have fans for the other rooms, which makes sleep possible, even when there is no air coming through the open windows.

The Dog has a big bowl of water. I feel bad leaving him shut up in the house each day until The Child returns from summer school. But he's coping in his own doggie way.

Also, I have increased my sandal wardrobe and yesterday bought some more flowy "Jai Ho" skirts to wear to work.

In the evenings we dine al fresco and then sit in the back garden until it is dark. Last night we ran the sprinkler and would occasionally douse ourselves. Who doesn't love a douse in a sprinkler?


Plus, heat greatly diminishes my appetite so I'm pretty sure that by the time this is all over I will have lost a few unnecessary pounds. That's not a bad thing.

The temps are going to start coming down. It's only supposed to get to 101° today. See how we adapt?

And adaptation is the bottom line. I was telling someone the other day that Seattleites need to learn how to drive in snow and function when it's hot. People in the Northwest are, I believe, complete and total weather wimps. We whine if it's too cold, we whine if it's too hot. And trust me, traditionally "too hot" is anything over 75°. And we make far, far too big a deal of the weather, even on an official basis. (Our weathermen and women are among the most hysterical (as in crazy raving over-reaction) around. "Snow in the forecast!!!!!! How will it affect your commute????????? Temperatures in the 100s!!!!!!!!!!! Arrrrggghhhh!!! We're all gonna die!!!!!!!!!!!!!!).

The way I see it our weather patterns very well may be changing and the best plan in my view is to accept the new normal and shut the H up. I'm quite sure that your personal body temperature increases several degrees with every complaint about the heat you make. And complaining distracts you from the blessings. Last night I was having (iced) cocktails with The Neighbor and a gorgeous cool breeze started to blow, rustling the leaves of her fruit trees in the most musical way and cooling our skin. I stopped and just paid attention to that breeze. It felt so very, very good. Without the heat I would have completely taken that breeze for granted and that would have been sad.

Now if you'll please excuse me, I'm going to go ice my feet.

Out with the Girls

Last Saturday night MAB, The Neighbor, Emmers and I went to Gay Bingo. It's a monthly fundraiser for the Lifelong AIDS Alliance...good organization...and since the theme this month was Paris, it was clear we had to attend.

But we couldn't just go and play bingo. We had to dress for the occasion. More importantly, we felt the need to wear hats. Eiffel Tower hats. Which we had to make. So we did. They were grand. This is mine:

The web site where we found the Eiffel Towers also carried Eiffel Tower sippy cups. Had to have those.

We dressed, donned our chapeaux and swanned into the joint, speaking in French accents. Which we managed to do all night, even when we were just talking to each other. And we were fabulous. People were asking to have their pictures taken with us, ooohing and aaaahing over our hats, admiring our sippy cups (it is not easy, btw, to transfer a Cosmopolitan into an Eiffel Tower sippy cup but it can be done). We were photographed for web sites and even invited to participate in the costume contest.

Admittedly, I have issues with the outcome of the contest. We came in second. Second to a couple of dudes who had rented Louis XIV and Marie Antoinette costumes. Puleeezzeee. Anyone can rent a damn costume. To craft chapeaux from cardboard Eiffel Towers? That takes talent. (It was really only annoying after the fact when people kept coming up to us and saying we were robbed. Hello? Were you cheering loudly for us? Because that's what it took. Hello? If you don't vote you can't complain about the government. Or something like that).

But no matter, we still won prizes. Tickets to a burlesque show AND electric martini makers. In all honesty, this appliance represents everything that is wrong with America. It is an electric device that replaces the need to hold a shaker and go "schinka schinka schinka" a couple of times. Completely useless. And yet.....there is an allure. Note there are two settings:

Can you see them?


That's right. "Stir" and "Shake". Oh my giddy aunt.


Anygin, we had a veryvery fun time. Oh! I bingo'ed in the second game and came away with $50! I ended up donated $30 of it back ($10 right away and later I bought a tee shirt that says "Bingo is the new black") but still. I'm not the sort of person who wins things so it was quite a triumphant night.


And did I mention that we were fabulous?


(l to r: some chick who works for a radio station bogarting a sippy cup, MAB, The Neighbor, Moi)

Two bad ass chicks from the Moulin Rouge.

(Ok, actually, I look more like Elphaba from "Wicked" but you get the point).

My Oh My

March is going out like a lion. Actually, right this second, it's pretty nice. Cold, but nice. Not like the sloppy snow-rain and frigid temperatures of the last few days. I think it's because The Neighbor returned from a week long trip to her mom's. (She's a very nice daughter but that sort of behavior really messes with my cocktail hour).

This is what it looked like on Friday.

This is what The Child thought about it:

Life now returns to normal. The Child is back in school, The Neighbor will be home for cocktails this evening and I, well, I am caught up in the magic that only happens once a year, swathed as I am in the sense that anything is possible, anything can happen...all you gotta do is believe. Yep, it's Opening Day.

(Do I like the M's chances this year? Their record was 13-16-3 in spring training, which pretty much means nothing. Who knows? Ask me in July).

Yawn

I just downloaded 412,000 photos from my new camera. It'll be a while before I have them sorted out.

The house is quiet; everyone is back at work and school. I love the first day after everyone gets back to the routine. The Dog and I have been a little lazy, but we deserve it. I've been productive, too. I mean, downloading 412,000 photographs takes time.

So the other day, The Neighbor shows me that she's started a blog. Yippee. I told her I wasn't going to link to her right away because too often I have friends who say, "Oh! You have so much fun blogging, I think I'll do it to!" and they get all psyched and I link them and tell everyone to go visit and then they never blog again. But then, I see The Neighbor every day so I guess I can link to her because the nag factor is enhanced by proximity.

Anyblog, here's her new address in Blogtopia. Stop by while she's unloading the moving van. Maybe bring a casserole.

Designers, Gather 'Round....

If you've already been by Hat's this morning you know that she and I love "Project Runway" and are, with the possible addition of Monica and Anne, going to play a little game wherein every Wednesday night we dress up to watch the show, taking care to document the ensemble photographically and posting said pictures with our reviews the next day. I'm giving it 2 weeks.

Now you've been warned that this post is all about the agony and ecstasy that is "Project Runway" so if you're looking for sturdier fare best to be moving along now.

I also have to make sure to not read Hat's posts until I'd written my own because a) it makes it harder to be original because I have to try and avoid repeating what she said and 2) it will be way more fun if we do say the same things without knowing it and then we can laffity laff about it over coffee later.

Hat did refer to the "hot Israeli guy", name of Rami, who won the first competition. I second her hotness nomination but would caution her that his last name, Kashou, is pronounced "cashew" and if she marries him it will be really awkward.

Hat and Tim Gunn Theatre

"Pleased to meet you. I'm Hat Kashou."

"Bless you, Hat. I'm Tim Gunn, your long lost uncle. But I didn't catch the last name."

"Kashou."

"Bless you. Seriously, you're last name..."

"I said, it's 'Kashou.'"

"Goodness! Bless you again, darling; here's the perfectly pressed, monogrammed handkerchief I always carry for such a circumstance. Now, about your name..."

---

Here's my picture. I was wearing a terrific little ensemble: grey windowpane plaid tulip skirt, cashmere turtleneck, knee high black boots. All you get is this, though.

There's only one crappy picture because someone who shall go nameless (but lives next door and whose nickname rhymes with "babe") totally forgot that last night was the premiere and went out to dinner. Are. You. Kidding. Me? Anyway, I had hoped for her help with the "fashion shoot" but what the hey hey. If Hat has to take her own pictures then so do I. I'll do better next week.

---

First of all, the main reason to watch this show, imho, is Tim Gunn. Why do I love him so on PR and never make time anymore to watch the actual show he has on Bravo where he's on screen way more? Because his own show on Bravo stinks. He doesn't stink, mind you. In fact, I'm fairly certain he smells faintly of bay rhum. But it is a show that simply hasn't held my interest. His sidekick is thoroughly annoying and their relationship bears none of the wit, banter or obvious affection that is shared between Stacy and Clinton on "What Not to Wear"...with which "Guide to Style" is intended to compete. 'Cept it doesn't. Stacy and Clinton have No. Thing. to worry about. Where was I?

Tim Gunn. I adore him. I try really hard to impersonate him. It's harder than you think. I want to politely but warmly shake his hand and invite him to join me for a snifter of brandy in the library. (He's not the kind of guy you'd squench up in a sloppy hug and take for beer). He is simply the best thing about the show...a position borne out by the stupid text message contest thing that Bravo always does during their reality shows. (I hate that, btw).

Who I hate on PR? Michael Kors. He's really bitchy and worse than that, he thinks he's funny. He's so not.

Heidi Klum was looking superfantastic as always. I was a little annoyed that her first meeting with the designers was shot almost entirely with the camera behind her, up and at an angle. "All the better to see all the designers, my dear," says you.

"All the better to show us that her butt, tightly swathed in black, is fierce and this after having had her 3rd or 4th Seal pup", says me. But really. That simply was not kind. To any viewer with body image issues, I mean. It was obviously superfantastic for Heidi.

---

First challenge: using obscenely gorgeous fabrics, design something that will tell us who you are as a designer.

This is only the first week so of course this is going to change but I'd have to say that my favorite designers thus far are Carmen (funny, tough, used to be a model herself), Kit (little bit of punk sensibility, without the apparent ego of Jeffrey and if you watch PR you know what I mean), Jillian, because I liked her dress and also because she totally reminds me of that actress who's name I can never remember but who I really like and always have to look up on IMDb before I remember. See?





Jillian, the designer







Sofia Milos, the actress

Twins separated at birth, people.

I also like Kevin, who's a dreamboat.

---

Most people watch PR for the crazy fashion. Me, I always end up judging clothes by what I myself would wear. I also always root for the nicest people. Which is why I've only ever once been pleased with the winner (Chloe...season 2). That's also why my favorite dresses were this one, by Christian:



















And this number by Steven:



















I don't like Christian much, though. He's a pissy little dude and ever so impressed with himself. Look to him for some major bitchiness this season. Steven is his polar opposite, quiet and unassuming. He will be flying under the radar with consistently beautiful things. I suspect he won't actually win a challenge until later in the season. But he's super talented. I also like him because he's from Chicago.

Other notable designers, for one reason or another:

Sweet P, who is the most likely to either become one of my absolute favorite personalities or make me drive my Harley off a cliff.

Victorya, most likely to stick a stiletto in someone's back.

Ricky, most likely to break down and blubber during a judging.

Rami, the future Mr. Hat (bless you), with this little number:



















As you can see, it is a perfectly lovely dress, crafted in grey silk gorgette. My biggest issue with it, frankly, was that his model is, shall we say, endowed. Endowed girls shouldn't go braless. (No, Sling, they really shouldn't). There was an undulation factor on the runway that was unfortunate. The girls shouldn't compete with the fashion, know what I'm saying? But still, he won and that's fine because he's clearly talented.

---

So let's talk about the losers. The first to go was a sweet, classy little thing named Simone Le Blanc (seriously), who made a not thoroughly horrible dress but the construction was abysmal. And I say that as someone who can't sew a lick. But it was really dreadful and the worst thing was that when asked to explain she said she got into a "time issue". Really? Honey, there were 15 other designers under the exact same time constraints as your sweet self and they all managed to finish their seams. Not to mention that most of them did much more ambitious things than you did (here's all the dresses...Simone's is the second one on the bottom row).

Not horrible, but still. Delivering the technical goods within time constraints is exactly the point of the competition. If she couldn't do it in week one, when she wasn't constrained by the limits of the challenge (make a day dress out of lettuce) then she was bound for a fall sooner rather than later. But she's cute as a button and I'll bet if she has other people sewing for her she'll make a fine designer without winning on PR. So bon chance, Simone.

Then there was Elisa. Elisa, who came second closest to being "auf'ed". Oh. My. Yord. What a freak. And I'm pretty sure the only reason she survived the cut (with a dress that, as Heidi said, "looked like it was pooing fabric") is because the producers are looking for her to provide a lot more interesting footage than sweet, sensible Simone. You can be a crappy designer and stay around a while, if you're nutty enough. And trust, Elisa is. She's a whack-O. A hippy dippy who "dyed" some of the expensive fabric by crushing it into the grass of Bryant Park. A nutjob who described her dress as having " a haiku of a cut". The sort of gal whose patchouli stench comes through the TV screen. The government should stop waterboarding prisoners and just leave them alone in a room with Elisa for 5 minutes. That'd win the war on terror.

All in all, a perfectly fine premiere episode of Season 4. Looking forward to next Wednesday. (Got that, Neighb? Wednesday. 10pm. Sheesh).

Party, Party, Party

Friday was the school Halloween carnival.

I was a goth witch.

I had a minion.

The party was fun, especially the Hall of Horrors, wherein I was the Swamp Witch and made kids cry. But my favorite part of the evening was when I went outside to yell at all the kids who were too cool to be inside at the carnival. I adore yelling at other people's kids. I really do.

Saturday was all about The Spouse's 50th birthday party, which was a Rat Pack theme. The food was plates full of retro yumminess like Chex mix, relish tray (huzzah for baby gherkins), mixed nuts (which could also apply to the guests), and the things I took pictures of:

Cheese Ball with Triscuits

Stuffed Mushrooms

Devilled Ham Pinwheels (the Neighbor made these).

Pigs in a BlanketRumaki (the kind with water chestnuts because I'm not a fan of the chicken liver unless someone else has reduced it to a nice little pate with good mouth feel). Credit where credit is due, this was The Child's contribution.We had apple pie because The Spouse is not a huge fan of the cake and he does love him some apple pie.I made 3 pies. What a shame. There was 1 1/2 left over. Shame, shame. Or as I like to call it, "breakfast".

Because it was a Rat Pack-y theme, The Neighbor and I wore lacquered do's:

Sometimes I think we are just the cutest things on God's green earth.

Also, as history has long borne out, an upswept do is the perfect perch for a tiara.

There were gifts. Mostly single malt scotch, because when in doubt with The Spouse, that's the way to go. The key exception to this gift-giving theme came from The Boys, who are now The Spouse's favorite people in the world EVER. They gave him an iPod nano. He almost cried.

You know what stinks? Aside from the fact that he is now using possession of same to torture The Child? The stinkiest part of the stench is that I had been desperately casting about from some grand gesture, like the one he'd pulled off for my birthday, and I couldn't come up with anything. So when The Boys asked me if he'd like an iPod I should have said, "Oh, darn, I'm already giving him one. Get him some scotch" and stolen the idea but I am apparently not that devious as I only figured this out last night. Dammit.

I gave him scotch.

Anyway, a pleasant time was had by all. There was the requisite blowing out of candles

and midnight toasting

and now I'm just very thankful that we don't have to have 2 big back-to-back blow out celebrations for another 10 years.

Day of Rest. Ha.

I got up yesterday at 6am because I had to go help out with the PTA Pumpkin Patch before retrieving The Child to go to church so I could deliver the homily for the youth liturgy and then come home and work on the school phone directory which is going out this week. If it hadn't been for the absolute autumnal perfection of the weather, an afternoon glass of vin rouge with The Neighbor (who is finally done gallivanting), meatloaf for dinner and "Brothers and Sisters", I might have found the day a bit too too.


All those things I wanted to get done last week got done and so now I can focus my energies on more exciting things, like writing projects and the upcoming Autumnal Feast. I came up with a menu last night. Have to run it by The Spouse before executing the plan but it is, in my humble estimation, killer.

The Spouse finished a rough cut assembly of the movie. It looks pretty darned good. Once the rough bits are smoothed out and Buck's orchestration gets laid down, I think it will be a fine little film. If you are dying of curiosity, you can g o look at some stills from the movie over at The Spouse's blog.

The Child is home with a stomach thing that has been going around. Blast. Blast about the stomach thing, not so much the her staying home thing. I'm making her stay in bed so it's not like she's in my way or anything.

That is all.

R.I.P

I'm very sad to report that Bugsy has gone to be with St. Lassie.

He had a very rough night on Wednesday and was clearly uncomfortable all day yesterday. (The Neighbor's son and his girlfriend were with him all day). When she got home from work they decided that keeping him alive at this point was more for them than for him and so they took him to the vet and were with him when he died.

And yes, we were all crying and very sad last night because Bugsy was a part of our family, too. He stayed with us whenever she was out of town. On nice days, when The Neighb would leave him out in the yard, he'd come over to the fence to say "hi" and get his head scratched through the fence.

People who don't have pets don't understand how much a part of the rhythm of your life they become. And dogs, in particular, occupy a special place in the life of a family. They have so much personality, they give love so unconditionally. When our Cat was sick and possibly dying that made us all very sad. But once The Child looked up at me and said, "Oh, mommy, if I'm this sad about The Cat, what would it be like if it was The Dog?" It hurts to even contemplate it.

Which is why we all know how hard this is for The Neighbor and her kids. (We're all so glad both of them were in town when all this happened).

Bugsy was 15 and 1/2. He led a very exciting life for a Bichon. The Son used to treat him as if he were a Doberman...taking him off on surfing vacations and the like. He got to fly to Montana last Christmas. (The picture above is from that trip; he's posing with The Son).

He was a family dog who became the beloved, constant companion of The Neighbor when she went through her divorce. He was with her when the kids left the nest and he always seemed to be just a smidge more sprightly whenever either of them returned home. He was a quiet, loving little chap who looked like a foo-foo dog but had the heart of a champion. He was dearly loved.

We're going to have a wake for him in a couple of weeks. That'll be a good thing. And maybe, when some time has passed, The Neighbor will get another dog. (She's hardly ever been without one in her whole life. The Spouse has suggested that she send up black smoke every day and then, when she gets a new dog, signal its arrival with white smoke. What a card). Of course, she can't really think about that right now. Now is the time for just missing Bugsy and being grateful for all his doggy years of friendship.

Rest in peace, Bugs. Hope all the fire hydrants in heaven are solid gold.

Oh, So Quickly

Skol's out! Almost.

From 8-10 I'll be with the other Board members setting up for the end-o-the-year picnic. We party from 10 to 1. After clean up I'm taking my carpool for ice cream and then it's no more pencils, no more books for 2.5 months. (Except for the math tutoring and the 3 book reports that'll be due September 4).

The Child has been singing this for 5 days:



Secondly, I'd like to say that I had no intention of being so provocative yesterday when I alluded to "marriage-altering stuff without providing details. Although, reading what y'all came up with by way of filling in the blanks was tres entertaining.

I'm still not dishing out details. If you've been reading for any length of time you know that I don't write about the internal workings of my marriage. It's just one of my personal blog rules. Suffice to say, there was an area of our discourse that needed some work and we had a very civilized conversation about the ways in which to work it. What was "marriage-altering", to me, was the fact that a) we had a very civilized conversation about something that we'd normally handle by heaving crockery at each other and 2) we came to an understanding that promises to greatly improve how we deal with this area in future. That's all.

Nothing anywhere near as glamorous as a pregnancy (hello? do we not realize mommy is almost 50? Puleeze!), windfalls, moves or new careers. But isn't it nice to know that after 16 years two people can work with rather than against each other? I think it is.

Finally: Last night I went blithely tripping over to The Neighbor's for the customary cocktail to encounter a silent little group in the back garden. The Neighb, her 2 kids and the Son's girlfriend were gathered around Bugsy, the very ancient Bichon, who is on his last legs.

The vet isn't sure what's wrong except to say that his blood cell count is very low and he's on his way out. He gave them some pain medication to keep him comfortable and now we just wait. The Neighb is only hoping that he goes peacefully at home and so do I.

The Child and I both paid our respects. Bugsy was sort of our starter dog. He'd come to stay with us whenever The Neighb travelled. We love the old boy and it will be very sad when he goes to St. Francis. So if all you pet lovers would send good thoughts in The Neighbor's direction, that would be very nice.

Right. Time to rouse The Child, slather on sunscreen and get ourselves off to the last hours of school. I'm going to be so happy when it's 2 o'clock.

Big Fun

A few weeks ago The Neighbor was involved in an annual variety show that her co-workers put on. She graciously authorized me to share with you these pictures from the performance.


"These Boots Were Made for Walkin'" as Nancy Sinatra















and "Islands in the Stream" as Dolly Parton.
















Good times.

Easter Monday

Right about now my regular blog buddies are thinking, "Hey, shouldn't we be seeing glorious pictures of the BAH as she regales us with tales of the feast? Ought not our mouths to be watering by now?"

Yes.

But see, first I slept in for a really long time and then had coffee with The Neighbor, who slept in even longer. Then I stared mindlessly at my computer for a while, answered a few emails, read some stuff, like that.

And now I have to mitigate the damage from last night's party before going over to help The Neighbor start reclaiming some of her house. (The remodel is puttering toward an end and she's so ready for it to all be over. I told her this morning that I was fooling around on the computer because that way my back was to the kitchen mess and she said, "I want to turn my back on my whole house". Hence my desire to help her find some order amid the chaos).

So anyway, maybe you'll get festal pictures and wrap up later today. Or tomorrow. I also haven't told you what I thought of Sofia Coppola's "Marie Antoinette" or about the newly instituted Easter tradition of the BBB or about yesterday's brunch or the fact that the authorities suspect arson in that house fire the other night.

I had jelly beans and coffee for breakfast. And the ears of my solid chocolate bunny with Butterfinger® bits in it.

Problem Solved

First of all, thanks to Mollie, BALT & Dana for offering creative suggestions to my gift giving dilemma.

Second of all, God bless Kina.

She just called with a brilliant idea. She suggested that, since I'm a writer and all that, I write something for The Child about what her birthday means to me, the promise it holds for her and such like that there. She then suggested that I put it in a little keepsake box or some such.

This idea is fab for a couple of reasons, not the least of them being the fact that I was also planning to take The Child to dinner in the next couple of weeks, just her and me. Only when we get to the restaurant we would be greeted by the other women who are important in her life, like The Neighbor, Seattle Coffee Girl, Kina and ReeRee, for starters. The purpose of this dinner would be to ritualize the fact that she has all these amazing women in her life who have and will continue to support and guide her as she makes the journey from childhood to womanhood. Women who will share their advice and experience whenever she needs it. (It has always been very important to me that she have other women in her life, for those inevitable times when talking to me won't feel like an option). I had thought that they could all bring a piece of advice that has served them well, written on a note, that she could keep against the challenging times ahead.

So there you go. She's getting a Box o' Wisdom for her birthday. And maybe some earrings.

SOTU Recap

Best line of the night:

"I'm one 'Iran' away from bingo", uttered by The Spouse, who did in fact win. The Child and I tied for second. No one got a blackout.

The President looked like a deer in the headlights coming down the aisle. Then the talking heads pointed out that he usually speaks to friendly, hand-picked audiences. Having to address a majority of Democrats would have been a little nerve-wracking.

He gets snaps for so graciously congratulating Madame Speaker Pelosi. It was very lovely. It might have been nice if he'd gone one step further and acknowledged that she succeeded in accomplishing, with sterling bi-partisan effort I might add, the "First 100 Hours Agenda" that she'd laid out:

Ethics reform
An increase in the federal minimum wage for the first time in 10 years
Enactment of the 9-11 commission's recommendations
Expanded stem-cell research
Government negotiation of prices with prescription drug companies
Student loan interest rates cut in half
The elimination of billions in subsidies for big oil companies

But you take what you can get. Interestingly, one of the words that he never did actually use was "bi-partisan". I fully expected him to make a much bigger deal of working with Congress but not so much.

For obvious reasons, however, he devoted the first half of the speech to domestic issues and programs which Dems are jiggy with. He left out a few things, like when he was talking about tax breaks for people who pay for their own insurance or don't have any. He failed to mention the part of his plan wherein insurance paid for by an employer will be treated as taxable income. Details.

It would also be nice if when he called on Congress to re-authorize "No Child Left Behind" he had pledged to fully fund it...something he still hasn't done. But again, details.

The second half of the speech was about foreign policy. That was infinitely more disappointing, given how he clings to his failed policy in Iraq. "Fear, fear, fear. Is that all he's got?" muttered The Neighbor. Yes, yes it is. Not that it's working anymore. With only 18% of the population still supporting the war, it's clearly not working. People have finally wised up to the fact that the "war on terror" is something altogether different from the mess in Iraq. I really don't understand how someone can hold so fast to such a bad idea, an idea not even supported by most Republicans, by most of the military and the vast majority of the people. How many kinds of wrong does one person have to be before he wakes up and smells the java?

But Sen. Jim Webb, who gave the Democratic response, delivered a fine smackdown. He spoke of the military service of his father, himself and his son, who is in Iraq as we speak. Then he said,

"We owed them (our leaders) our loyalty, as Americans, and we gave it. But they owed us ­ sound judgment, clear thinking, concern for our welfare, a guarantee that the threat to our country was equal to the price we might be called upon to pay in defending it.

The President took us into this war recklessly. He disregarded warnings from the national security adviser during the first Gulf War, the chief of staff of the army, two former commanding generals of the Central Command, whose jurisdiction includes Iraq, the director of operations on the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and many, many others with great integrity and long experience in national security affairs. We are now, as a nation, held hostage to the predictable ­ and predicted ­ disarray that has followed.

The war's costs to our nation have been staggering. Financially. The damage to our reputation around the world. The lost opportunities to defeat the forces of international terrorism. And especially the precious blood of our citizens who have stepped forward to serve.

The majority of the nation no longer supports the way this war is being fought; nor does the majority of our military. We need a new direction. Not one step back from the war against international terrorism. Not a precipitous withdrawal that ignores the possibility of further chaos. But an immediate shift toward strong regionally-based diplomacy, a policy that takes our soldiers off the streets of Iraq's cities, and a formula that will in short order allow our combat forces to leave Iraq".

You go, Jim!

I only yelled at the President a couple of times (it's what I do). Laura Bush looked like a doll next to that big huge basketball player, who was the first "ordinary citizen" that was recognized. (Never heard of the guy because I don't follow the NBA. Also had never heard of the chappie who saved that guy on the NY subway. I have, apparently, been living under a rock. But I always think those little acknowledgements are kinda nice. Corny, but nice.)

So that's pretty much my take on the SOTU. What did you think?

4th Tuesday of January

It's time again to play State of the Union Bingo!

The Neighbor is joining us for sausage risotto (get it...risotto, SOTU...just me? 'K) and the game.

I always watch the State of the Union address. It isn't always easy, of course, especially when it means listening to W. But for some bizarre reason I feel like it's my duty as a citizen to subject myself to 40 minutes of lies, justifications and obfuscations. It's the American way. Plus, it will be kinda fun tonight because there will be more Democrats in the chamber than Republicans. Which means fewer standing ovations and interruptions for applause. Probably won't even take 40 minutes, considering that.

I'm making our cards for the bingo game. (I found some on line but I had better words plus I factor in camera shots. Look for shots of John McCain, Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama. I still remember fondly 2 years ago when there were about 3 different shots of Ted Kennedy just sitting there shaking his head in disgust at what he was hearing. Good times).

For some reason, maybe because I was thinking about words, I started picturing this video and it seemed appropriate somehow.

Growing Up

The Child has been a little, shall we say, volatile lately. I know it's because of her impending birthday. The other night she told The Neighbor that she still wanted to be a kid.

"You'll still be a kid," she replied. "I'm still a kid at heart. So is your mom. Your dad is still a big kid".

I added that I'd felt the same way and that one of my biggest concerns about turning 13 was that I was afraid my mom would come and take away my stuffed cat, Algie, with whom I still slept.

"So I can still sleep with Lovey*"?

"Hey, I slept with Algie until your dad came along!"

She was relieved, but the worries persist. So yesterday, after school, we sat down for a snack, a few rounds of mancala and a little chat.

"How are you feeling about turning 13?"

She wiggled her hand in that motion that means "so-so".

"Anything in particular making you concerned?"

"Well, it's a lot more responsibility," she said.

"I suppose. What sort of responsibilities are you thinking about?"

"Like having more chores".

I had to wait a beat. I was expecting something big, something to do with periods or boys or even making decisions about stuff like smoking and drugs.

"So let me get this straight. You're worried about turning 13 because you think you're going to have to do more stuff around the house?"

She nodded.

"Well, if it helps, I don't have any plans to wake you up on Friday morning and give you a list of stuff to do. In fact, I'm pretty happy with the fact that lately you are very willing to help when you're asked. As long as you keep pitching in like that and keep your room clean, I don't see any need to give you more to do".

She breathed a sigh of relief.

"Anything about turning 13 that you're excited about".

"Well, it's one year closer to cool stuff".

"Such as?"

"Being able to drive, having my own house. Oh, nothing personal, Mom. But you know. And it's a year closer to being a mom".

"You're right about that. 13 is a lot closer to a lot of really great stuff. But you know, honey, the good part about getting older is that it doesn't happen all at once. You have time to adjust. It's not like you'll turn 13 and bam! you have to be grownup. And you know, when you were little and took your first steps, papa and I didn't say, 'Ok, you can walk now. We're done carrying you'. For what it's worth, we're still here for you".

She smiled. I think she feels a little better.

* A stuffed unicorn.

15 Minutes of Accomplishment

Assuming, well, assuming all sorts of things, today might actually be "normal". It's been a long time.

"Normal" means getting up early for coffee and prayer (check), unloading the dishwasher (check), getting The Child off to school without incident (check). So far so good.

Now what it means is getting something accomplished. There's a lot that hasn't been normal lately, with the weather changing routines and all that. This has only compounded the struggle with my own little devil, the one named "Procrastination". Here's an example of how it gets me. Say I need to pungle some bills (which I do). That usually also requires entering stuff into Quicken, possibly reconciling the checkbook, adjusting my cash flow projections...all of which take time. Usually too much time, because I procrastinate. I procrastinate even when I know there is money to pay the bills, although I know part of this is a hold-over from the days when I didn't have money and every bill paying session was accompanied by a clenched stomach, dry mouth and shaking hands. The other part of it is just that because I put it off there is always a ton to do and I feel overwhelmed so I just don't do it at all. Which means that there is even more on the pile the next time I think to tackle it.

Or take editing that liturgy book. I finished the manuscript last January. I've done very little on the editing. Because it's a big job. It's going to involve some re-writing. I don't enjoy that so much. So I put it off. And I also put it off because I think that if I can't devote a couple of hours to it then I shouldn't bother at all. Which is why the job isn't close to being completed.

I've mentioned Flylady before. I've adopted a lot of her common sense principles to good effect but one of the things I haven't heeded as much is her "15 minute" rule, to whit "You can do anything for 15 minutes". More than that, she emphasizes that once you've logged your 15 minutes, you're done. She encourages people to not stress if the whole project isn't completed right away. Which makes particular sense when you're talking about something like paperwork or ironing or some other quotidian task that's still going to be there tomorrow no matter what.

So I'm going to focus on that 15 minute thing...dedicating little chunks of time to projects that don't necessarily thrill me to the marrow but can't be ignored forever. Doing certain things every day for 15 minutes (like book-keeping) will necessarily result in having less to do over time. As for bigger projects, well, yes, the first thing my little devil voice said was, "You can't get a book done by only editing for 15 minutes a day". To which I replied, "15 minutes is a damn sight more time than I'm spending right now". What's the old joke...how do you eat a whale...one bite at a time. (Hopefully cream sauce is involved).

For additional incentive, The Neighbor and I have adopted a new ritual of sharing our daily accomplishments when we have our evening glass o' wine. Because we both have a tendency to focus on what we didn't do. This way, we celebrate what we have done, however small or insignificant it may be. And because we know we are going to be sharing it with someone else, it prods both of us to make sure we actually have something to share. Yay us.

So as long as a blizzard doesn't start or The Child isn't suddenly taken ill or The Dog doesn't run away from home, I may be able to have a "normal" day. And get something done.

(Nearly) Teenage Drama Queen: Epilogue

We all know what I was expecting. The Child would fail miserably, be humiliated and just possibly in the midst of such a tragic fall, learn a lesson.

She competed in 2 rounds. She ranked 2nd in both. She received terrifically high marks. She got affirming, fabulous comments. None of the judges said a critical lick about her presentation, only offering helpful hints for doing even better. In short, no crashing, no burning, no humiliation.

She floated to the car on the proverbial cloud of bliss.

I may be the worst mother in the world, but I am not going to be one of those parents who is so hell-bent on making the point that the bubble need be burst too soon.

So she glimmered and glowed and cooed for a bit. And I told her that I was very proud of her. Then, oh so casually, I began to share with her the conversation The Neighbor and I had about procrastination. ("What's that?" she asked. I gave illustrations from my own life. They are myriad).

And then, as gently and sweetly as I could I asked, "Given what I've just shared with you, is there anything you've learned today?"

"I learned that I can do pretty well!"

Not the answer we were looking for, was it? "Yes. You did very well and I am extremely proud of you. But Child, think about it. You ranked second without practising very much. What do you think would happen if you spent a little time every day on this?"

"OH!" Her eyes gleamed. "I could probably win an award!"

Ya think?

So I challenged her to spend 15 minutes a day on her speech between now and the next competition, which is in 2 weeks. And she accepted. In fact, she started practising right there in the car. A few minutes in she looked up and said, "Mom, I just love speech!"

Color me speechless.

(Nearly) Teen-age Drama Queen: Act, um, I've Lost Count...

The Child, being 12, is still working out the whole "priorities" thing. Yesterday morning she explained to me her "game plan".

"When I get home from school I'm going to do my homework and then practise, practise, practise my speech".

This was a good plan as she has a speech tournament today and was not super majorly prepared. This isn't entirely her fault; the disruptions of illness and snow meant she'd missed some speech club meetings. But she's still supposed to be practising on her own time and really only began in earnest this week.

Whatever, right? I am officially at the place of backing off and allowing her to sink or swim. I can nag but a) she is only going to hear that Charlie Brown "wha wha" voice and 2) she just has to start stepping up. Mama isn't going to follow along and clean up her messes forever. I figure that if she's not fully prepared and doesn't do as well as she could, well, that's how she's going to learn that you can't phone in these things.

Right. So I get her from school and turns out she has no homework. Excellent. More time to practise. We get home and lo, a phone call comes from a friend. To come over and watch a movie.

"What about your speech?"

"Well, AM and I practised twice today already. And I'll just run over for a while and then I can work on it".

"But you're making dinner".

"I know," (and that was not uttered in a benign fashion. It was a teenage "I know", full of drawn out vowels, rolling eyes and a tone of "could my mother be more annoying?"). "Mom, I will still have plenty of time".

I had two choices. I could have put my foot down, made her stay home and forced her to practise her speech. Never mind that doing so would have meant eating up valuable practise time with the inevitable shouting/door slamming/crockery heaving/invective slinging of a child denied her fun. So I opted for Door Number 2.

"Fine, go. I think it's an unwise choice but if you really think you can be prepared then go. Be home by 6:30".

Which she was. (I was having Friday night wine and deep conversation with The Neighbor but The Spouse was monitoring the situation). And she started the pizza dough. And then she sat down. To play computer games.

We have our pizza, we watch our movie and it's bed-time. It's also 11pm. And she realizes, with tears, that she's left the book, containing her speech, at her friend's house.

Would you like to know who is responsible for this?

Dad, for making her start the pizza dough, me for not typing out the selection earlier in the week. Dad, for telling her she shouldn't have taken the book out of the house in the first place, me for suggesting that had she practised when she got home like she'd planned....it went on and on. You know who wasn't responsible for any of this? Her.

Poor little pawn of fate.

I think she cried herself to sleep.

I got up at frakking 6:30 this morning (freaking out The Spouse who thought for one bleary moment that his alarm had failed to go off). I needed some time to myself before the potential drama of the morning ensued. I woke her at 7. She was going to try and call the neighbors in hopes someone would be up that early on a Saturday morning. If she could retrieve her book, fine. If not, she was going to have to forfeit and deal with the consequences.

She got her book, she's at the tournament and all is well. Or at least quiet.

According to Article 6, Section i of the "Worst Mother in the World Handbook" I need to ask her what she's learned from this experience. Where did I put that body armor?

Things I Wish

I would like to be Benevolent Dictator of the World. I would take on this job for a small stipend and a superfantastic tiara*. That's all. Countries could still even have their own leaders, provided those leaders were able to play nicely with others. If they couldn't, they would get a time out. I am tired of stupid leaders, tribal atrocities and global warming. Someone has to do something. I think I'd do a good job. Plus everyone would have all the applesauce cake and 80s music they wanted.

I wish that whenever The Child asked for the 412th time for some stupid thing that I'd already told her she couldn't have my head would convert into a large blue neon "NO" that would blink on and off until she stopped begging. (I am now convinced that she will become a lawyer and go to work for a big lobbying firm. This does not please me, but she is obviously gifted).

It would be nice to have a force field around the stovetop so that The Cat would bounce off of it whenever she tried to jump up to eat something that is thawing up there. (Getting rid of the cat is not an option, Charlie).

There should be new episodes of "Gilmore girls" and "Battlestar Galactica" every week, in perpetuity, until I grow weary of them. (There is a new episode of "BSG" on Sunday. I. Can't. Wait.)

I would like my neighborhood to stay exactly as it is except that it would look like a French village and there would be a fabulous boulangerie next door. A girl should be able to get pain au chocolat whenever she wants.

I want a pigmy goat. Also chickens.

I think that's everything.


* By the way, Neighbor. You know that superfantastic birthday party you're planning for later this year? Yeah. I really want a tiara. Totally serious.