Sunday, December 16, 2012
The bad guys got bigger guns, so the good guys got bigger guns.
They lived in fear and arrogance and prayed to a mythical god for answers because knowing there was a plan would make sense of the senseless.
And they sorted everyone into victims and perpetrators because it was easier than looking in the mirror and stating the only plausible explanation:
"I AM TO BLAME.
I think in terms of us and them instead of brothers and sisters. I think I am more important than my fellow man. As long as I value myself, my people, and my things above everyone else's, there will be no peace."
They all armed themselves and invited their own destruction instead of loving each other so that all would thrive.
They were a foolish lot and the earth sighed in relief when they were all gone.
Friday, November 30, 2012
Will I ever?
Perhaps a book...
Blog Posts I Never Wrote. Make people pay for something they probably didn't want to read in the first place. Brilliant!
As always, thanks to the four of you for your unwavering support. And as your payment, I leave you with this...
A little Sally Field Camel Toe! :)
Thursday, November 29, 2012
But I digress...
One of the things I love about Norfolk -- and one of the things that makes going to the grocery store unshowered and disheveled so darn inconvenient -- is that once you tap into the grid, you're likely to run into friends everywhere.
Sure enough, Girlfriend and I met another couple for dinner at a relatively-new fancy shmancy restaurant that happens to have discounted burgers on Thursday nights. Delicious burgers at that! And we weren't there too long before two of our friends walked in, followed by two others. Granted, I was wondering why I hadn't been invited, but that's beside the point. ;) How great to be able to see some missed friends and check in and throw some hugs around! I may run the risk of running into people at Harris Teeter when I'm looking my worst, but it's worth it to always see a friendly face when I stray from home.
Norfolk, you're gonna be ok. Keep striving to be better and we'll keep showing up.
Damn, those were some great burgers! I can't wait to go back. :)
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
The soothing strains of Vince Guaraldi's "A Charlie Brown Christmas."
Everything's going to be OK.
But what a slew of emotions this TV special brings about. I remember watching it at my paternal grandparents' house. Which means it was probably shown on Sunday nights in the 70s. We were often there on Sunday nights. Much to my grandfather, Charlie's, chagrin. He'd scoot his rocking chair up thisclose to the TV and cup his right ear so he could hear "60 Minutes" while everyone else in the room tried to speak quietly or not at all. Having since suffered the frustration of people talking through one's program, I now have a better understanding of his position -- both literal and figurative.
I'm guessing he watched Charlie Brown with us as well. He loved Charlie Brown and had some of the original comic collections from the 50s. I loved flipping through them.
Group dance scene is on. :)
Am I the only one who feels guilty about religion when I see this? Such conflict. It was all so much easier when so many of us dutifully went to church and believed the stories... Linus' speech still gets me square in the heart and soul, but...
I'm not sure where Christianity fits into the fabric of my life anymore. But since I was raised by a village of Catholics and Lutherans, it's still in the tapestry -- even if the tapestry's up on a wall, as a family heirloom.
Too many thoughts. And I want to shut this thing off and watch the show. So, until tomorrow...
"...and on Earth peace, goodwill toward men."
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
(it'd be great if I got paid by the word)
licking the couch and a blanket and her foot and nearly any other surface she comes across.
My brain exploded about 2 hours ago.
She really is sweet and cute. Approximately 2% of any given day. She began this day at about 4:50am, barking loudly in the same frequency as nails on a chalkboard. Brain was severed at that point. I had recovered from the barking by about 5:20, when I got out of bed, only to discover my dog ralphing as I was about to get into the shower.
Why do they hate us?
Monday, November 26, 2012
When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one person to dissolve the fat bands which have connected them with butter, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separation of one's mouth and fork, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that she should declare the causes which impel her to the separation.
I'm doughy, tired, and out of shape.
And I'm thinking I should get a jump on my New Year's Resolutions as a result. Herewith, my list of 2013 Resolutions (upon which additions may be made in the future):
1. Get more sleep.
2. Eat better.
3. Run more.
Soooooo simple. Except that means I should be in bed by 9pm. Rather, asleep by 9pm. Someone break the news to Rachel Maddow. One of her viewers has to go sleepy-time instead of watching her show. And it all starts there for me. If I get an appropriate amount of sleep, I'll feel more compelled to run and will make better food choices.
So really, this is all Rachel's fault. And Obama's. But the election's over, so the daily political commentary isn't as dire and/or funny.
Now if I can just get someone to hide my phone so I don't stay up past my bedtime playing Words with Friends.
Wish me luck!
Sunday, November 25, 2012
We arrived home late yesterday from our Thanksgiving trip to three breathing dogs, which was our primary goal. Our teenaged dog-sitter and her friend were gone, replaced by evidence of a Category 1 teenager tornado and an all-consuming odor of sour dog vomit -- whose source we could not locate. Thus began a few chaotic hours of sniffing, searching, scrubbing, vacuuming, and mopping.
And yet, 24 hours later, trace amounts of sour dog vomit smell persisted. It seemed to be localized to the little brown dog, but since she isn't one to throw up, we're still not entirely sure what happened. The larger spotted dog has been known to toss some yellow bile on occasion, but to my knowledge has never tossed it directly on the brown dog nor has the brown dog rolled around in it.
Brown dog just got a bath and the smell is finally gone.
A nanny-cam has been added to my list for Santa.
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Friday, November 23, 2012
Some leftover words from old blogs. Because I'm out of town and not really in a position to spend a lot of time on this. Remember, it's NaBloPoMo -- it doesn't have to to be good, it just has to be posted. ;)
Hope everyone enjoyed their Thanksgiving leftovers!
Thursday, November 22, 2012
I'm thankful for the opportunity to spend time with one of My Person's most important people -- her grandmother -- and to have watched them bake together.
I'm thankful for my mom, who no matter how far away, always seems to be on at least one page with me at all times.
I'm thankful for good friends -- ones I see frequently, ones I see infrequently, and the ones I only see online.
I'm thankful for health and happiness and employment and money to cover my needs.
And I'm especially thankful for My Person. For who she is. That she lets me love her and for her love of me. And for the SmartWool "Thanksgiving Socks" that she gave me last year and that with the ones I gave her last Christmas, we formed a tradition.
I'm thankful for the past, thankful for the present, and thankful for the prospect of a future.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
My beloved childhood vacation bungalow is set for demolition. And lo and behold, so is her motherly 'big house' in front. Not because of Sandy, but because of neglect and a recent property sale. I'll have to come to terms with the demolition of this special house, built in 1920, but in the meantime...
Thanks to Facebook I was connected with a woman who knows the new owners. And in my sadness over what is to come I had a moment of panicked clarity and asked for the house number on the big house. I was assuming it didn't mean much, if anything, to the new owners and suspected if it was just going to wind up in a pile of rubble that I should follow the advice of Randy Pausch and just ask for what I wanted.
Sure enough, they said, "Yes."
And now, even though the residents of Lavallette are dealing with far more important things, the plans are in place for the transfer of a very special house number to my mother, and if she will relinquish it, to me.
Happy Thanksgiving, indeed.
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Well, that may be true, but take a look at these kids. They look pretty contemporary and fresh-faced, don't they?
American Life: Rare Color Photographs During WWII
Monday, November 19, 2012
Those of us who are life-long fans have had some adversity with which to contend.
-- And it was here I was going to tell you how long it's been since we could open both ends of the Ocean Spray Jellied Cranberry Sauce can and gently push the cranberry sauce through the can until gravity took hold and sspphhluuuck the beautiful burgundy gelatinous mold would be deposited onto a serving dish -- only I can't find anything about it online. In fact, at least one person thinks that's the way it's still done!
About 5 years ago, maybe, a horrific change occurred. For whatever reason, Ocean Spray decided to create a permanent rounded seal on one end of the can, making it impossible for us to open it and gently push the tube onto a plate. Now we have to open one end and ever-so-gently slide a knife along the outside of the jelly in order to break the seal with the can. Then we turn it over and offer a bit of pre-Thanksgiving prayer. And we are thankful when that tart wonderfulness emerges from the can, but she's always got a nick or two, no matter how delicate you've been in your extraction efforts. The shame. She deserves better.
But once she's out, the party on your plate commences!
Once served, I personally like to cut my individual slice into a checkerboard pattern and eat each little piece separately. I believe Cranberry Sauce was the first thing I was allowed to cut with a butter knife. The independence! So exciting.
The leftover Cranberry Sauce is an integral party of my favorite Thanksgiving meal -- leftover turkey sandwiches. Mine are constructed thusly:
Two slices of rye bread. Add Hellman's mayonnaise to each. Cover one slice with a relatively thin layer of turkey pieces. No slices; too thick. Add a layer of refrigerated stuffing (STUFFING. Oh, that's a whole topic for another day). Then add two thin slices of Cranberry Sauce and the other slice of bread. Gently smush the whole thing together, allowing the Cranberry Sauce to create a much needed seal between the bread and stuffing (Yes, I know it's essentially a bread sandwich -- don't judge me!) so that the stuffing does not fall out of the sandwich during the inhalation process. Repeat as often as necessary or until resources are exhausted.
Fresh cranberries are fine. And I enjoy them -- I guess. But this Yankee wants her Ocean Spray Jellied Cranberry Sauce. We're going out of town this year and my wonderfully thoughtful girlfriend warned our hostess (her mother) that I'd be bringing my Cranberry Sauce. I'm pretty sure we still have an extra can from last Thanksgiving in the fridge. Can't keep fresh cranberry sauce for a year or two. Nope!
Long live Ocean Spray Jellied Cranberry Sauce! To the jellied revolution!!
Sunday, November 18, 2012
My maternal grandmother, Grace, was my buddy. She was beautiful and classy and annoyed her snarkier daughter and granddaughter by often saying, "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all." Maybe it was her attempt to just silence us completely, I don't know.
So I very rarely heard Grace say a negative word. But there were always a couple reserved for her pumpkin pies. They were beautiful and delicious and always wound up looking like this:
And Grace would tsk and cluck and mutter that the pie was ruined and she couldn't believe it split and they never used to split and she didn't know what she could do differently and on and on. And we would tell her that they split every time and they were supposed to and nothing was different and they were beautiful and would be delicious and no one cared.
I miss those pumpkin pies in their 70s' glazed ceramic pie plates...
So how fortunate am I that I awakened this morning to my girlfriend whipping a pumpkin pie together? When it came out of the oven, it looked like this:
That separation is from the Knife Test and not from any splitting. And I thought, "Oh hell, Grace is sputtering right now!" I told my girlfriend about Grace and her pies and was relieved as the pie cooled and eventually split. That's the "After" picture at the top of this post.
See, Grace? They always split. <3
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Friday, November 16, 2012
This is how a story was eked out to me on NPR very early this morning. I wasn't paying complete attention, but heard the gist of it.
"A flatbed truck was hit by a freight train yesterday in Texas.
The truck was operating as a float in a parade.
The float was carrying 20 Wounded Warriors when it was hit."
See? It sounds sick as I'm writing it, but I'm just twisted enough that I had to suppress an inappropriate grin as I realized what had happened.
I'm sorry for everyone involved, but COME ON.
[Before everyone starts yelling at me, I've supported Wounded Warriors and the USO over the years, so I'm not COMPLETELY callous. Just situationally, apparently.]
Thursday, November 15, 2012
For example, a woman -- only a few sentences into our strangerly exchange -- once exclaimed, "After the fifth time I'd been raped, I said, NO MORE. I'm not going through this ever again!"
Yes, that really happened.
Today's Captain Overshare Award goes to our traveling contract IT guy. He's an older man, very nice, and often contaminated with some sort of virus or bacteria. As such, it's always best to wipe down one's phone, computer, desk, and chair arm rests with a disinfecting wipe after his visit.
He had occasion to visit my cube today while I was at lunch. I thought he was gone when I got back until he busted me wiping down every exposed surface area on and around my desk...
I'm hoping he thought it was just because I knew he was sick.
He spotted a tin of Spam Lite ("Crazy Tasty!") that I won during a Beer Mile a few years back and we got to chatting. It went something like this:
"I won that during a goofy race my friend organized. I had to drink a beer, run a 1/4 mile; drink a beer, run a 1/4 mile; drink a beer, run a 1/4 mile; drink a beer, run a 1/4 mile."
"I don't drink beer. (Pats large stomach). This is all food. My wife's a wonderful cook. So was my mother. My mother made the best fudge. Do you like fudge?"
"I do!" (I'm still feeling guilty about his seeing me wiping down my cube, so I'm being extra friendly. Or just friendly. It's not how I usually roll at work. Or many places. And soon you'll see why.)
"Then come with me!" He scurries off two cubes away to the other computer he's trying to save and starts digging through his medium-sized Igloo cooler.
"Oh! I don't actually NEED any fudge, what with the holidays coming..."
Yeah. Forget it. I had to eat the fudge in front of him. And yes, it was delicious, but this guy is almost a complete stranger. But I didn't want to be rude. Like writing about him without his knowledge...
And from there, things got a little crazy. I pretty much just nodded and smiled from this point on:
My mother didn't give her fudge recipe to my brother Blank's wife or my other brother Blank's wife, she only gave it to my wife. My wife sits by the stove and stirs it, but if she has to go to the bathroom, I come over and stir it. My wife has to wear one of those CPAP machines at night and I only get about 4 hours of sleep because I have to keep getting up to go to the bathroom since I had prostate cancer a few years back. The tumor was the size of a softball and they said there were 3 things they could do: they could introduce the seed, but based on the size of it, they'd have to put so many in there that it would be dangerous; they could cut it out; or they could try radiation. When I had the radiation, Number 1 felt like burning and Number 2 felt like razor blades! When they went in to sample it beforehand, they used one of those things to examine me that they use on you when you get examined (gestures to his crotch area and then a little towards mine). The first time I had the sampling done I wanted to scream in pain and that was only 4 samples. The second time they said they were going to have to do it about 30 times and I thought, "Oh, no!" I don't know what the second doctor did differently, but it didn't hurt at all. He numbed it and then got right in there while the first doctor numbed it and waited a few minutes, so maybe that was it. [Here we went through a thorough breakdown of his health insurance and out-of-pocket expenses.] I had to get 4 hormone injections and they cost me $700 each! My doctor's finger was about THIS BIG (shows me his raised forearm, bent at the elbow).
It was here that I was finally able to walk away. There was A LOT more filler information, but the above includes the highlights. I thought one of my coworkers was in the cubicle I was leaning against and when I asked her about it later, she just started laughing. Yes, she heard the whole thing. And said that she hunkered down in her cube so he couldn't see her and suck her into the conversation!
Again, he's a really nice guy and he has to keep fixing these godforsaken computers we were issued last year and the fudge WAS delicious, but YOWZA.
You'll be happy to know that Number 1 no longer burns. I have no idea about Number 2.
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Because I think in potential tweets now.
I'm not proud.
Said tweet was along the lines of, "Wasn't able to run today, but my shivering has burned X calories per minute! I shiver faster than I run, so..."
I was kinda kidding, but decided to look it up. The first site returned on my internet search belongs to an organization whose founder has amazing athletic abilities -- some would say unnatural -- and so I'm sure the integrity of the information is sound.
According to Livestrong.com, shivering is "NEAT," or "Non-Exercise Activity Thermogenesis."
What's this, you say?? Non-exercise? Tell me more...
"NEAT refers to ways to burn calories without exercising. When you get cold, your muscles involuntarily tense and then relax to warm your body. When shivering, you can burn up to 400 calories per hour, according to the website That's Fit."
Oh good, they got the information elsewhere. ;)
400 calories per hour?! Thanks to the 40-degree air being pumped into my cubicle on a daily basis and the drop in outdoor temps, I should be a skeleton by spring. Sexy!
According to my calculations, I actively burned approximately 60 calories earlier today, totally wiping out the 5 chocolate chip, peanut butter chip, oatmeal cookies I ate yesterday.
And guess what? There are a bunch of other non-exercise activity thermogenesis activities that are non-exercise. Hell, just typing that nonsense must have burned a quarter-cal, dontcha think?
According to "A Few Unique Ways to Burn Extra Calories -- NEAT (Non-Exercise Activity Thermogenesis)" by Charles Stuart Platkin, the following are recommended in order to burn an additional 100-150 calories per hour:
- Laugh more (finding funny people should burn a couple hundred more calories as well);
- Stand up (actually standing, not stand up comedy, which burns far more calories if you're sweating and dying on stage than if people are laughing. Trust me. I was a lot thinner when I tried stand up comedy);
- Drink a cold glass of water (Glug, glug, glug. Give me a second, I'm exercising. Hydrate and feel the burn at the same time. Fantastic! Maintaining your correct body temperature requires your body to heat that water. Drinking 8 glasses of water a day burns 60 calories. Add in the trips to get water and then the trips to the bathroom and I can kiss my running shoes goodbye!)
One of the other recommendations is one of those treadmill workstations that I've wanted for a while, and I'd retain the running shoes if I could get one in my cube. I could even power my computer with it, but no one is interested in innovation or energy conservation where I work. They also talk about adding some steppers under your desk so that you can give yourself a seated step class every day. I really don't think I'm coordinated enough to pull that one off, but here's a link if any of you are interested:
Things That Make Farting Noises in Your Cube
If you search online, you can find some mini-steppers that can power your computer as well. Throw in some cymbals, a horn, chalk, and a British accent and you too can be Bert from Mary Poppins!
Monday, November 12, 2012
Just kidding. ;)
So how 'bout that Elmo? Hee hee hee hee that tickles.
WHAT THE F*CK?!
Is nothing sacred? I am trying desperately to calm my crazy ass down post-election and then this happens. I was JUST saying to my girlfriend the other day (think we were discussing the Petraeus resignation) that one of the reasons I like Obama is that I believe he's a genuinely good man. I believe that he is in love with his wife, treats her as a full partner, respects her -- and would never cheat on her.
Please, for the love of Big Bird, can he be the one guy that doesn't let everyone down?
Poor Elmo. His voice gets accused of having an affair with an underage young man and Elmo has to sit in a box during his voice's leave of absence.
Disclaimer: I blasted Jerry Sandusky, Joe Paterno, and Penn State all over Facebook and Twitter and would be doing the same about Kevin Clash (the voice o' Elmo) if the situation were similar. But I believe him when he says his accuser was of legal age when they hooked up. Which is 17-years-old in New York.
I know, right? It still seems a little........ Maybe it's because Mr. Clash was 45 at the time. Maybe it's because he's around children all the time. Maybe it's because he spends his days with his hand up a puppet's ass.
I don't know. But legally, it doesn't sound like he did anything wrong. Here, read this story:
Voice of Elmo Denies Sex w/Underage Boy
And just so we're alllll clear on the matter. So those of you who have a hankerin' for a young hunk of cheese will know when to keep your distance, herewith the Ages of Consent in Lotsa Places, even though the Wikipedia titles just says "North America."
Ages of Consent
Sunday, November 11, 2012
Let's see what one of the reviewers has to say:
Well, I've uploaded a picture of the review, but I don't know where it is within the blog post. lol! This may explain this app's 2.5 out of 5 stars average after 933 reviews... I'm going to have to publish this thing to see where the picture is. Fantastic. Why is it so damn hard to be recreationally entertaining/creative online in 2012?! I could do more on MySpace five years ago than I can do now on two spiffy Apple products...
That's my technology pep talk for the day. As you were. ;)
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Yes, lemons. Lemon anything makes me happy. And lemons -- not limes! -- in many a Corona Light and her mini-me, Coronita, has made me a happy girl over the years. I don't know if it was due to preference or personal citrus stock, but when Todd Johnston (NPHS Class of 1984 and a major 1983 crush of mine) gave me my first Corona many years later, it was with a lemon. I loved it and never switched.
It's caused me to do the same ridiculous gesture at Mexican restaurants for 20 years:
May I have a Corona Light with lemon please?
(server nods enthusiastically, albeit blankly)
Friday, November 9, 2012
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Firstly, if ever the country was going to adopt a Mission Statement (I mean, besides that ol' rag, the Constitution), I recommend the following, from last night's Rachel Maddow Show:
Ohio really did go to President Obama last night. And he really did win. And he really was born in Hawaii. And he really is legitimately President of the United States. Again. And the Bureau of Labor Statistics did not make up a fake unemployment rate last month. And the Congressional Research Service really can find no evidence that cutting taxes on rich people grows the economy. And the polls were not skewed to oversample Democrats. And Nate Silver was not making up fake projections about the election to make conservatives feel bad. Nate Silver was doing math. And climate change is real. And rape really does cause pregnancy sometimes. And evolution is a thing! And Benghazi was an attack ON us, it was not a scandal BY us. And nobody is taking away anyone's guns. And taxes have not gone up. And the deficit is dropping, actually. And Saddam Hussein did not have weapons of mass destruction. And the moon landing was real. And FEMA is not building concentration camps. And UN election observers are not taking over Texas. And moderate reforms of the regulations on the insurance industry and the financial services industry in this country are not the same thing as Communism.
Listen. Last night was a good night for liberals and for Democrats for very obvious reasons. But it was also, possibly, a good night for this country as a whole. Because in this country we have a two party system, in government. And the idea is supposed to be that the two sides both come up with ways to confront and fix the real problems facing our country. They both propose possible solutions to our real problems. And we debate between those possible solutions. And by the process of debate, we pick the best idea. That competition between good ideas, from both sides, about real problems in the real country should result in our country having better choices, better options, than if only one side is really working on the hard stuff. And if the Republican party, and the conservative movement, and the conservative media is stuck in a vacuum sealed, door locked, spin cycle of telling each other what makes them feel good, and denying the factual, lived truth of the world, then we are all deprived, as a nation, of the constructive debate between competing, feasible ideas about real problems.
Last night the Republicans got shellacked. And they had no idea it was coming. And we saw them, in real time, in real humiliating time, not believe it even as it was happening to them. And unless they're going to secede, they're going to have to pop the factual bubble they have been so happy living inside, if they do not want to get shellacked again. And that will be a painful process for them, I'm sure, but it will be good for the whole country - left, right, and center. You guys, we're counting on you. Wake up.
There's real problems in the world. There are real knowable facts in the world. Let's accept those and talk about how we might approach our problems differently. Let's move on from there. If the Republican party, and the conservative movement, and conservative media are forced to do that by the humiliation they were dealt last night, we will all be better off as a nation. And in that spirit...congratulations everybody.
I believe in Rachel's hope for our nation wholeheartedly, but I don't think the majority of Republicans are ready just yet. Bringing me to the second portion of tonight's post...
I've heard the following assessment repeatedly over the last 48 hours from the Republican talking heads. And even worse, from females in addition to the usual suspects: "We have developed a welfare culture where almost half of us are doing nothing but getting government handouts."
Yes, by all means, dismiss everyone who voted for President Obama's reelection as being on the dole. Of all my friends, coworkers, and family members who voted for President Obama, I can tell you that none of us is on welfare. Nor are any of us looking to be on welfare or hoping to live -- extravagantly, of course -- on government handouts. But damned if that isn't what they keep telling each other.
Here's a mindblowing suggestion for all of you Republicans -- who aren't actually reading this blog. ;)
If you don't want people to depend on welfare, educate them as children so that they have a better chance at succeeding as adults.
Educate people so that they may choose -- or invent! -- careers that have a demand and purpose in our world.
Educate people so that they are more likely to value their lives and their bodies and take better care of themselves.
Educate people so that they are less likely to have unexpected and unwanted pregnancies.
Educate people so that they can care for their children better and stop the cycle of poverty and abuse.
Educate people so that they can make better decisions for themselves and can become involved in their communities and government.
Educate people so that they are not afraid of change and can adapt to new technologies and realities of our CONSTANTLY CHANGING WORLD.
Educate people so that they don't fear those who are different than they.
Educate people so that they have the confidence to be their best selves and be productive members of society.
EDUCATE PEOPLE. Elementary, middle, and high schools should be training grounds for successful American citizens.
Ah, but you don't really want any of that, do you? You'd rather sit there and complain about all of the people you have no desire to help. You want them weak and poor and baby factories that are so distracted by their desperate need to survive that they don't notice you are exploiting them, your country, and your environment for your own disgustingly selfish agenda.
You are only interested in dominating those you deem less than yourselves.
But you've made a horrible miscalculation. Perhaps if many of you actually believed in evolution, you'd understand something called Natural Selection. Survival of the fittest. Change, adapt, evolve. The times, they are a-changin'. They have been all along. And instead of investing in the betterment of your fellow man, you've done nothing but try to keep us in our place. A place dictated by you.
Well guess what, my old white friends? Your days are numbered. And you had better pray to your God -- the real God, not the one you misinterpret to suit your needs -- that those you oppressed don't treat you as you treated them.
You do not deserve a shred of decency from this soon-to-be former minority. But you'll get it. Because you are rapidly becoming the past and we are not looking back. We are moving forward. This is America. It is in fact a melting pot. And if you don't like that, you are welcome to leave.
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Monday, November 5, 2012
YOU MAY BE AN OBAMA SUPPORTER IF
1. You believe women have a right to ultimately choose what to do with their own bodies.
2. You do not believe in forcing a teenaged girl with special needs who was raped by her grandfather to carry her grandfather's baby for 9 months and deliver said baby -- nor would you regard it as a "miracle from God."
3. You do not believe in tax breaks for corporations whose shareholders and CEOs siphon mass quantities of profit -- that are a result of those tax breaks -- from the corporations and into their pockets rather than letting the money "trickle down" to the workers.
4. You think the government should get out of the marriage business and leave it to the churches or that if the government insists on staying in the marriage business, it should change to civil unions and offer them up to any two consenting adults.
5. You believe the haves should help the have-nots.
6. You believe that your government has helped you along the way by providing you with teachers, law enforcement, emergency services, firefighters, infrastructure, safety regulations, etc.
7. You love the earth and its creatures and want to see them helped, preserved, and not exploited.
8. You believe education is important, in its many forms.
9. You believe if given the opportunity most people will excel and would like to see the initial playing field leveled.
10. You believe every United States citizen over the age of 18 has a right to vote and you would never limit someone's ability to do so.
11. You know that 6 - 4 = 2, no matter how you slice it. If you take from one place, you have to give to the other.
12. You don't lie to get what you want.
13. You think it's ridiculous that healthcare has become prohibitively expensive, with the insurance companies benefitting far more than the consumers.
14. You believe that one of the richest countries in the world must find a way to feed and clothe her citizens, preferably by giving them ways to become self-sufficient.
15. You are not threatened by people based on their color, gender, sexual orientation, or country of origin.
16. You are not threatened by intelligence and encourage it.
17. You do not impose your religious beliefs on others.
18. You are interested in the truth, no matter what it may be.
19. You believe in diplomacy, but recognize that force is sometimes needed. You do not believe in blowing up the rest of the world.
20. You trust that sometimes the President knows more than you do about a given situation and you're ok letting him (her, one day) handle it without criticism -- at least for the first 72 hours.
And if you're an independent, please find someone closest to your beliefs who has a chance of winning. Otherwise you're going to skew this whole thing. ;)
I have to go make my cookies for Obama Claus now!
*No offense to genuinely brain damaged people. If you had a month or a bracelet, I'm sure I'd throw some money your way.
Sunday, November 4, 2012
I don't mean to hurt anyone's feelings by unfriending them, I just choose to remove that negativity from my orbit.
Two people got deleted today over their comments concerning the Sandy recovery response. An old high school friend started ranting that we can send thousands of troops overseas at a moment's notice, so why does his brother still not have electricity...
Patience, not really an American virtue.
Another high school friend first bashed Obama for his "photo op" response and wanted to know why he wasn't doing more and then went on to agree with someone who said it's a good thing the Republicans fight for our gun rights so that we can arm ourselves and protect ourselves from looters after major disasters.
Oh.......where to start?
I'm not sure what part of this storm's destruction they're not understanding. I am 100% confident that EVERYTHING that can possibly be done is being done. Whole infrastructures need to be rebuilt in some places in order to return folks to normalcy. I'm equally confident that President Obama is doing everything in his capacity to help his fellow Americans. He cannot just snap his fingers and return everything back to Saturday, October 27th. To think otherwise is utterly ridiculous.
I know people are getting impatient and I understand. I lost power for a week after Hurricane Isabel and that was nothing compared to what most people are suffering following Sandy. I know any change to my routine gets old quickly, so I can only guess how over this everyone is. But being irrational, getting angry, and blaming the President isn't going to make anything happen any faster than it can. Things take as long as they take.
I'm also enjoying the scoffing towards other countries for not rushing to our aid. I'm not even sure they're not. We may just not know of it yet. But I can tell you that in many natural disasters, when Americans offer help, it's to countries that are far worse off than we are on a normal day. Haiti was hurting before the earthquake ever hit. The Haitians are not going to be able to funnel money to NY and NJ. Not because they don't want to, but because they can't. We as a country pride ourselves on helping others -- whether they be our fellow Americans or citizens of other countries. Can we PLEASE have a little class and remember that we donate to others out of goodwill and not with the expectation that the gesture will be reciprocated? And if you can't do that, then please, keep your damn money in the first place. Help others because it's the right thing to do, not because you expect something in return.
Saturday, November 3, 2012
Since I suspected this was some sort of weird Google-Apple fight, I checked to see if I could get Chrome for my iPad. And because I only know thismuch about computers, I wrongfully assumed that I could not get Chrome for iPad. Sure enough, there's an app for that. And now my blog is working on my iPad, via Chrome.
So now what the heck are we going to talk about for the remaining 27 days of November?
Perhaps an investigation of Norfolk's new bike lanes, which seem likely to decrease the number of bicyclists in Norfolk:
Yes, that's one of the new "bike lanes," smack in the middle of a "car lane." It seemed like some sort of trap to me. Here, bikey bikey bikey....BAM!
I did a quick google search. ("Google" is rapidly becoming this month's inadvertent blog theme.)
Seems this isn't an accident -- or an accident waiting to happen -- at all.
It's a "sharrow." According to Bike Norfolk, a sharrow is a "shared-lane marking... [that] is placed in the center of a travel lane to indicate that a bicyclist may use the full lane. The name sharrow is a portmanteau of share and arrow."
Surprisingly and perhaps disappointingly, portmanteau is not a wine.
Something tells me it's going to take a minute or two for these symbols to catch on. I have enough trouble surviving some of these streets on my Vespa, so I can only imagine what it's going to be like for a hairless, spandex shorts wearing man (or Danica) to just commandeer a full car lane in Norfolk. I'm hoping these flattened bike images aren't soon joined by flattened bike and flattened human images, in chalk.
By the way, the victory I spoke of above was short lived. I may have accessed my blog from my iPad, but I had to finish this bad boy up on the laptop again. All because of the photo. I won't go into it, but this teensy blog post took me about 2 hours, mostly due to the photo.
Oh! And trying to find a DONATE NOW widget to connect you fine folks to the American Red Cross. My searching was futile, so I just added a link to the top right. PLEASE donate if you can and then donate again in a few weeks. The people of NJ and NY are suffering and will be for quite some time. Any amount you can contribute will help and will be appreciated.
Thank you from a Jersey Girl. :)
Friday, November 2, 2012
Similarly, I used to have a site meter on my blog that tracked the number of visitors and other information and it suddenly crapped out on September 24, around the same time people started asking the Internet Gods (in vain) what the Blogspot error code I am now receiving (bx-g90x6h) means. Hmm...coincidence?
I emailed Site Meter, the host of my site meter (natch), about the problem and received an email saying my email had been received and would be handled post haste!
And then several days went by.
And then a week or two went by.
And then I remembered to check Site Meter and saw that nothing had changed. I responded to the customer service email and received one of those Mailer-Daemon bounce back emails. So I googled my problem (the irony!) and discovered that many people were posting a similar problem around the same time and that they had all received the same email I did, only to have no further action taken.
I've since given up on Site Meter and shut it down. Which I realize is like slamming a screen door when the main door is already closed...
Never fear, I can still track some information on my blog, thanks to some new features at Blogspot.
For example, I now know that of the top ten search terms that deliver people to my blog, #4 is "Sally Field cameltoe" and #7 is "Sally Field camel toe." You were wondering how we were going to get to this blog's title weren't you?
I was perplexed all around. Why are so many people searching "Sally Field camel toe"? Why are even more people searching "Sally Field cameltoe"?? And when on earth did I blog about Sally Field's camel toe?
So I googled "Sally Field camel toe."
I first discovered that google actually searches "Sally Field cameltoe." Is it one word? I would never have suspected. You'd think that camel toe would have a space between the two words, wouldn't you? Kind of like a...camel toe?
I then discovered that my lil' ol' blog shows up as the 7th search result. Not bad. The blog in question is here:
The Aging of Sally Field
Lemme know when you find the camel toe. It took me a second. The owner of the camel toe is always the last to know.
Thanks to my best friend, Lauren, for providing half of the two Top 10 popular search terms on my blog and may she and her family please get electricity soon! I'll cover Sandy and the Jersey Shore at some point, but in the meantime, please donate to the American Red Cross if you can. ANY amount will help! Go here ---> American Red Cross and thanks!
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Is it a bit of jealousy? Does my blog know that one of the reasons I've neglected it so much is that my attention has wandered to my iPad? The iPad that was obtained partially with the hope that I'd write more?
So there she sits. With her nifty bluetooth keyboard. Just like a laptop... Though useless for the next 30 days of NaBloPoMo. Or is it 31? Thirty days hath September, something something something. That's all I know.
Yes, friends, it's November. And as some of you know, NaBloPoMo is National Blog Posting Month, in which 25% of the nearly 83% of the human population who currently have a blog of some kind vow to post an entry every day for the month of November. It doesn't sound that difficult, but you'd be surprised. Clearly quality is not an issue as you've probably ascertained already, but still, just finding the time to bang on the ol' keys can be a problem. I failed last year, but I don't even remember why.
Which is one of the reasons that this year I'm considering combining NaBloPoMo with No Shave November! Whaddya think? Can I grow out these mutton chops to their full potential? End the month looking like I'm smuggling a member of ZZ Top in my pants?
Perhaps this would be a good time to point out that I'm female.
And in my forties.
So I've already begun the process of sprouting unacceptable quantities of hair in strange places.
Seems win-win to me. Perhaps a photo each day? Maybe a comparison to hirsute women through time? "Today I was all Frida Kahlo." "I'm hoping for Gertrude Stein legs by the 10th..."
This NaBloPoMo is gonna be a BREEZE. Right through my righteously fluffy upper thigh hair.
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
If you don't want people to dictate your reproductive rights, be MALE.
If you don't want to be denied the benefits of marriage, be STRAIGHT.
What rights have you lost or been denied today?
Probably none. Either tell us, "Sucks for you!" or DO SOMETHING about it. Use your undeserved advantage to help those who are oppressed.
Can you imagine a world in which we're all just HUMAN?
No stratification based on gender or race or sexuality?
Is it really so hard to envision?
What are you afraid of?
Monday, October 1, 2012
Anyhoo, I was just using the copier and heard her arrive in the room. She started telling a FASCINATING story to one of our Admin Assistants that went something like this:
“I was at the school for most of the day Saturday because we had a band competition. B stayed there even later and he called me around 10 o’clock that night and said, ‘What’s for dinner?’ I said, ‘B….I hadn’t planned on making anything for dinner.’ I just figured he’d have some of the Chick-Fil-A sandwiches they had in the concession stand. He told me, ‘OK Mom, don’t worry about it.’
He drove home a little while later and he comes in with 20 burgers and a bunch of Chick-Fil-A sandwiches. He ate most of them by the next morning.”
The poor Admin Assistant threw in a few “Uh-huhs” along the way, but she’s not getting this time back. And now, neither are you.
But I’d like to take this opportunity to thank God, Buddha, the Heavens, the Universe, everything that is Holy, wise, kind, and so very much smarter than I for releasing me from what was surely the stupidest mistake of my life!
I may turn this into a drinking game. Every time she mentions her kids out of the blue in front of me, I shall have a drink later that evening in her honor. I will laugh, I will smile, and I will raise my glass high and be thankful for how wonderful my life is now and how I have somehow – inexplicably – landed the most amazing woman as my partner. <3
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
So sayeth the misogynist with this record:
How Would a Vice President Paul Ryan Affect Women?
Thursday, August 2, 2012
And if you're curious, this is the link that was posted. I could no longer get to it this morning, so hopefully it's back up when you're reading! www.perrynoble.com/2012/08/01/ben-jerrys-chic-fil-a-political-correctness/
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Aunt Jo & Uncle Ken (originally published on February 27, 2012) You know you’re close to your family when your doctor asks if there have been any deaths in your family, you say your uncle just died and when she asks, “How?” you’re not entirely sure. I looked puzzled for a second and then said, “Old age? He was 92…” This seemed to satisfy the doctor, but I realized in that split second that I didn’t really know…and was embarrassed.
I don’t really consider myself actively estranged from my father’s side of the family, but there it is. My Uncle Ken, who passed away last weekend, was one of my paternal grandmother’s brothers. And while that man was in my life, or I in his, I adored him. He was smiles and tattoos and tobacco to me when I was growing up. And in the complicated environment that was my father’s family, smiles in my direction were not always plentiful. So his were doubly appreciated.
He was married to my Aunt Jo, a woman whose height I surpassed around the age of 7 but whose enthusiasm I may never match. I was greeted by her the same way every time: she’d clasp her hands in front of her chest and then throw them upwards (perhaps downwards for the first six years of my life) and proclaim, “AMY!” with more love and happiness than any child ever deserved. And then I’d be hugged within an inch of my life by Aunt Jo and Uncle Ken.
As I got older and became privy to family gossip (some true; most exaggerated, I imagine) and fell victim to teenage angst (some reasonable; most exaggerated, I imagine) I began to look at my father’s family members differently. There was a divorce and loyalties and the foolish notion that time was endless and people could be taken for granted. The end result? I didn’t see my family much. But on the few occasions I saw Aunt Jo and Uncle Ken, they welcomed me the same way.
Their daughter, MaryBeth, was my favorite babysitter when I was a wee snot. I thought she was the greatest thing in the world. We reconnected around the time it became legal for me to drink and started going out on occasion. We even wound up on the same bowling team. Things were done and things were said and we haven’t spoken in about 20 years...
Aunt Jo passed away in relative secrecy in 1996 from cancer. She didn’t want anyone to know she was sick. I have to assume it’s because she wanted everyone to remember her as that ball of energetic happiness. And so, I never got to tell her how much she meant to me or say goodbye.
Surely, I would do a better job with Uncle Ken.
Alas, Uncle Ken moved in with MaryBeth about 13 years ago and I think I’ve seen him only once or twice since then. I’m sure it was at funerals.
I almost always saw Aunt Jo and Uncle Ken at my grandparents’ house. It seems there was something going on almost weekly. Someone’s birthday or milestone or rite of passage. Whatever it was, it called for a gathering backed by a cold cut platter and hard rolls. My great Aunt Rhoda and her husband, Kiel, and until she passed, my great grandmother, Gram, lived next door to my grandparents. So it was fairly easy to get everyone together – half the people lived next door to each other.
I think about those times and I want to apologize to my deceased father. I failed miserably at keeping up my side of the bargain. See, as best I can tell, you have to show up. You have to stay involved. I think a good number of the next generation has done that, but I haven’t. I had Christmas cards going for a spell, but so many of them to MaryBeth (and Uncle Ken) went unanswered that I finally stopped sending them.
I probably could have done more to see him. But to not try seemed less painful than being actively ignored or turned away. It’s all so awkward. As my grandmother once said – and I was blissfully too young to understand – “Sometimes it’s best to leave things alone.”
Maybe if I lived closer. I don’t know.
My mother has reconnected with my father’s sister and her “kids” (both adults, one with two kids of his own). They’re all getting together rather frequently now and include me at the holidays. And I typically have some form of anxiety attack when it comes time to see them. I don’t know who they are anymore. I’m not entirely sure how to hold my own weight conversationally. I feel like an outsider looking in. I know I put myself here, but it’s still a strange place to be. Especially when I remember what it was like at all those gatherings when I was young.
Maybe Aunt Jo and Uncle Ken just spoiled me. They should have warned me that very few people would welcome me with open arms and an exuberant, “AMY!” just for existing. As you get older, you’re going to have to offer something up – often times, children will do. Nope, don’t have those. I’m a bud-less branch on my family tree…
I received a last minute invitation for Uncle Ken’s 90th birthday party. Had I known earlier, I could have gone. I would have gone. But I didn’t.
And so, I never got to tell him how much he meant to me or say goodbye.
I’m glad Aunt Jo and Uncle Ken are reunited. As you can see, I think of them as a single unit. But I’m so very sorry I never got to thank them for loving me.
I’ve missed them both for years now. I always will.
Hopefully Uncle Ken will take my Dad fishing. I know he’d love that! <3
Posted by AJ at 4:48 PM
Bert said... AJ - I am sorry for your loss. Your story touched me (perhaps I will write back one day...I guess many of us have similar, complicated families). Be well.
(and I still need to find out what happens with Roth)
February 28, 2012 8:43 AM
AJ said... lol -- I realized when I came here to post the story that I hadn't written Part 2! Such a slacker...
February 28, 2012 9:18 AM
glo said... Aww! How sweet. I'm with Bert. Many of us have this kind of story, especially those of us with deceased parents. They are our link to the older generation. Once they are gone, it's hard to keep the relationship going. It feels like work and just seems easier to establish friendships with people our own age that we see more often. Hence, I'm commenting on your blog and not calling my family. And I came here looking for something about Woody!
March 10, 2012 7:23 AM
Adrienne said... I was looking for the bones that make up the cranial vault in a human and landed here. I figured since I was I may as well read a little and noticed that your story about your Aunt & Uncle could have been written by me if I had the talent or inclination to blog. So, thank you for sharing something that many of us struggle with. Nice to know I'm not alone in the limbo generation.
March 15, 2012 11:18 PM
AJ said... Thank you for commenting! I typically only hear from my friends. :) Inclination, yes. And time. But if you read more of my posts, you'll find it doesn't take talent. ;) There was a time I could have rattled off the bones of the cranial vault for you, but that was when I was pre-med, what seems like many lifetimes ago. :)
March 16, 2012 11:26 AM
Monday, April 16, 2012
I understand evolution and survival of the fittest. I know the goal is to produce healthy members who survive into adulthood and reproduce. There’s an actual biological imperative to it and it’s not just the obsession of Jewish mothers. But I have to wonder, if the animals had the ability to care for everyone, would they? How can we turn our backs on people who never asked to be here in the first place? You’re born, but you have no say in the matter. You’re just dropped off (out) and expected to fend for yourself. You’re expected to become a productive member of society, yet so many people have no idea what that looks like or how to get there. And a good percentage of our country thinks you should just rot as a result.
I don’t want to be taken advantage of by anyone either. I know there are people out there who are just working the system and are expecting us to take care of them. But there are far more people who genuinely need some help and could thrive if given the chance. How can we as a society turn our backs on them?
The folks who have been born into good fortune and want to keep it all for themselves should be ashamed. You don't have to share your time, your money, or your expertise, but you should.