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Thursday, February 19th, 2009
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Greetings,
My name is Karen L. Dolley, known in the Dorsai as Vicious. I had the pleasure of meeting Furp’s family when he was back from Kyrgyzstan. I drove up from Indianapolis and picked him up in Chicago to bring him home. Ahhh…the memories of wandering the mystic Cheese Castle will stay with me forever…kinda like the cheese. I remember giving him hell for yelling at his mother because she had dropped a jar in HER kitchen and he was afraid it would wake me up. Oh that protective minx.
I first met Furp at Anthrocon. He would sit in ops waiting for the next victim of stupidity to need aid. We hit it off well as I knew enough medical that he could geek out about new medical technology or procedures and I would understand the significance. He also seemed to appreciate that I knew it wasn’t just sadistic glee that had him make a barely mobile drunk “client” chew aspirin and swish it with water. Yes, it was probably extremely disgusting for the drunk, but it was a good way for the aspirin to absorb into his system through the cheeks and gums. Whole tablets in the stomach would come back up too quickly and cause more irritation. There was always a method to his sadistic madness that showed a fantastic ability to think out of the box. All the while he would crack jokes and, let them know with sardonic frankness why what they did was by and large, pretty foolish and preventable.
And I have to respect anyone that can make Rene, Doc and myself cringe with a comment.
As I was driving home today I thought about how he used to text and call me from around the world. He said he was trying to get me on a Home Security watch list. Ireland, Iraq, Germany, France, Canada, DC, WI, MI, CA, Kyrgyzstan, Turkey, CO, PA…My co-workers had to ask what was going on the day I exclaimed, “What are you doing in France!”
He would also occasionally drunk dial me. This is traditionally done at 1-2 AM. I was as amused as he was that when he was overseas this would be 5 PM my time. And getting those calls or voicemails “from the fuuuuuuuuture” always cracked me up.
I just spoke to him on Tuesday night. He was geeking out about the stuff he was getting for his place. He was wanting to get a Kenmore stand mixer and Iw as telling him how it was the most manly kitchen gadget because it was a power tool with a motor more powerful than a Prius. We discussed getting a larger pan for stir fry, too. And uncharacteristically, 10-15 minutes in he had to end the call because he had to do something in the store. It was always hell to get off the phone in under an hour with him.
And so to in life were things brought to such an abrupt end. I am devastated that my partner in crime is gone, taken by somebody who made a stupid choice to drive drunk. I think the guy who did this should be forced to read the memories so many people from so many different places write now.
I had been thinking about how Furp told me the reason he was doing the contracting was so he could subsidize his dream to be a full time paramedic. Maybe some of us can start a scholarship. Wouldn’t be the first I’d been involved with. He put himself in harm’s way so that he could afford to save others. Therein lies the biggest tragedy in all of this. Sure we lost a friend, brother, son and alibi. But the world lost a man that had such a passion to heal and help that he risked everything to be able to do it. And he did it all with a smile and a joke. The loss of such a person in this world that at times seems so full of selfish asshats (that’s for you, buddy); that is what I mourn the most.
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Comments: Read 4 or Add Your Own.
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Tuesday, January 20th, 2009
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My Sister-In-Law sent me this:
Knowing Meghan...you all know this is the blow by blow of this conversation and not elaborated....
In the car on the way home from rock climbing Meghan asked "Mom, yesterday Jacob said Obama was proud to be President today because yesterday was Martin Luther King Day. Why is he so proud of that?"
I had to stop and think....how do I explain this to a 5 year old. I asked her if she knew why it was so historic that Barrack was becoming President.
She answered "Well, he's the first African American President."
"Do you know what that means?"
"Not really Mommy!"
Hmmmm........"Well, his ancestors came from Africa, like a lot of people who have skin that's dark like his. And there were people in this country who treated people with different skin colors different. They wouldn't let them do things just because they looked different. Martin Luther King did a lot of work in this country to make sure everyone gets treated the same. So, because of all his work it's possible for Obama to be President now, that's why he's proud." Huh, good job Mom! poignant yet to the point, she'll get that......
"Grammy has dark skin when she comes home from Florida...is she African American?"
"No sweety, just tan"
"Oh, then she can't be president!"
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Comments: Read 1 or Add Your Own.
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I felt I had to join millions of others around the world and write something on this momentous day in history.
As I headed to work I got the Scorpion’s song “Winds of Change” stuck in my head. I know we as a nation can in no way compare what we have been going through with the generations of hardship the people of the Soviet Union have lived through, but still, the words just fit today:
“The world is closing in
Did you ever think
That we could be so close, like brothers
The future's in the air
I can feel it everywhere
Blowing with the wind of change
Take me to the magic of the moment
On a glory night
Where the children of tomorrow dream away
in the wind of change”
It was kind of quiet at work today. I know several decided to take it off so they could watch the inauguration. I was kind of jealous…the first time I’m actually wanting to watch and I have to be at work.
So I went about doing my job, but as noon approached I started to get almost giddy. I finally decided that I have a lunch break, I might as well watch on-line. Seems a lot more defensible than the co-workers who watch the Final Four Tournament on-line (Remember, March in Indiana is basketball season…The movie Hoosiers does not begin to give you the flavor of how important basketball is to this land of corn and rusted out cars).
So I watched, getting choked up at times. I noted the gleeful look of anticipation on Bush’s face. There’s a man I’m sure is more than happy to pass the job on.
As Aretha Franklin belted out My Country Tis Of Thee I thought about an African American woman almost being denied the chance to sing at an inauguration so many years ago. Now we take such things for granted.
I thought about the mix up in the oath. I was sure later people would make comments about “He jumped the gun even in his oath” and “He even screwed the oath up!” How many people would know that Edwards flubbed it? I had sympathy. I and many others flub wedding vows. Pressure does that to you. And I can see Obama wanting to say it as written. If he didn’t I’m sure some wingnut would throw a lawsuit claiming that since he didn’t say it precisely as written that he wasn’t really president. I also had a bit of Hoosier pride since Edwards hails from Indiana.
I can’t recall there ever being such a feeling of celebration with an American inauguration. I certainly can’t think that it’s ever been celebrated around the world in such a way. I read today how black Iraqis were looking at Obama’s rise as inspiration for them. They have hope even though in their country, no matter the occupation they are called ‘slaves.’ Who’d have thought the election of an American president could have such an effect?
And of course his address was outstanding. He spoke of uniting us as a people. It’s what we are going to have to do to get anything done. “A house divided” etc. etc…
He spoke of not apologizing for our ways to radicals who in the name of religion say we are the cause of all the world’s ills and must be eliminated.
He spoke of working with other countries for a common goal of peace and prosperity and fighting the cowards who try to get their way through fear and violence against the innocent.
He spoke of how we, as a people, will have to do a lot of the work. Government can help, but ultimately, we are the people that make things happen. That doesn’t sound like handouts to those who will not do the work.
And he spoke about how we should not sacrifice our Civil Liberties in the name of security, not quite paraphrasing Franklin’s “Those who are willing to sacrifice their basic liberties to assure their security deserve neither.”
He was as inspiring as ever. Then again, I’m convinced he could read a grocery list and a bread recipe and inspire the masses.
I thought about some of the things I’ve been hearing around the diner from some of the hard-core Republicans and Indiana/Kentucky lifers. I know some of it comes from the fact that, unlike me, they have lived in a time when African Americans were second class citizens (at best). None of them would move away from the counter if a black man sat there. They all have black friends. But to listen to them there’s still a deep feeling of unrest.
None of them were at the diner tonight. I asked the waitress if she thought they were in their bunkers, waiting for the new, big, bad liberal, socialist president to send his hoard of black men out to take their guns and drop off their Federally approved copy of the Koran.
The election came and went and there were no riots. Today there were no riots. Sooner or later, like the groundhog, I’m sure they will see what is obvious to those of us born after the 60s. It’s just a skin color, man.
And I thought about what I would say if I hear them grumble. I know some of them in their hearts actually want Obama to fail so they can be proven “right.” What the hell sort of hope is that?
Like it or not, Obama was their candidate just as McCain was mine. He may not have been the candidate they voted for but when you run for office you are the candidate of the people. And whoever wins is your candidate. And that candidate becomes your president. His successes and failures are felt by all of us. To wish failure on your president is to wish hardship on yourself.
When Bush won both times I didn’t pray, “Please, God, please let him screw up so I can say ‘Ha Ha! We were right!!!”
No…I prayed, “Please, God…please prove me wrong! Please let him succeed and lead this country in the correct direction.”
I’d like to think that the reason God let things get so bad was because sometimes you have to let your kids stumble and hurt themselves in order for them to get the lesson straight in their heads. And as someone who has suffered some pretty hard setbacks, I can attest that when things get better they are so much more sweet. If we don’t have hardship from time to time we cannot appreciate success quite as much.
I know it won’t be long before people are whining that he hasn’t done anything. Probably within the month. It never ceases to amaze me how people think stepping into a leadership role doesn’t mean everything changes in a snap. Leadership of a country, state or city is much like tending a forest. Even if you do some drastic changes like cutting or planting, it takes some time for the outcome to be noticeable. Our problems are not small. There are no easy solutions. If there were easy solutions they would not be problems. It will take time to make a dent. I just hope people remember that.
So I join with millions around the world tonight and wish President Obama the best of success.
And in keeping with my wind theme I will quote Dillon, “The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind. The answer is blowing in the wind.”
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Saturday, January 3rd, 2009
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And as if that's not bad enough, Kerry Khun got me on this egg hunt game. GARRRRRR!
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Comments: Read 3 or Add Your Own.
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Friday, December 5th, 2008
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So Jeff and I broke up a week ago. He just couldn't take control of his life from his emasculating, overbearing family...who hated me...I think because I didn't have the same DNA.
Any how, I go into this weekend, my first "single" weekend in a year or so and realize that the only difference between this weekend and the weekends since Late July is I KNOW I won't be seeing or hearing from Jeff.
At the end of July his sister had some strange meltdown. She claimed, among other wild accusations, that I was screaming and hollering at her.
Jeff knew this wasn't true. I don't tend to do that. When you get to screaming you and they aren't listening.
Anyhow, I decided to step out of the relationship for a few weeks because his kids were getting caught in the middle. Split loyalties are evil and I wouldn't be part of subjecting them to it. They liked me but around Jeff's family the daughter would act up.
But after the few weeks things hadn't improved. It fell to me seeing the kids once a month. It was kind of like being a cat, taunted with a toy and repeatedly yanked away. I've wanted a family so badly. Yet again it was in my grasp and yanked away.
Then I would see JEff less as he got his new house ready and he would repudiate all offers of help wanting to do it himself.
So...if he can't stand up to his family, can't ever see me, won't bring me to the house because of his mother, stops calling and won't let me take part in his life I guess we are pretty much not dating. Not calling or showing up on Thanksgiving to my fully cooked meal didn't help things.
And I'm finding that though I am a bit sad I'm ready to start looking soon already. It's not because I didn't/don't love Jeff, but more because after 5/13 months of essentially not having any time togther, the intimacy is shot.
I mentioend it repeatedly and what I would get was, "I can see why you would feel that way."
Okay...so fix it. I'm low maintenance, not no maintenance.
But I get it...I'm smart, funny, generous, loving, independent, talented, hard-working, creative, and a slew of other positive adjective...what guy would want to tap that, especially if he has two kids?
So I'll probably be single forever. It pains me that I most likely won't have that family of my own. But if I am, so be it.
I haven't been looking for a mate because I need one. I've been doing it because I want one.
And perhaps the next guy will have a little more in common with me, have a little easier time understanding me, and have more time to actually meet my friends.
A cute ass wouldn't hurt, either.
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Sunday, November 23rd, 2008
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I've been asking Jeff for 2 weeks what was up for Thanksgiving. He's been trying to settle his new house. Wednesday night I asked him if he wanted me to cook. He said to ask him on Friday.
Tonight he told me that his brother and sister-in-law will be serving dinner at their place.
The unspoken part is I'm not welcome there because his family still thinks I'm Satan.
I'm thinking I'm reaching the end of my "understanding" for the difficulty of dealing with a nuts family and settling into a new house. He had an opportunity to accept my offer to cook or come up with something to include me in this family holiday, but he decided to hold out and find out what his family was doing, leaving me hanging.
I think after dating for over a year, particularly when he invited me along last year --something i turned down since we'd only been dating for 1 month--I should have a right to feel crappy and hurt by this.
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Sunday, November 16th, 2008
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It's good to be the victim when you are helping Homeland Security.
So I volunteered to help with a Homeland Security Disaster Drill this weekend. A weekend with no cooking, travel and excitement!
We left the State Fairgrounds in a heavy drizzle at around 5 pm on Friday. About 2 hours later we arrived at the Maskatatuck Training Facility, a former mental institution in southern Indiana. How appropriate.
It was a dark and rainy night when a busload of strangers arrived at the old mental hospital...it was like the start of a bad horror movie.
The communication to the drivers was a little chaotic. We drove around the facility a bit. Meanwhile the other civilians were getting restless. I found that a bit annoying. It wasn't like we'd been on the bus for 5 hours. The guy even stopped halfway there so people could hit the bathroom and smoke. God forbid we go more than 45 minutes...
We checked in, got our badges and maps then back onto the bus to be brought to the chow tent.
By now it was really starting to rain and the temperature was dropping. We got into the tent and thankfully they had the warm air blowers running. We got fried bread with apple butter, green beans, chicken cassarole and fried chicken. Tea and water were available to drink. Pretty good for a field operation.
We sat down and various people gave us presentations on different topics. We got to learn ann about pandemic flu and how we could help avoid it through social distancing and washing our hands. We learned how in the event of a PF the Health Department would shut down schools, State offices, and hopefully other offices, would turn back employees with symptoms and how it would come in waves.
We also learned that we should have 72 hours of food and water. No mystery to me. Then we learned about the various civilian groups we could join. I am interested in CERT, Civilian Emergency Response Team. I think I would have a lot to offer from on site help to data organization.
After that we went to the barracks. I thought the accomodations were pretty cush. They had told us that we would be on cots and to bring WARM bedding. I imagined canvas cots in an unheated gymnasium. Female barracks were heated...too warm, really, 2-3 to a room on actual beds. And I never once had to hit pota-jakes.
But sure enough one person, the gal from my museum studies class who called me Sara Palin before a debate oddly enough, said it was the most depressing place she'd been. I told her it could be a lot worse.
"Where? Ukraine?"
"Hey...look...there's nice wallpaper boarder paper...this is spif!"
She was hungry since she is vegetarian and there had been nothing to eat. (eyeroll)
I ended up bunking with a really nice girl from IU. We talked about politics and travel and small world occurences like when she came to Indiana from Xavier (post Katrina) and met a friend of her roomate at Xavier.
She hit the hay and I went out to talk with others. Turned out I had a co-worker from a different floor there. Oddly it turns out she had met Greg before in the SCA...and probably me. Small world.
Woke up bright and early at 6:30 and headed to the mess tent. Fried bread and apple butter, scrambled eggs with peppers and onions, sausage and ham. Coffee and OJ. Again...better than what I would expect.
We had a brief "thanks again, here's what to expect" orientation including the safe word "not 'Armageddon!'''
The we picked up our blue victim shirts, got our lunch, a hot box lunch, and got our roles.
I almost chose to do police scenarios but remembered I was just feeling better from my C-3 freezing and thought possible rough handling might be bad. I also felt the medical staff probably get less training in this type of thing so I opted for that.
At first I was going to be a concerned son. Well...okay...it's been long said I have bigger balls than most guys. Then I picked up a victim role:
I was to play a 7 year old girl going into anaphylaxis. Cool! I got makeup...gel like stuff to represent the hives. They couldn't manage the swelling of the face and lips and I opted out of being punched to make it look good.
The REAL bonus was the vomit. Yeah...how often do you get to say or hear that?
They gave me a Capri Sun bag of "vomit" made of oatmeal, coke and parmesan which added to the heady aroma.
I went back to check in to give them some extra scenarios, including my concerned son role, and got to see some of the nursing students arrive. Gah! Full makeup and hair...like they were going clubbing. Then they asked if they had to wear the blue shirts. Then I heard them lamenting the 1400 calories in the lunches. (eyeroll)
I lost count of how many people I told that the civi heater box lunches were not just like MREs. They are much better.
We then went off to our first staging area. Then we went off to another staging area. I found a mom...well...somebody to play my mom and we got permission from the controller to change things up a bit. She was supposed to be a mom with a baby. We changed it to I would get lost in the ER and she would be looking for her "baby" who was in fact 7. Kinda like something that happened at Anthrocon one year...
So finally it was time for us to go so "mom" and I and my bag-o-vomit went off to the hospital. We were met at the door by an administrator telling us to go stand in a triage line outside in the cold rain. I was wheezing, had a rash and was losing conciousness while mother yelled I needed help. They got security to point the way to the tent.
I hoping in the event of the real thing the actual presence of swelling face and lips would have elicited a more prompt response. As we walked to the triage line I mentioned in the real world that would have been my death sentence.
As we waited in the rain we saw some being turned away. They were told they weren't sick enough. Sure as shit they didn't have the masks on they were given as they came and told their friends they were told to leave. Some walked out with triage cards.
We got in the tent and I started acting again. Loud wheezing while mother screamed I was dying. They sent us on to triage 2 where we kept it up and I started to pass out. They directed us immediately to the hospital without a triage card.
We entered the ER and I peeled off from "mother." I wandered into the waiting room where few were sitting and thought about what a child would do. I found a corner near a chair, curled up with my head against it and started wheezing and calling mommy loudly.
Got a cop's attention immediately. He came up and asked if my mommy came here with me. I said yes. Where was she? Mommy...
I pretty much responded to every question from there with "MOMMY!" and more wheezing.
He got a nurse and I was admitted. As they started leading me to the room I let fly the vomit. It was spectacular! It was like any child explosion. The in-house photographer was snapping pictures while people cracked up at my performance.
The nurse who worked on me actully asked if they had thrown the stuff on me. I told her I did it. She was pretty grossed out. Guess she wasn't expecting that level of realism.
She asked me some questions and I of course responded with "MOMMY!" I did manage to tell her that my blood pressure and heart rate were dropping, but my respiration rate was raising and labored. She tried to to grab my scenario card I held onto it. They aren't allowed to see them.
The doctor came in and I listened to what she had to say. Fortunately I know enough medical to recognize the meds. They "gave" me an epi/benedryl/saline cocktail. I stopped wheezing.
They asked me if I was feeling better and I asked her to repeat what she'd pushed to make sure. Then told her yes. I played sleepy from the benedryl.
I did consider walking away from the bad when they weren't watching me but considered I would be hooked to IVs in real life. They asked me if I ate anything and I told them cookie. In the scenario it was a cookie with peanuts.
I listened to them deal with an HIV patient next to em, then a diabetic with sugar issues.
"Mother" walked in and I yelled "mommy" again. She yelled at them because I had vomit on me and they hadn't cleaned me up. She demanded I be admitted. I scratched my "rash." They administered more benedryl. I stopped scratching.
A man with stage 2 lung cancer came in shaking and coughing. The nurse picked up that the guy really had a cough in the real world. He had had lung cancer and had only 42% of his lungs. Told her it was a good catch.
Then a guy playing an asshole came in. He was freaking out and asking if I was contageous. I think he was supposed to be the bi-polar off his meds. Security escorted him out.
They admitted me. We went down the hall then were loaded onto an elevator. When we got to the 2nd floor there was nobody there to greet us but a few other confused patients. Mother went to the bathroom and I started crying again. A passing nurse asked what she looked like and I told her mommy. Then she asked what her name was and I told her mommy. I'm good at this game.
Mother came back and I shut up. They led us down a hall to a room. They checked on us two more times and said they were going to release us soon. That was the last we saw of hospital staff dealing with us.
In the mean time more waves hit the hopsital but I guess they never got the numbers to really overload. We had a room to ourselves with 2 empty beds. There was nobody in the hall.
At one point they came in and 2 State troopers cleared the room across the hall. Turned out the governor of Death Valley (the name of our town, hee hee) collpased giving a speech. They put him on a ventalator and gave power to Lt. Gov.
The only other excitement was when a druggie looking for drugs came running down the hallway running from security. The older trooper caught her no problem, 29 years on the force lets you do that.
Sat up there for 3.5 hours doing nothing. I looked out a window and saw a huge line of emergency vehicles leaving and people leaving the hospital and getting on the bus and I mentioned it.
They had forgotten we were in the wing and the drill was over early. Seems some of the emergency staff needed to boot north because of the weather.
We had a final chat where some folks gave input but it was in an echo-filled gym so we couldn't hear much.
One person mentioned that the sheet she had been given explaining when to return to the hospital was a joke and that none of the staff could answer her quesitons. She said in a real situation that would not work. I agreed. Not everyone is going to be able to read that paper. They might be illiterate. Then I wondered if they had any foreign language only victims. I may add that to my follow up comment sheet.
We headed home with the bus driver flooring it. Another bus passed us and I yelled to "run him up into the wall!"
He said we were mean.
Then the bus tried to get around somebody and a car sped up so he couldn't get out so we blocked traffic out for the bus and yelled "Ain't Skeered!"
There's always a reason to use racing language in Indiana.
So I got in at 6 PM yesterday and I'm still tired. Tired enough that I won't spellcheck this so deal.
Turned out some other goings on on the site were:
Protest by chicken lovers.
Riot at the jail of prisoners wanting to be separated from sick prisoners.
Jail break.
Sick families in houses.
Hostage situation in hospital.
Patients included pandemic flu in various stages and various aged people, miscarriages, heart attacks, anaphylaxis, cancer, diabetes, baby deliveries, general anger at a neighbor's dog, gatroenteritis, broken limbs, AIDS, asthma attack, and drug use.
It was a lot of fun even though a bit of communication issues and organization problems. The site was awesome. It's used by other states to do training. Here's a link
http://www.mutc.org/
I plan on talking to the HSD oraganizer to see if I can help in future drills both as actor and support. I can see they could use good paper organizers and data people. And I I'm always game to throw vomit though next time I may sneak in some mint scent.
And one thing it did for me is now I am hyper-aware of people's actions which will spread flu, especially at the diner last night. Gah.
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Saturday, November 1st, 2008
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As I've mentioned before, I frequent a diner next door to me. I have strong ties to this diner since it has been a part of this community since the 30's and the former long-time owner, Harold, owned my house. I did the paperwork putting a bid on my house there. They have been the best neighbors I have.
But today something happened that saddened me. After spending about an hour talking with the crew and the regulars about the usual, who's riding what motorcycle, how the Colts will do, how the PAcers will be this year, lunch counter politics and family updates, I went to pay my bill and something happened that made me sad.
The woman behind the register asked in a irritated voice,"Why do you have Arabic on your shirt?"
This bothers me for many reasons. First off, do I need a reason to have Arabic on my shirt? Why does anyone have anything on their shirt? Does the grown man with Sponge Bob on his shirt making some deep political statement of solidarity for the oppressed ocean invertebrate?
Probably not.
Secondly, what is wrong with Arabic? It's a language. Last I checked letters and words were not blowing up discos in Malaysia. Maybe I like the way it looks with its squiggly flowing lines. Maybe it was a gift. Maybe it says "Peace."
That's not the reason I have it, but I'll get to that later.
Thirdly, even if it were a shirt supporting Arabs what problem is there in that? Arabs, as a whole, are no different that Africans, Caucasians, Asians or any other ethnic group. They are people. One race...human.
But the very last reason it bothered me follows. Fortunately it's the one that will lighten the sadness of bigotry gained from years of a successful propaganda machine leading the general populace of our country to believe that the views of some rabid radicals across the globe are the voice of them all.
You see...the shirt I am wearing is one I picked up in New Orleans in 2005 in the French Quarter while vacationing there with my Dorsai brothers and sisters.
We were walking to the heart of the Quarter in our pretty diverse group. We had some Wiccans, some Christians and some Jews. Some were from Indiana. Some were from the deep South. I am from New England. Some were conservative. Some were Liberal.
And to a person we all laughed when we saw this shirt in the window.
The shirt says "Shalom Y'all" in English and Hebrew.
I think of the irony that she thought it was Arabic and it's Hebrew, the languages of two cultures that have been clashing for so long.
But I think the biggest irony in this is that she saw what she thought was Arabic and drew a stereotypical connection to violence when she was looking at the word that means "Peace."
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Wednesday, October 15th, 2008
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Monday, October 13th, 2008
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I was playing with the cat and run toward her and she started running then did her typical, freeze, roll on her back and look cute.
I may change her name to "Palin."
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Saturday, October 11th, 2008
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On the way back from errands today I saw a small local bakery had a cookie poll going on. I'd always wanted to visit this bakery but usually passed it when it was closed.
Today, after all the negative politics, I was going to do something fun involving the election (other than laughing my ass off at the SNL special Thursday).
I went in and found not only is it a bakery , but also a sort of flea market, carrying second hand jewelry, Christmas ornaments, gag-inducing Precious Moments figurines...
In the display case next to an array of sweets they had two choices for each party. For McCain they had sugar cookies with white glaze and "McCain" in red lettering. The other option was a sugar cookie elephant with red glaze.
For Obama it was red lettering or donkey head with red glaze.
I looked at the "score" and it was 70 McCain/71 Obama. Even in the bakery we are a battle ground state. As recently as last year that would have been a landslide toward McCain.
So I bought my Obama cookie and a container of milk for $2.43. I then thought that as sad as it seems, this vote probably had more positive effect on the economy than the vote in November.
Democracy is tasty, particularly with cold milk.
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Friday, September 19th, 2008
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So I got a nastygram from the city to clean up the weeds in my alley. They'd gotten bad while I was sick for a few months, unknowingly reacting to my former medication.
The bad thing was that as I sometimes do, I missed the letter in the bottom of my deep mailbox. It had been delivered last week some time. When I found it the deadline for cleaning up the weeds had passed by 2 days. They were threatening a charge of $300 to clean it up plus fines of $2500.
I understand it was shaggy but there weren't tires and garbage piled up.
It kind of bummed me out as I had finally gotten back to work this week. I'm back at IDEM doing data analysis at my old title and pay level. IT was a long struggle to get back (due to some confusion at the insurance office...I was supposed to go back last year and they lost the paperwork). But I was back, treated like a rock star by the old friends and I was feeling pretty good. Then I got the letter.
So I imediately started trying to clean it up by myself without the proper equipment. I had hand clippers. Even an industrial weed eater has trouble with the thistle and wild lettuce due to the stringy nature of the plant. And those plants have thorns that go through even rose gloves. Suck.
I finally got overwhelmed and did the right thing...called JP. He showed up an hour later to help me complete cleaning up more of the mess. I actually had made a good amount of progress.
While waiting for him to show up and picking burrs off of myself I had a few conversations with passers by.
The first conversation was with a regular from the diner. He started off teasing me about the weeds but when he found out the city was after me he was very supportive. He said he would help me if he didn't have other stuff to do.
As we were talking a young woman walked by and said they had gotten on her as well. She was a single mother who had just given birth and was recovering from surgery. She ended up paying somebody to clean up. She said they don't take people's situations into account when they send those things out.
After they left another woman asked if I had help coming. She saw me struggling and was going to offer to help me. She said her neighbor, an elderly man, had the city after him, so she was helping him get things in shape.
IT really made me feel better that a stranger offered help. It also made me feel better to know I wasn't alone having the city come after me. I still felt quite ashamed that it had gotten that bad but I wasn't the only person having trouble keeping up with things.
I also spoke to the owner of the diner next door. She said it was way too much work to do by myself and spoke sympathetically.
JP and I got a lot done that night. Then he and Priscilla came back to help me the next day...like they don't have enough of their own stuff to do. WE got most of it done. I still have to stuff a few bits in bags but enough has been done to satisfy the city.
Tonight I was thinking about some of the struggles women have as homeowners. There are more of us today than ever. I thought it would be cool to start a support group and even had the name of it in my head...then I realized the acronym was priceless.
Without trying I came up with Association of Women Home Owners (ASWHO). Yep...I'd be a total ASWHO.
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Wednesday, August 13th, 2008
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There's just something about watching the most physically fit individuals in the world while being flat on my back eating pop-tarts.
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Tuesday, August 12th, 2008
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Apples are roundish. They come in many colors like yellow, red and green. They are in the rose family. They grow on trees.
Oranges are roundish. They come in many colors like orange, yellow and red. They are in the citrus family. They grow on trees. In many languages it is referred to as the "Chinese apple."
I've always hated the phrase "That's like comparing apples and oranges" for comparing two very different things because apples and oranges are very similar things.
I want to start a movement to start a new phrase to replace it that is more accurate like "That's like comparing Ex-lax and wombats."
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Monday, August 11th, 2008
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I was watching the Olympics and noted that Matt Grevers looks like my friend, Mach.
I know he's way too young for me but damn...was I the only one in the world hoping that Phelps would lose his swimsuit last night? He took the top part down and when he was celebrating it crept dangerously close to an international wardrobe malfunction. Damn.
And such a lovely gold performance. I can't think of a better way to punish the French for saying such un-Olympic comments. Saying they would destroy the US and that's what they were there for...sad. The gold and the world record by 4 seconds. I hope they can find a nice recipe for crow.
I discovered that I like watching men's beach vollyball the best. They are the only atheletes I can drool over and not feel icky from the age difference.
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I have the Wildlife Management degree already. I’m currently enrolled for an Anthropology degree (probably moving on to Museum Studies Masters).
I just found this in the news…nature and history in a struggle. Protected cormorants have taken over a historical ship. What to do, what to do:
http://www.ksbw.com/news/17125302/detail.html
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There is an organized movement here in Indiana to try to bring Indiana alcohol laws kicking and screaming into the 21st century…actually even the 20th would be preferable. Hoosiers for Beverage Choice is a group organized to change the laws to include Sunday sales and the purchase of cold beer in a location other than a liquor store. Their goal is to do this while maintaining restrictions of sales to minors.
There are a lot of arguments against these measures, but I haven’t seen one that you can’t counter with logic and an understanding that one of the principles the country was based upon is a particular religious group doesn’t get to call the shots for the rest of the country.
That religious point would be the best argument against a Sunday ban. That Sunday is the ban day is no mistake. Sunday is a holy day…in SOME religions. Not drinking on the holy day, or at all, is a tenet of SOME religions…but those are some specific religions. Many religions, including Judaism, Wicca and Catholicism (there’s a group often not seeing eye to eye) embrace alcohol as part of their ceremonial tradition for weddings, funerals and purification/salvation rituals.
And even if you are part of one of the more restrictive religions, as I am, you may not CHOOSE to stick with all of the rules of your own religion. I am a United Methodist. We’re not supposed to drink. Put in my opinion, if it was good enough for Jesus, it was good enough for me. Besides, I’ve yet to find a translation of the bible that says you should not drink alcohol.
Some argue, and I just saw some one who phrased it just like this, “If you can’t remember to buy alcohol the other six days, maybe you need to cut back on drinking.”
I can drive a Sherman tank through that logic. First, I don’t drink much; maybe once every two to three months. But if my friends are over I like to have at least beer available. Often the gang wants to get together at the last minute and that minute usually falls on a Sunday. It makes sense…most of us work during the week and have things going on Saturday. But how does a gal who doesn’t drink much, and never drink beer, provide beer to her guests if she can’t run out and buy it. Sure, you can say BYOB, but Miss Manners would frown on that. And I CHOOSE to want to provide beer or wine.
Sure…I can buy a six-pack in case there is a gathering, but more often than not I end up throwing five very good beers away (cause my friends are not going to be provided with Bud in MY house). That is the REAL crime.
There is something called “equal protection” in law. The laws, as they currently stand, do not cover everyone equally. Some venues can sell alcohol on Sunday. A bar that serves food, professional sports venues, restaurants and wineries providing tastings are examples. So you cannot go to the store, buy alcohol and go home to drink it, but you can drink it in a bar and drive home. And if you think cranking the price of that cup of Bud up to $6 is going to keep somebody at a Colt’s game from getting crocked you haven’t been to one. Hell…drinking’s about the only way you can get through a Pacer’s game anymore! (Sorry, Sutton).
And seeing how the biggest sporting events are on Sundays (Super Bowl, 500, 400) it makes sense to allow us to send the sober out on a beer run when Uncle Henry bogarts the last Oaken Barrel.
And only liquor stores can sell beer cold. Why not a grocery store? Why not a Village Pantry?
One of the less logical arguments I’ve heard is that the mom and pop liquor stores need a day off.
Okay…the law wouldn’t state anyone HAS to be open and sell alcohol on a Sunday. Antique stores are often closed on Mondays so they can work on Sunday and still have a day off. Plenty of thriving businesses take a day off and survive. There are even major businesses that close one day a week and do fine. Talk to Chik-fil-a and Hobby Lobby. They CHOOSE to be off on Sunday and are fine.
But the dumbest argument against Sunday sales is when somebody states that it has anything to do with keeping minors from obtaining alcohol. I’ve never seen anybody propose a “sell it on Sunday and you don’t have to card anymore” law. When it comes to minors obtaining alcohol Sunday is as good as Tuesday. In fact, most minors who do go through the trouble of grabbing hooch are probably too hung over on Sunday from binging on their shop lifted Irish Rose or mom’s Arbor Mist.
The proposal is pretty simple and would move the law to something more logical, fair and constitutional. If we are responsible enough to drink we are responsible enough to choose when to drink. And if this doesn’t pass I would like to see a proposal to change the ban on alcohol from Sunday to Thursday or Tuesday to prove religion is not the basis of the whole thing.
Okay…I’ve ranted enough to you all. If any of this makes sense and you would like to let the government of Indiana know you are a responsible adult capable of choosing if you want to drink on Sunday I urge you to take a look at the site and ALSO contact your representative.
www.beveragechoices.com
It’s not often that I pass on an e-petition, and I still pass this with an urge to contact your local representatives to give this more power. Without the personal touch, e-petitions tend to be worth the time you put into them…which is not much.
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Tuesday, August 5th, 2008
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An "environmentalist" just came to my door asking me to sign a petition for the Indiana State Forests.
So with my degree in Forestry I of course said "NO" after hearing his talk.
See...he goes on about who the evil DNR is doing clear cuts and prescribed burning to take away the natural forest from the people and the wildlife.
There's nothing I hate more than a hippy self-proclaimed environmentalist who spouts off without knowing the least bit about what he's talking about.
He seemed to be of the belief that proscribed burning would open up the environment to invasive species like garlic mustard, honeysuckle and, Kathi's favorite, baby's breath. This was something he had "heard."
And of course a clearcut is just evil, right?
As he left I stopped him and told him to PLEASE read some peer reviewed literature (not Time/Stinky Hippy Monthly) on the subject as the people who are pro-development tend to cite people like him as the reason why you shouldn't listen to an environmentalist.
I then went and informed him how if it weren't for prescribed burning Florida would be all invasive species. Indiana is kind of weird in the number of exotic invasives, most likely due to a combination of all the cultivation and the traveling through the area in the past.
I asked him how big the proposed clear cuts were to be. He said 20 acres.
I told him that 20 acres was a pretty small clearcut and that small clear cuts were optimal for species like fox, ruffed grouse and deer. Actually 40 acres is optimum for deer. It's much bigger for moose.
"Ruffed grouse...isn't that a plains bird?"
"No...it's a woodlands species. It requires small opening for reproduction."
I urged him again to look over some peer reviewed literature because presenting false information is not only dishonest but also makes the whole cause look bad.
I'm such a bitch. But seriously...I hate these hippy tree hugging bozos that try to "protect the environment" by trying to stop legitimate sustainable forestry and wildlife practices because they "heard" it was bad.
To hell with the fact that prescribed burning and clear cutting also contributes to keeping a woodlot from changing over to a monoculture of maple, more shade tolerant, which would not only cut down on the wildlife habitat but also make the stand susceptible to a species specific disease.
I told him if he wanted to complain about clearcutting to make sure the foresters involved are following good practice like not keeping a nasty stump dump or cutting on a steep ridge next to a river.
I have to do this a lot. I have to let a person know that I support a certain cause but because I actually know something about the topic from a source other than the liberal/conservative talking point board I can't sign their petition.
I'm for lower gas prices, too, but I sure the hell am not signing a petition to repeal a gas tax. I'm for great forests for everyone to enjoy so I support responsible forest management practices including clear cutting and prescribed burning. I'm against child pornography but I won't sign a petition to support a bill that makes all bookstores carrying material deemed obscene by a vague definition has to pay a fee (thank God that one is being challeneged).
Hippy.
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Saturday, August 2nd, 2008
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Sometimes when you are playing chess it becomes necessary to sacrifice your queen to win the game.
And sometimes in the course of a relationship it becomes necessary to step back and out of "the game" to have a chance of winning, though like in chess, you still may lose.
I came to a very hard decision yesterday and intend to follow through with it. My BF, Jeff, has a family that takes over involvement to a whole new level. While they probably have the best of intentions in mind, those intentions pave their way to a small Michigan town about 45 minutes northwest of Ann Arbor (the name of the road is actually "Darwin Rd." No shit. Ask anyone who is familiar with Hell and they will confirm it.).
It's bad enough when a family is manipulating one of their own to get their way. When it actually leads the kids that they are the main target of above mentioned "good intentions" to have split loyalties it's damnable.
Phone conversations amongst themselves are heard by small ears. 12 year olds make statements in language not their own (you are ignoring your family, you focus only on HER).
As most of you who read this know I am very willing to walk the walk and follow my own advice.
After hearing Jeff have it out again with his sister and be put in yet another double bind (no win situation for you non-psych types) I told him that I was tired of being utilized as a tool to manipulate him because the kids are being caught in the middle and hurt the most.
So I have suggested a minimum of a 2 week "break" so that his family will have to find another excuse for why he is making his own decisions and sticking by them. And his daughter will have reinforced that not getting her way does not mean her dad isn't listening to her.
It's been sad to see the girl get excited and want to go to do an activity with me then see her glance toward another family member and check their reaction. It's even sadder when they make some fuss and she changes her mind.
The breaking point yesterday involved planning for the daughter. Jeff has enrolled kids in a new school because they are moving. The school, being brand spanking new, had an ice cream social planned so parents and kids could come in and see the place and meet some folks. Jeff planned on asking his sister (who was returning the kids from a summer with her) if she could drive her as he would be at work. If she couldn't do it he planned on asking me.
Unbeknownst to him his daughter was invited to a friend's party the night before. Permission was granted by the sister. When plans were revealed on the phone yesterday the daughter wanted to go to the social as she is excited to go to a new school.
But the aunt jumps in yelling that she can't back out on her friend and the girl decides that she doesn't want to go because of what the aunt has said.
Jeff makes arrangements for her to do both the social and the party involving me driving as the aunt can't due to a prior commitment. He calls back and starts to explain things to the daughter and she starts screaming at him that she doesn't want me there and she wants to go to the friend's party.
The aunt doesn't feel it is necessary to jump in and tell her it's inappropriate to scream at her dad even after the child says "she has a right to scream at him."
I find this appalling.
To the aunt/sister Jeff should have told them about the ice cream social...which he wanted to keep as a surprise. In Jeff and my mind, he doesn't really need to run plans for his kids by the rest of the family and school related things take precedent and he was finding a way to accommodate both plans. Oh...and perhaps giving permission to go to a party should be headed up with "As long as it's okay with your dad."
MY mind is in cahoots with Jeff's and added that if the friend's party couldn't be accommodated a simple "I'm sorry, but my father had plans involving my new school so I can't make it after all." This is not considered rude in the adult world or the kids' world and teaches her how to deal with these very common situations. (After meeting the friend's father today I'm guessing they would have been fine with that as would the friend.)
I see the pattern pretty clearly. The child has a great time with me. Then she spends alone time around the rest of the family and suddenly she doesn't want me around, I'm around too much, dad's focused on me too much, he's not paying attention to his family.
One time she complained about be being around all the time and I hadn't been there in 3 weeks.
Try to stress to the family that Jeff is actually spending most of his time at one of his two jobs, or working on buying a house, or enrolling the kids in school and they think he's lying.
So I've told Jeff I am backing out of the picture for awhile.
And today when I went to pick the kids up for the ice cream social and be part of something simple being turned into something slightly less complex than the Landing on Omaha Beach I had a showdown with the sister.
I let her know that I would be stepping out of the picture and they would have to come up with another excuse why Jeff wouldn't do their bidding because the kids were getting caught in the middle and getting hurt. Yes...in those words.
I explained some things to her. She denied knowledge I knew she had. I explained more. She stated Jeff should inform his family of stuff that isn't their business. I called her and them on hypocritical behavior and didn't back down. I explained that I wasn't the type to back down because I have self-esteem and am willing to back out for the good of the kids and Jeff.
And I didn't scream. I didn't use foul language. I did point out that maybe they didn't realize what they were doing was manipulative. I pointed out that sometimes when we don't spend as much time with our siblings talking that our mind assumes they are like they were when they last saw them a lot (In Jeff's case, in crisis).
And I said that Jeff needs to be able to make decisions on his own and not do the planning around him.
She had to leave at that point.
I then apologized to the kids for having to hear that because I knew that it was uncomfortable for them.
Later I explained to the kids that I wouldn't be around for awhile. I explained it wasn't because of them. I explained that the family had some problems communicating with each other and that people were getting confused. I explained that they were getting caught in the middle and they shouldn't have to worry about hurting somebody's feelings for wanting to do something (go on a trip with me, not have me around, etc.) I explained that I didn't want to see them get hurt.
I told Jeff a long time ago that I would never make him choose between his family and me but I could make that decision to back out if I saw it was bad for the kids, me or him.
And that time has come. And it sucks. And it hurts. And it's not fair.
But I seem to be the only one who understands that we can't always have things go the way we want in our lives.
And another shot of my dream of having a family of my own may be swirling down the toilet again. But I have my chosen family (that includes blood relations for me as I feel no law makes you have to accept somebody based only on genetics).
And who knows? Maybe this will all work out. Maybe the kids being back under Jeff's roof and being on a real schedule will help things. I can hope but I can't count on it.
And for anyone thinking, "I can't believe she's backing away from these people" remember: Not leaving out of stubbornness is still letting them control my actions. When I say I have the kids interests in the front I mean it.
I hope that this will lead to a "smothered mate" (a chess term...not a Law & Order plot) and not a loss of the game.
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tryphina13's journal
crushed.
amused.
hopeful.
pensive.
tired.
bouncy.
lazy.
weird.
aggravated.
sad.