The Hat...

This is the alpaca hat that's been driving me crazy!! I haven't switched to dpns yet, but it's getting there. I'm now on the k2tog part, having already completed the ssk part. Hopefully, I won't have a "conehead" hat when I'm done!

Other Things to Worry About...

So. Many conservative Catholics are still abuzz over President Obama's speech at Notre Dame. They're mad (a) because he was invited; (b) because he accepted; and (c) because he now has an honorary degree from the Golden Dome. They're also mad because they perceive Obama as "pro-abortion." Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. WRONG. Don't they listen? Obama has stated time and again that he is not "pro-abortion." The bishops, who have decreed themselves the "moral compass" of all "good Catholics," were all a-flutter - wanting to pillory the president of the University because he had the audacity to invite this man. I have so many problems with this whole issue. First off, let me let you in on a secret: PRO-CHOICE IS NOT PRO-ABORTION. Obama has said that his objective is to reduce the number of abortions. What's difficult about grasping that concept? Isn't that the goal of the anti-abortion folks? Second off, there is NOTHING inherently wrong about contraception. We are, remember, in a world of FINITE resources. We can't thump on scripture and continually "go forth and multiply" - otherwise, everyone would have been pleased as punch with Octo-Mom. She's gone forth and multiplied. Again and again. Yet, what we hear is backlash that "WE" will be supporting those kids. However, so many fervent conservatives of any religion seem to think that contraception is the worst evil. No. It's not. One of the worst evils is the predatory priest scandals. They've occurred over a couple different denominations, truth be told. But the Catholic mess is the most publicized. Which brings me to the contention of many bishops, who claimed to be the "moral compass" for "good Catholics" - a claim I doubt to the very depth of my own Catholic soul. My (now retired) bishop was one of the chessmasters in that predatory priest scandal. Over decades, he knowingly moved troublesome priests from one diocese to another, across the nation. And when it was finally disclosed, all he said was "I'm sorry if what I did hurt anyone." Really. The compassion that drips from that statement just moves me to --- well, not tears, that's for sure. I have a fine moral compass, thanks. And it's not a bishop. It's my own, God-given sense of right and wrong. To clarify: Would I have an abortion? I don't know. It would depend upon the circumstances. What I can say is that if I chose to do so, I would like the procedure to be done properly, with trained medical supervision. And the other thing I can say is that when my bishop has a uterus, he can then advise me as to what to do with mine. Do I know women who've had abortions? Yes. Do I think they made the decision lightly? Absolutely not. And they beat themselves up regularly. They often say that they wish there would have been an alternative. All this being said, you can bet your bottom dollar that conservatives will drive this one-issue issue to Hades and back. But there are so many other issues to tackle. Social justice activists can give us several: how about those who live in poverty here in the good old U S of A? Those who live in our country without clean water? Those who live in housing that the SPCA wouldn't allow a dog to inhabit? Not counting the international issues... And the Catholics? Let's talk about why the pews are emptying. Let's talk about where you might be getting your next priest. Have you seen a nun lately? How about all those Catholic schools closing? Having a hissy fit over a commencement speech is the least of our worries. There are so many other things to worry about...

Dear Mother Nature:

Dear Mother Nature: Please make up my mind. Either I'm having a period or I'm not. Either I'm having PMS or I'm just a cranky old woman. Quit fiddling around and messing with my body. I'm tired of the 5-lb. monthly gain. My family would like to see a CHEERFUL me once in a blue moon. I would like to not have to worry about sudden surprises. And yes, I'm done with kids. If you want me pregnant, you'll have to send 3 guys on camels and a big bright star in the East. I'm 51. I'm done. Please quit making me stay on the Menopause Merry-go-Round. Yours truly, Tired of it all...

An Open Letter to Job Applicants

OK, so I'm hiring a new person for my office. And you know in this economy that it's going to be a "wild and wooly" time. We got a goodly number of applicants. Including a couple who "jumped the shark." By that I mean that they applied through our normal process but they also contacted my office directly. One of them did so several times. I am all for pro-active people. Believe me, I've been employed and unemployed. I've been laid off several times. I've been in the position of wondering "if" (not "when") the next interview or job opportunity would ever happen. But let me give you a hint, because I think the whole thing about networking has become slightly skewed in this economy. Asking for "an appointment to talk about the job" is not a good idea. That's called a "job interview" and if your resume merits one, you'll get an interview. Asking for that "appointment" 2 or more times in a week is a really GOOD way to land your paperwork at the bottom of the stack. Asking "did you get my paperwork?" is far more reasonable, but then, only ask once. Hiring managers are bombarded by many people: folks higher up the food chain who want someone interviewed; people in the organization who want their spouse or kid or cousin interviewed; people who want to be interviewed who are obviously unqualified, but desperately seeking a steady paycheck. I get it. But you need to understand that the quickest way to bug someone is to be a pest prior to the actual interview process. I wish everyone luck in their job searches. I know I'm very lucky to have secure (at least I think it's secure) employment. And I know I'm very lucky to have the benefit of many qualified people seeking the position we have open. Just don't derail your chances by being so persistent that we figure, "Heck, if they're like this NOW - what will happen if we hire them?"

I'll give her points...

As a bona fide tree-hugging liberal, I must in full disclosure state that 9 times out of 10, I don't agree with the conservative Republican pundits out there. As a mom, though, I must give credit where credit is due. There's a bigg-ish kerfuffle regarding Meghan McCain's blog and her attacks - make that "attacks" - on Ann Coulter and Laura Ingraham. And I'm not sure that I'm spelling Laura's name right - and I don't care, truly. I did not vote for John McCain. And I wouldn't. Aside from several things that gave me pause during the everlasting campaign, I think he's too old for the very stressful job of President of the United States. And on top of that, he waffles and then calls people names who waffle. Doesn't seem to see that, and other things, in himself. Introspection is a valuable thing to have when you're running the nation that purports to be the beacon for the world. Politics aside, I didn't think too much of Meghan at all, other than that she was his daughter. Then, she wrote that she didn't like - or agree with - Ann Coulter. And then, apparently, she didn't agree with Ms. Ingraham 0r Ms. Ingraham didn't agree with her. The upshot is that there's a "fight" because Meghan has had the audacity to speak her mind. And she's not speaking in lemming or via talking point or anything. She's saying what SHE personally believes. And that is, "there has to be a point where we can find common ground." And for that, Laura Ingraham called her fat. In a clipping where Laura herself sounded very "Valley Girl," she accused Meghan of that self-same sin and then said she was fat. Who's older here? I'd venture to say Laura Ingraham is. Who's more mature? At this point, it looks like Meghan is. She went on The View and basically stated that the whole thing is idiotic and that the best someone can do is call her fat. Look. No matter what party you're involve in, EVERYONE has a right to speak his or her mind. It's what our Creator gave us a brain for. And nobody should be forced to speak along someone else's train of thought, particularly if one believes something slightly or totally different. Meghan McCain is not a political genius. What she is is a girl with guts and the forum to speak her mind. And for that, some older woman calls her fat. Grow up. Listen to the fact that this kid (and she is - she's younger than my oldest kid) is speaking out for what she believes in. Isn't this what we as parents hope for? That our kids will develop into their own persons and be able to function in the adult world on their own? Calling this kid fat is just plain stupid. Attacking someone who dares to think differently based on their physical being is rude. Juvenile. Silly. Immature. And it's guaranteed to make more people listen to what Meghan McCain is saying. Meghan, while I don't always agree with you, I will most certainly applaud you for saying it. Good luck in the world of "adults." You'll need it.

I'm fed up.

I’m frustrated and I know I’m not the only one noticing a disturbing trend at one local church. Let’s call it the “Parking Lot Preakness” in honor (sort of) of the Triple Crown. Here’s the deal. I’ve been a cantor since 1979. I’ve sung in a lot of churches, for many things including the regular Mass: funerals, weddings, anniversaries, most holidays including Easter Vigil and Christmas. I’m there most weekends. And whether I’m at the front or the back, I notice what others have noticed, but it seems like I’m the one saying it. Stop leaving early! For heaven’s sake, Mass is what? About an hour? And yet you’re streaking out the front and side doors near Communion time. We’re singing and instead of the bass line of the music, our song is punctuated by the “whump, whump” of the doors slamming shut. Sometimes, in this particular church located in my hometown, nearly a quarter of the members leave during or before Communion. If you look at a watch, there are roughly 5 to 7 minutes from Communion to the recessional hymn. Five to seven minutes. MINUTES. The Early Birds bolt out, jam up the parking lot and are still stuck there when the rest of us leave at the proper time. So what did your early departure get you? A place in line? The theology is pretty simple. The average Catholic attends Mass once a week. Can’t you spare an hour? What is so all-fired important that you cheat God of your time, are disrespectful of your fellow parishioners, and are incredibly ill-mannered toward our priest? Look, I already make the announcement (yes, nearly every Saturday) before Mass to “please turn your cell phones and electronic devices to mute or vibrate” so that we’re not interrupted by chirps, tweets and snatches of melodies in an otherwise spiritual space. Is it too much to ask of you to stick around for Father’s final blessing? I talked to one of our Eucharistic Ministers last Saturday and he remarked, “I went back to give Communion and saw that it was practically empty back there! This must be the worst church for that.” And, according to what I’ve seen in my travels, it is. There are legitimate reasons to leave Mass early. Labor (as in giving birth). Physical ailment along the lines of violent nausea, heart attack, stroke, or other instances of near-fatality. A cranky child who is out of control. Fire in the church. Actual collapse of the building or roof. And that’s about it. At one point, I attended a military chapel. The priest there was so annoyed by people cutting out of Mass early that, for several weeks, we had Marines stationed at the doors. Father said, “Nobody needs to leave before we’re through.” Draconian? Probably. But he made his point. The same priest stopped us in the middle of the Creed and asked, “So how many of you are paying attention to what you’re praying?” I talked with one of our retired priests. He often helped out with Mass, and I mentioned how much this bothers me. He said, “My idea is to have banners placed at the side doors, and have them unfurled before Communion. They’d say: Judas was the first one to leave the Last Supper early.” Where can I write the check to contribute toward those banners?

This has GOT to change.

So I'm reading today's Chicago Tribune (www.chicagotribune.com) and in the "Chicagoland" area I see an item about a man being sentenced to 8 years in prison on Wednesday after pleading guilty to his SEVENTH drunk driving charge. I read further. Now I'm really aggravated. "Illinois state statutes require a mandatory prison sentence from 6 to 30 years for someone convicted of six or more driving under the influence charges." SIX OR MORE????????????? This man had a blood-alcohol content of .15 - about twice the level of what's considered "legal intoxication" in this state. SIX OR MORE????????????? Drunk drivers kill people. If you drive while drunk, there is a nearly-certain chance you'll have an accident. Don't tell me you "have control" and are "above average" in your ability to drive while impaired. So, I hit MSN Live Search with "Illinois + drunk driving + accident rate." You will not believe what came up first. Illinois DUI Lawyers. A listing suggesting that one "fight your Illinois DUI." And hey, it's a free call. In an article I found at www.dui.com (written in 2005) it states that there are about 17,000 alcohol-related deaths per year. And it's been hard to keep that issue in the public eye. There's something to be said for good, old-fashioned letter-writing campaigns. Start with your local newspaper. Hit your state representatives. Do something toward making a change. Because the change we need is this: It should not take SIX OR MORE convictions for DUI to result in jail time. Most drunks are hard-core. They don't care if they don't have a license. They're addicts. ADDICTS. They crave alcohol. All they want are the keys to the car. So they can fulfill their craving. If you could ask them, I bet over 90% of them would say with an astoundingly clear conscience that they are "perfectly fine" driving because "they know where they're going" when they're drunk. Uh-huh. If the public has anything to say about it, where you're going is jail.

Touch Me Scarf

Here's a picture of the Touch Me scarf. It's been felted and is extremely luxurious. The color is a deep garnet.

The yarn was purchased from two sources (I didn't read the directions and had to purchase the final ball after I'd gotten the first two): Chix with Stix at www.chixwithstix.com and Jimmy Bean's Wool at www.jimmybeanswool.com and both are great sources!

The pattern is from Sally Melville's "The Knit Stitch" book.

My Cheese is Fried!

OK, I'm a little bit at the "fried cheese" stage... I have to stop watching the Today Show. The irresponsible mother of 14 children has her own PR person. And that PR person said (with a straight face) that "once you hear Nadya's story, you'll be inspired because it really is uplifting, and amazing." What???????????? I have close friends of mine who've been through IVF. I know what it cost them. What IN THE NAME OF HEAVEN is so "uplifting" about a woman who had health care "professionals" (quotes deliberate) who thought implanting SIX children in a single mother's womb was a good idea, and WHO IS THE STINKIN' IDIOT who did it this last time??? Sorry. I am SOOOOOOOOOO NOT carping on single mothers. I am carping on a woman who is obviously in the grip of some sort of addiction. Her own mother said, "She always wanted a big family because she was an only child and was lonely." THAT caused both DH and DS #2 to spit their respective morning beverages right thru their noses. She's "baby hungry" and now PR hungry. Corporations are NOT going to be flocking to her door. And the fertility professionals need to get a grip on some sort of ethical standard. I don't think doctors need to "regulate family number" as one expert was quoted. But they DO have a PROFESSIONAL RESPONSIBILITY to do the right thing and recognize when the situation becomes "just because we CAN doesn't mean we SHOULD."

What is THIS all about?

Ok, I like winter. Yeah, I'm odd. And I like winter sports. Particularly if I'm participating in them, and preferably when the temperatures are NOT -20! So, I ice skate. I snow shoe. I had done some downhill skiing in my youth, but decided that I really didn't need to get anywhere quite that fast. Instead, I cross-country ski, which is billed as an "all-over" workout. "All over" was about how I felt this past weekend. My hubby and I went to the path we've been using to snow shoe this past Saturday. Mind you, he's been doing this since at least college, maybe younger. We get on the skis. I immediately have trouble staying upright. Even with poles. I'm a person who can hold "tree" pose for 5 minutes without a wobble. Balance should not be an issue. We get going. I feel like I'm "shoving" the skis instead of gliding, and then we hit a nice slight downhill level so I can "schush" along nicely, using the poles to propel me along, and getting in a nice bit of upper body exercise. Then comes the first hill. I get half-way up, and I slide down. I get half-way up and slide down again. I'm stubborn. Hubby made it up there, so why can't I?? Finally, I conceded defeat and did the sideways shuffle up the hill. Went along a while further and then we hit a BIG (well, big in x-country terms) downhill. Hubby went down, and did fine. I went down and managed to over-correct slightly. Hubby says, "Aim for the trees." Is he crazy? Besides, he's got more life insurance than I do... Instead, I do what any self-respecting person would do. I sat down. It's amazing that the human butt is a great anchor. I popped the bindings, kicked the skis out from under me and walked down the remainder of the hill. So Sunday, he decides "we need to work on technique" so we head for the same area, only a soccer field that looks nice and flat. Ha. Deception abounds, my friends! It's a gentle maybe 1-degree downward slope toward the road. I did fine. I did the turn just peachy. Then I started back. Oh. My. Dig the poles deep, behind your rump into the snow. Puuuuuuuuuuullllllll with all your might on said poles to get the skis (and your body) forward. Take one pole out, gingerly and quickly - trying not to cross your skis or lose your balance. Poke it slightly ahead of yourself. Do the same with the other pole. Then, through sheer force of will, puuuuuuuuuuuuullll those legs and skis forward. Only to slide backward 6 or 8 feet. More than once. More than 4 times. Embarassingly more than I feel like it should have been. Particularly since Hubby scooted right up that hill as if it was flatter than an Illinois corn field. It took me nearly 20 minutes to "ascend the hill" - and yes, you may surely read a whole heap of sarcasm at the "hill" point. I got to the crest, popped the skis off and said, "I'm not sure why I like this anymore." So riddle me this... I can skate for a couple of hours on a thin blade. I can stop; turn; go forward AND backward. And stay upright. Even spin modestly. I can do yoga - I love balance poses. But on a 2" wide 5 1/2' piece of wood? I'm a total clod. Will I be getting back on the skis? Yep. As soon as we have more snow. I'm not going to let a skinny piece of fiberglass defeat me.

Bye-Bye Burris...

You'd think, living in Illinois, we'd kind of be used to our "dirty politics" and it wouldn't bother us to be the butt of nation-wide jokes. But you know, there's Barack Obama, who was supposed to make it all shiny and new again. Then, Rod had to go muck it up as if someone stuck a knife in his hairspray bottle. It's all sticky, nasty and just plain icky. Roland? Oy, don't get me started. First off, who in God's name calls their children by their own first name? Who's got a "compensating issue" with a monument as big as a Sherman tank? And who couldn't, on national TV tonight, pronounce "senator" correctly? Roland, please do us the favor that our governor refuses to do. Bow out gracefully. Re-think. Consider "spending more time with the family" and consider the fact that your partner in all of this is making a shameful display of his own bigotry. Bobby Rush, somehow strangled with his own importance, is calling the Senate's rebuff of Burris "plantation politics." Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. This man apparently doesn't know the meaning of the word irony though his own comments are dripping with it. He wouldn't support Obama; going instead for the rich white guy. Then, he hopped aboard the Obama train. Now, though, he seems to see some opportunity lurking somewhere. I can't see it myself, but Illinois politicians don't support someone just because they're altruists. They support the other guy because it's wired in their DNA. Pay-to-play is a concept but it's also an intrinsic part of Illinois politics. Once you have that part figured out, you can almost see where the next step will be. However, in Rush's case, I'm not sure what Burris has to offer. Burris is a joke. He can't make elected office on his own; he has to rely on a has-been governor, who hasn't got the sense God gave a goose, to appoint him to a position for which he may meet the bare qualifications (age, residence in the state), but for which he is in no way capable to handle the job (he's just not smart enough). This is one of those times when I shake my head. And I'm grateful that nobody in my family is in politics. We can just sit and watch the sideshow.

Spare Us, Please...

Oy. To be the butt of jokes for Jay Leno. To be the national embarassment. To have the FBI's SAC in Chicago say, "If it isn't the most corrupt state in the United States, it's certainly one *%&^ of a competitor." The un-lamented governor of the State of Illinois is under an extraordinary indictment in a pay-to-play scheme to sell President-elect Barack Obama's senate seat to the highest bidder. The man who once claimed that he had more "testicular virility" than the entire state legislature is in it up to his well-coifed hairline. Methinks Roddie-boy has been inhaling the fumes of whatever hairspray he's using. I know - innocent till proven guilty. But this guy has a really, REALLY bad case of "Ryan-itis." That's the ailment that plagues the LAST governor, George Ryan, currently a guest of the Feds on racketeering and bribery charges (a/k/a "pay to play" in a license for bribes scheme with PLENTY of collateral damage). You see, George is petitioning for commutation of his 6 1/2 year sentence (it could have been 22 years, buddy) - claiming that he's "old" and his wife is in frail health. Well, he was old when he committed his crimes. And while he was committing them, maybe he should have thought about Lura Lynn having to spend her remaining years by herself. Ryan won't admit he's done anything wrong. His lawyer, "Big Jim" Thompson, another former IL governor, who arranged for his multi-million dollar defense to be done pro bono (that's free for the rest of us), while costing the TAXPAYERS of Illinois major bucks, has drafted an appropriately conciliatory "note of sorrow" telling us how sad he is and how he regrets what he's done. Yet Lura Lynn says, "George told me that if he had it to do over again, he'd do everything the same way." Nice job. Roddy's lawyer, upon his client's arrest, said, "He's sad, surprised and innocent." And may I add delusional?? He thinks he's done nothing wrong. Look. Patrick Fitzgerald doesn't issue 78-page complaints because he's got nothing better to do. Federal judges don't issue permission to wiretap because they've got nothing else to do (the Current Occupant's unauthorized wiretapping being beside the point right now). If he IS, by some Christmas miracle, proved not guilty, then mazel tov. But the stain is there. Spare us the embarassment of being the nation's joke. Resign, Rod. Fitzgerald has your "testicular virility" in a wringer. You and Patti need to take the girls and just go away. Now.

Hard Lessons of Life

Yesterday, I was working the polling place as an election judge. I got a call from Hubby early in the afternoon to inform me that my Granny had been taken to the hospital with the suspicion that she'd had a stroke. Of course, I could do nothing but worry because I couldn't leave. We talked to the two boys and told them about their great-grandma. She's 94, has lived a good life, but in the past 4 or 5 years, her health has declined and she's pretty much wanted to die. All her siblings have died; most of her friends have died. She's just ready to go. And mad at God because she's not gone yet. The "boys" are mid-20s and nearly-20. They've seen "very old" and "very dead" people. They've never seen anyone seriously ill. When my dad died of cancer, before he died, he reached a certain point where he "banned" all the grandkids from coming to visit. He said, "They're young and I don't want them to remember me like this." So the boys have never really seen this up close. Granny can't remember Hubby's name. She remembered one of the boys but not the other. And she thinks Hubby is married to my cousin. She doesn't remember ever being married (she was married to my Grandpa for 61 years) and says she's 68 years old. She doesn't remember her younger daughter, but does remember her older daughter (my mom). She says she remembers me, but since we have the same name, I'm not sure if she's recalling the 'name' or the 'person.' The boys went up to visit Granny today. I'm proud that they did, without my having to take them there. But I was also worried. Kid # 2 sums it up this way: "Hospitals make me puke." And Kid #1 is just not good with the whole concept. I called Kid #1 today after the visit. He's in a pretty somber mood and said, "This really stinks. I'm really sad that she doesn't remember my brother." I feel bad. You want to protect your kids, no matter how old they are. You want them to be safe and happy and successful and never have to be hurt or sad. But you know in your heart of hearts that, eventually, they will have their own trials, their own heartbreaks, and they'll experience what you have: the illness and death of someone close to them. I don't know how this will all play out. She could remain just as she is or she could have another, bigger stroke which will give her what she wants: a trip to Heaven. Needless to say, I've been teary all day, when I think about it. I know in my own heart of hearts that none of us lives forever. I know how lucky we are to have her here at 94. And I know she's really ready to go. But I know that this is the Granny I've known all my life, and even at 50, something like this makes me feel 11 again and wishing that I could hide away till it's all resolved. But I can't. I have to be strong for my own kids. And I have to be strong for my siblings and my mom. The boys will learn this lesson as they've learned other lessons. And we'll cry and mourn when Granny dies. And we'll get through it. Yes, it's going to hurt, but yes, we'll learn this lesson, too.

VOTE OR SHUT UP.

So Kid 1 and Kid 2 are having a "spirited" discussion. What you have to know is that Kid 1 is our resident cynic. He's convinced the world is headed to Hades in a handbasket and that we - my generation - have been the last in a long line of people who've screwed it up totally. Beyond the repair of his generation or his brother's generation. Kid 2 feels pretty similar, but he has a small belief in the "process" so that if enough people get involved, it can be a sea change. He sees his generation as the potential to start that change. Kid 1 is probably not going to vote. But he'll gripe about how rotten the system is, how politicians are corrupt and how we're all eventually going to screw ourselves into premature planetary implosion. Kid 2 just voted early with us - his first time to vote. The discussion, which included a few mutual friends, ended when Kid 2 said, "You know what? It ultimately comes down to this: VOTE OR SHUT UP. "The system is what it is till WE change it. And if you're not interested in VOTING, then you have no right to complain about how crappy the system is. Obviously, it's not crappy enough to make you get off your butt to change it. So then you essentially have nothing to complain about, right? "So either VOTE OR SHUT UP." Out of the mouths of babes...

Links You Need to Read...

One of these is kind of long. But the others are fairly short. Read 'em and contemplate... http://tinyurl.com/McCain-is-a-liar http://www.rollingstone.com/politics/story/23318320/mad_dog_palin http://www.rollingstone.com/politics/story/23316955/the_doubletalk_express/ These are things we need to discuss before we have another 4-year disaster on our hands. And the thing is, according to most of the polls (if you ignore the right-wing slobbering hordes who thought she did well just because she read her script and didn't actually answer some of the questions), even Alaskans felt she didn't win the debate. Expectations low enough? THAT is scary.

Am I dreaming???

I want the following in a President and Vice-President. I do NOT want to have a beer with either of them. Both of them should be so smart that they scare the heck out of anyone. I want 'em so smart that they speak at least ONE other language fluently; have at least a Master's Degree in SOMETHING; have a successful career in SOMETHING; and can look any world leader in the eye and say, "No, there's a better way to do this where we'll all benefit." And that way usually doesn't include preemptive invasions and blowing things up. Yeah, Bill Gates is scary-smart and he never finished college, but he's unique. So are Steven Hawkings and Amy Smith, a MacArthur Genius grant-winner. I want all-around-genius-smart. And I want a personality that's imposing without arrogance. Someone that has a clue about what REAL "servant leadership" is about would also be good. I'm not picking on anyone. I'm just saying that someone who will be the leader and second-in-command of such a powerful nation - they have to be pretty special and "not ordinary" people. I am ordinary. I don't want "ordinary" leading this nation. We deserve better. We've had 8 years of Yogi Berra-like malapropisms and near-total cluelessness. We have had 8 years of a puppet government. We've had 8 years of "trying to get my Dad's attention." For the sake of our kids, grandkids and the entire planet, we need better. And we're the only ones that can make that happen. OK, I'm snapping out of my dream.

Intelligent Political Discussion...Is it Possible?

My idea of intelligent discussion, for anyone smart enough to understand words with more than one syllable, is a discussion wherein ANY party's talking points do not become the centerpiece; the only intersections of discussion; the be-all and end-all of any argument; and the only knee-jerk response to anything said by someone who disagrees. That's pretty clear. Once people can actually talk about their beliefs - even owning those that are obviously sexist and racist, though over half the time we don't even admit them to ourselves - then, we talk. Otherwise, it's all hot air. And compost. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ As you can see, someone got my goat. If you can't argue your position, maybe you need to re-evaluate your hold on it and your investment in it.

Don't Breathe???

So. Today was THE day. The Annual Squish. And of course, last week, my cycle shifted just so that, 3 days ago, I was in full "Dolly Parton" mode. It was unpleasant, unplanned and painful! I got to the imaging facility and was able to go right in. I had a lovely technician, by the name of Janet, who "felt my pain." You see, the mammograms are digital and I have dense tissue (those of you who know me? Spare me the "dense" jokes!!). So, Janet says, the equipment has to "press down harder" to be able to get a good view. "Stand with your hips and feet facing the machine. Place your left arm and shoulder above the plate; don't GRIP the bar, just hold it. Scoot your butt out a bit. Now, hold still." Whirrrrrrrr; down comes the Plate of Pain. Janet goes behind her magic screen and says, "Now, hold your breath." Please. Like I could even THINK about breathing?? She apologizes as the Plate of Pain lifts, then we get to do it over on the other side. Then, the fun begins. We get to do the "sideways images." Stand with your toes and hips at a slight angle; tip your chin up so the plate doesn't whack you in the face. Bend slightly forward "so the tissue moves forward." Janet says, "Well, I know this is uncomfortable, but look at me" (which I can't because I'm squeezed in place) - "I'm all scrunched under here with my head under this part." Yes, dear, but I'm squeezed IN that part! I feel for my "less gifted" sisters - this is one test where more really IS better. I have a friend who's on the "boyish" side and she says that every year, she comes away bruised and feeling "scraped" by the Plate of Pain. So I guess it's good that I got the "family allotment of bosom" as my sister says. I give mammography technicians credit. They're handling a very aggravating test day in and day out. They are so professional (at least the ones I've run into) and matter-of-fact that they make you feel good about taking care of yourself. But even the pre-procedure aspirins did nothing today when "Dolly Parton" met The Squisher. That's ok, though. I came through this one without having to do any of the images over, and I'm done for a year.

This is "change"???

The sad part is, we could have predicted exactly how the RNC was going to go down. Mean. Rotten. Nasty. Much Hot Air - No Substance. They don't feel they HAVE to tell us what they'll do. It's enough that they're (R) - can't you people tell that they've only got our well-being in their hearts? Where have you been in the last eight years? The surge is working. Maverick. The economy is booming. Maverick. I don't know how many houses I have. Maverick. My kid's pregnant and I'm forcing her into the middle of a political inferno. Maverick. I've intimidated people and tried to fire a librarian because she wouldn't ban a book I didn't like. Maverick. I am willing to shill myself and my family for my own ambition. Maverick. Global warming is a myth - ignore that recent MSN story about two large ice sheets in Canada breaking off. Maverick. That has nothing to do with anything. Maverick. Drill in ANWR. Maverick. Alternate sources of energy don't work. Maverick. Endangered polar bears? What are you talking about? POW. Victory. Surge. POW. Victory. Surge. They should have paid me to summarize the entire convention; it wouldn't have taken 4 days. At this point, McCain says "Change is coming." It is. And it's Democratic. Finally.

Chinese "women" Olympians??

It can't be just me. The bloggers out there have found that the "women" on the Chinese gymnastics team are really no older than about 14. Why do they feel compelled to cheat? They apparently altered passports to show that the girls (because that's what they are) were the minimum age of 16, but others found that, through records of regional competitions, the girls were actually about 14. Bela Karolyi pointed it out. He should know from "massaging the system" because of his work in Romania. I'm not casting stones; just pointing out that sometimes socialist systems have different versions of "acceptable truth" than some other systems. Think about it. Shawn Johnson was so thrilled because she "just" made the minimum age requirement. So what makes the Chinese immune from the rules? Because they're the host country? Or because economically they may own half the world with various countries having received loans from them? Whatever it is, it's not fair. And it's not only not fair to us the viewers, but it's not fair to the Olympians who ARE following the rules - and above all, not fair to the girls themselves. What are they teaching them? That it's ok to not obey the rules - in a country that has, for ages, thrived on obedience and conformity, this is somewhat laughable. Except it's not funny to push young bodies to do the things they're doing. It's not true to the Olympian spirit. And it's just not a good example to set for the team members who are, in all likelihood, just girls.

There Goes the Neighborhood...

To the lady (and I use that term loosely) in the Ford Fusion who was ahead of me in the turn lane tonight: You are a BAD mom. And you got your driver's license out of a vending machine for a quarter. Do you know what that big square vehicle is with the whirling red lights and "whooop, whooop" sirens? It's called an AMBULANCE. When an AMBULANCE approaches an intersection, there's this little sensor, and it changes the lights on the side of the intersection where the ambulance is traveling. That means MOVE OVER NOW. That does NOT mean "flip off the driver behind you who honks her horn." That's your first problem. Your second problem is "the bird." You are a mom. There was a kid in the car. What kind of example are you showing your kid? A bad one. An example that tells him, "Manners don't count. It's ALL ABOUT ME." Listen, missy: It is NOT all about you. Get your snotty head out of your sit bones, crank the music down, look in your rearview mirror and see the big square vehicle with the whirling red lights and foghorn-like bellow coming up behind you. It's people like you that teach your kids that they are the center of the universe, and they can dump on everyone else. It's not about you. It's about the ambulance. Ambulances carry sick people. Have you ever ridden in one? I gotta tell you - it's a very nasty ride. The industrial-strength shocks make for a very bumpy ride, and if you are sick or hurt enough to be in an ambulance, you really ARE in need of quick transport to the nearest hospital. Ambulances have the right of way, at least in this state. At least when they're not confronted by bumble-headed nitwits who can't see past the bird they're flipping at other drivers who are between the two of them. Get over yourself. Maybe teach your kid manners - though I doubt you have any. Teach your kid that "the bird" is a bad thing. Teach your kid that ambulances and other emergency vehicles take first place on the road when they have their lights and sirens going. If you can't teach this information to your kid, maybe - just maybe - you might KNOW someone with manners. Or send me a message - I'll find someone to teach your kid, since you are obviously not providing a good example for him. In the meantime, if you can't see an ambulance or hear it, you really do not need to be driving, especially with a kid in the car.

Oh my.

Phenomenal speech by Obama. If he can do one-tenth of what he is saying, this will be a successful presidency. It will be an interesting campaign to watch.

Religious Hall of Shame...

Normally, I'm pretty happy being a Catholic. Of course, like every human being, I've had my crises of faith. But generally, the ability to believe in a deity who is "somewhere out there" and is watching over us humans (and often shaking Her head, I'm sure) is somewhat comforting. The trouble is when humans get involved in the whole idea of religion. Considering the gospels, who decided there should only be four? And why were those four written by men? Jesus did have female followers. Who says priests should only be men? One of the wisest preachers I knew was a woman, and it was she who changed my own narrow vision of what a "pastor" is. And I don't care what I was taught; I've come to believe that Mary Magdalene was NOT the prostitute she was made out to be. I'm not sure what she was, but I have come, in my maturity, to believe that she may have been painted with the wrong brush, for the sake of expediency and a good story. Fast forward many centuries, and we have the current issues facing the Catholic Church. The pedophile scandal which has people confusing sexual predators for gay men - guess what, folks, they are NOT the same thing. Think about it and look it up or ask someone. Use the brain God gave you. It won't hurt, I promise. Our Church lied, shuffled offenders around and did what it does best sometimes: it stalled, hoping that the problem would "go away." Hey, your Holiness: Since that Vatican II thing, parishioners aren't just dumb pew-jockeys. We are involved. And we know how to be activists. And we will. You lied to us; you lied to the world. And you want us to just forgive and "forget" what happened. Oh, and pay the legal bills, too. Not gonna happen. You've lost a chunk of my generation, and you have potentially lost the generation my kids inhabit, too. They see past the collars and see flawed humans. And they wonder why we in my generation let this fester. Most recently, there's Fr. Mike Pfleger in Chicago. Being a priest is a 24/7 proposition. You are never NOT a priest, even if the collar is off. And when the collar is ON - well, you really need to watch your Ps and Qs. And Fr. Pfleger most certainly did not watch anything. He didn't heed that voice in that deep part of the brain that says, "Whoa, there, Pilgrim! Watch what's coming out of your mouth." And Cardinal George certainly didn't help with that milque-toast tap on the wrists. Fr. Pfleger has embarassed many Catholics. He's embarassed many Christians. He did the usual "pseudo-apology" thing but it's too little, too late. And again, Cardinal George, where's the starch in YOUR collar? I don't think Pfleger needs to be kicked out. I think he needs to be re-assigned. He's been at St. Sabina's for what? A couple of decades? Yes, he's done fine things. But you know what happens when you've been the "face" of the organization for a long time? You tend to get complacent. You forget the vows you made, and you "become" the organization. Sometimes, that works. This time, it didn't. He not only embarassed Catholics, he embarassed his own parish. Even though there are people who stood up for his right to speak, he violated a basic principle: Don't do anything that you wouldn't like to see on YouTube the next day. Now, he's upset at YouTube. Fr. Pfleger, please look in a mirror. THAT is the person you should be mad at. You let theatrics and histrionics get the better of logic and theology. You had no right to use a pulpit - any pulpit - to say what you said. There has historically been a separation between church and state, and for good reason. You may very well have endangered Trinity's tax exempt status, at the least. At the most, you've given one more negative impression of a church which has done quite a bit for its community. There are people out there shaking their heads saying, "Just what DOES go on at that church? Are they all whack-jobs?" Probably not. But they sure know how to put 'em on the pulpit. Fr. Pfleger needs to be reassigned to a post where he can contemplate his actions and his future. Out of the spotlight. For a while. Maybe then, he could be reassigned to another parish, and not as the guy in charge. A large dose of crow wouldn't kill him. It may make him stronger and potentially temper his "speak before you think" habit. He's not a bad man. He's just started to believe his own PR. And when that happens, nothing good usually comes of it.

Baby Birdies!!

We have two - but right now, here's a shot of the first one. We can see his (?) beak above the nest now, as the parents go through the feeding frenzy. We'll get more shots as we go. This has been really fun to watch up close.

More pics will come.

Lead Dog Syndrome

On my daily commute, I see the "usual suspects" and the usual - once foreign, now common-place - behaviors. Cell phone conversations that slow the driver ahead of you to a crawl; women putting on make-up (the mascara in the rear view mirror always annoys me for some reason); men balancing a newspaper with their coffee cup as they drive; my husband's all-time favorite: teens texting as they drive... And the most recent behavior I've witnessed, I've decided to christen "Lead-Dog Syndrome." I've had huskies for most of my adult life. Huskies are outstanding sled dogs, and from what I'm told about mushers, they know a good lead dog when they see it. That's the dog who always wants to be in front. Always. No matter where the dog is in the formation, the one who ends up being "lead dog" is the one who is bound and determined to make its way to the front and stay there. Today, on the way in to work, I saw the most aggressive exhibition of that syndrome. Mind you, on one of the routes I take, it is an interstate highway, though the part near my home is a 2-lane road. It's narrow. There's a big old valley on one side, and a forest preserve on the other side. And very low guard rails. And no where to go if some idiot is driving like his or her shorts are on fire. Anyway, this person (I didn't catch the gender because of the movement of the vehicle) was in one of those small cross-over autos. And the driver was zipping in and out between us - no signal of course, because that might have been courteous or (gasp!) safe. The driver actually didn't get very far because he or she was only getting ahead one car at a time, and this 2-lane highway does have stop lights on it. What causes this? What is the point? Are you really getting that far ahead? Do you know how absolutely annoying your behavior is? And shouldn't you get a safer hobby - like, say, maybe fire-eating? Traffic on this road in particular is very congested for a number of reasons: increase population; route change because of construction; high volume of large trucks. This driver didn't give a hang. He or she was GOING TO BE IN FRONT if it killed him (or her) - or anyone else in front of that vehicle. I would suggest to those who absolutely insist on being in first do one of a couple of things: get up wayyyyyyyyyyy earlier than the rest of us so you have the road to yourself; find alternate routes that nobody but the geese are using; or, my personal favorite: deal with the fact that if you do want to get to the head of the line, sign up for the Iditarod. I hear there's plenty of space on that trail.

This is too much.

I'm supposed to be in a very "valuable" demographic, at least as far as one Democratic contender for the presidency is concerned. I'm a woman in her 50s. I'm college educated, have a Master's Degree and I'm white. And I am so far out of her preferred demographic that it's not even funny. Especially now. Hillary Clinton, the woman who's gotten the farthest in any presidential contest in this country, has just, in my opinion, torched herself. Well and truly torched her chances of any sort of victory. Well and truly alienated any thinking woman or man in his or her 50s. Commenting on the reason for her not dropping out, she brought up the assassination of Robert Kennedy in California. The 40th anniversary of that killing is coming up soon. On the heels of Ted Kennedy's recent, devastating diagnosis of a malignant brain tumor. And, when the comments elicited the righteous outrage they deserved, her spokesperson in essence said that (a) Hillary didn't exactly say that; and (b) people were "reading too much into that." Hillary herself noted that she was just quoting history. No. Well, yes. Yes, she WAS just quoting history. But she was quoting - and invoking - the most bleak and painful aspect of our history as a nation. Our history of killing our leaders is long, considering the actual age of our country. We are, after all, only 232 years old. And during that time, people who have either mental imbalance or some weird sense of their own importance or the importance of their own agenda, have tried (often succeeding) to kill our president. The list of those killed: Lincoln, Garfield, McKinley, Kennedy. The list of those attempts: Jackson, T. Roosevelt, FDR, Truman, Ford, Reagan. Let's not forget that RFK and MLK also gave their lives. And they weren't presidents - they were, however, leaders. So. She's put out there what, probably, many people have worried about. But many of us who may have, and still do have, concerns about this do not have a worldwide platform upon which to air our views. We keep them inside, or talk about them to close friends. She "put it out there in the air" as my guitar teacher says. And then subsequent namby-pamby pseudoapology? Did she ever stop to consider that the same whacko that might consider putting a bullet in one candidate's head might well target her? Or, since her "sniper fire in Bosnia" fantasy, has she become immune to the power of a gun?

What is absolutely astounding is the thought that any of us who are old enough to remember the dark times in our history would want them even brought up again! I was a kid in the 60s. But I clearly remember where I was when JFK was killed. I think all of us who are old enough remember that. And all of us are determined, no matter what the past 8 years have been for any of us, to NOT go back to those days where it seemed that our politicians were killed before they could get going. And who knows what it was that they could have accomplished, if they'd have lived. How different would the nation be if each and every person on that list of "successful" attempts had lived his full allotment of years? It was remarked that Hillary is a "professional politician." Well, maybe so. But I don't like her particular version of the game of politics. And I don't appreciate being lumped into a demographic of people who "will" vote for her just because of her - or my - gender. Hillary, you stepped into it up to your hips. There's no graceful way to exit this particular bit of self-inflicted sniper fire. It's time to fold up your tent and go home. Maybe Bill was right in a recent Chicago Tribune article. Maybe it's actually going to be Chelsea's time. And not yours, because you've proven by your many mis-steps that you're just not ready for prime time. Not now, and possibly after all this, not ever.

...And here's Mamma!

Here she is, in all her maternal glory. Pappa divebombs anyone or anything foolish enough to get close. Although they let the goldfinches feed right next to them.

Nestlings...

This is a nest - apparently, Mamma Robin has decided that our bird feeder makes a perfect spot for her nest. What a "bird's-eye" view we'll have for the fledglings!

Keith Olbermann's Special Comment, May 14, 2008

Here's the link. Pass it to everyone you know. Yes, it IS that important. This is the most cogent, coherent, pithy and precise comments on the current Shrub in the White House that I have seen in a long time. I try to comment on general things, but this one commentary says a lot to me. Can 2009 get here any sooner? http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/22425001/vp/24635229#24635229

Two New Species of Birds Identified!!

We know that, just like the passenger pigeon and the great auk, the dodo has gone on to greener pastures, we hope. However, I found two new “birds” out there. Maybe because there are so many folks moving into our area? Or maybe because I’m watching everyone in cars these days, as I don’t trust other drivers to understand or obey the traffic signals. The first species: “Omnipresent Butt-Flicker.” This bird operates year ‘round, fair weather or foul, frequently flicking cigarette butts out the driver’s side window of a vehicle, whether moving or standing still. This species apparently lacks an ashtray in its vehicle, though I’ve noticed it driving cars that may indeed still have them, though maybe not where this species would like them located. This species is unaware that butt-flicking is littering. Often crying, “It’s only one cigarette butt,” it’s common in more urban areas. It also walks, and does its thing without a car window to facilitate flicking. The second species: “Constant Ash-Tapper.” This bird eventually morphs into the Butt-Flicker, tapping its ashes out of the car window as well, never knowing (or caring) where the ashes may go. This species often utters, “Well, I don’t want to smell up my car.” Too late. Plastic, leather, and cloth are amazingly porous materials that suck up smoke just like a large pair of lungs. All you Butt-Flickers - get your heads out of your ashes. Realize that those nasty little butts do have a hot end. One day, you’ll flick one “just right” and it’ll end up in the car behind you. In someone’s lap. Who’ll be none too happy with your species and who may well cause some road rage once he or she stops the “seated tap dance” that’ll ensue upon contact with a hot butt. And yes, you’re littering. Paint a mental picture, if you will, of all your flicked butts piled up in your front yard. All you Ash-Tappers – get your heads out of your butts long enough to realize that, even if your car doesn’t have an ashtray, you can buy one. Put some double-stick tape on a cheap plastic one and whack it to your dashboard or stick it in one of your cup holders. Yes, you’ll have to empty it – hopefully in an approved container and not at an intersection. But you wash your car every once in a while, right? So either suck the stuff up with a vacuum or dump it into a trash can. Make like the Butt-Flickers and just imagine all that piled up in your living room. According to an article from Reuters Health, worldwide, smokers toss at least 4.6 trillion (yes, with a “t”) butts each year. The paper and tobacco parts are biodegradable; not the filter. Made of cellulose acetate, it’s not environmentally friendly. We can correctly assume that "environmental responsibility" is fairly low on the list for the tobacco and cigarette folks, so I'd venture to guess that an eco-friendly filter isn't coming our way anytime soon. It’s very demoralizing to see these bits of litter in our parks, on streets and just about anywhere that the two aforementioned species congregate. While I recognize the choice these two species have made to smoke, I also wish to remind them that many of us choose not to smoke. We also choose not to litter. Therefore, when their right to smoke infringes upon our right to have a cleaner planet, we must draw the line and insist they curb their flicking and tapping habits and attempt to imitate those of us who prefer our planetary nest as free of litter as we can get it.

When is Enough - Enough?

I'm sure this will offend someone. I know. And I'm apologizing in advance. A real, truly sorry, apology. But I have a question. And I'd like an answer. When you are wanting a child, when is "enough" "enough"? I'm reading a story about a woman who has had, at last count, eight - yes, EIGHT miscarriages, and has one child. She and her husband have been through several IVF treatment cycles. It's just not working. Yet, she and her husband are trying yet another IVF cycle. She has one child. She wants another. When do you call a halt? When do you consider adoption? When do you sit down and thank your God for the child you have? When do you consider that, maybe in the grand scheme of things, one is all you're getting? When do you consider that, for some people, ONE would make them "over-the-moon" happy? Disclosure: I've been pregnant 4 times. I've had 2 kids. That's 50/50 odds, and the second one tried to deliver himself at 4 months. I figure I'm done. My body gave me a message. I had two kids, they're healthy, and I lost 2 kids. This was, of course, when IVF was in the time of "Baby Louise" and it was just outside of the realm of a "normal" couple. I have a friend who has gone through IVF. Adoption is, apparently, NOT on the table. They have no children. I don't know where they stand, and it's kind of a touchy subject. You obviously don't want to start a conversation with, "Hey, Sally - you pregnant yet? You still think adoption isn't a good idea?" Of course. That's insensitive. And I'm trying to NOT be insensitive. And I do know what it's like to lose a child. And I do know what it's like to give birth. But I still wonder. What drives couples to continue to do this? And when do you know that your body, your budget and/or your marriage has had enough? I can truly understand "baby hunger." Because when it was my "time" for having kids, it always seemed that EVERYONE was pregnant, except me. Please believe me when I say that. However, I have to say, in all honesty, that if it didn't work out, I would have taken it as a "sign" that it wasn't supposed to work out. I wonder why - and how - couples put themselves through this. This kind of begs a bigger question. Just because the technology is out there, are you compelled to use it? Would you feel that you'd "failed" at trying to be a parent if you chose not to use it, or if you went through "only" one cycle and it didn't work? Maybe these questions are unanswerable. Maybe I'm not meant to know the answers, and maybe it's all just too metaphysical in its entirety. But I still wonder. I would like to think that everyone who WANTS to be a parent can be one. But I read the stories, and I know what my friend is going through. And I wonder.

Pecked to Death by a Duck

The other day, the youngest boy decided to try out his testosterone. Wasn't the first time, and at 18, it's likely not going to be his last! After a long day's work (double shift), I walked into the house, intent only on vegetating in front of the TV with a book. Then, the youngest boy comes home - just about the time I'm in my jammies and ready to wind down for the night. He starts in. "Why can't I......?" "You always..." "I never get to...." I told him that if he wanted to start an argument, he needed to pick his time better, and not start something that I was too tired to finish. "Oh, so now, it's MYYYYYYYYYY fault???" (Can't you just hear the whine there?) I said, "You know, fighting with you at this point is like being pecked to death by a duck. Knock it off; I'm tired and I'm going to bed. If you want to continue this, do it in the morning, when I'm awake." I read a book once, called "Pecked to Death by Ducks" - and it was hysterical. I think I still have it hanging around. It was Dave Barry-esque and a really good read. And it was appropriate. Ever have a fight with a teenager who was ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN that you were, by doing (or not doing) whatever it was at the moment, TOTALLY RUINING his or her life? And isn't that kind of like being pecked to death by a duck?? I can't wait till he gets to the age of the older one, who, every once in a while will tell me, "You know, mom, you were right about...." As a mom, you live for those days.

Winter has arrived. And I almost....ALMOST have a UFO finished for my dear hubby! I started a scarf for him - a garter ridge pattern where the middle 10" or so is a K3, P3 rib. I have SIXTEEN ROWS to finish. And it's supposed to snow about a foot tonight; with cold temps forecasted for the week. Hurray!!!! A project that will be finished within the SEASON it's intended to be used! I'll post pictures of it as soon as it's done.

Is Civility Dead???

Just checking, but I have to ask. Is civility dead? I'm not even talking about "real people" - I'm talking about online civility. Where did so many people leave their manners? I do participate on several discussion threads; and I do read other's blogs. And I wonder where the manners are. Can we just disagree, or must we dissolve into name-calling, swearing and complete nincompoopery when it comes to those who "aren't like us"? Look at the television - Rosie and The Donald are fighting, and so he calls her "fat." Well. There's a news flash. I'm sure Rosie knows she's fat; just like Donald knows his toupee is awful looking. But here's a man who bills himself as "the best" at what he does. And the minute someone pokes a hole in his seriously out-sized ego, he calls her "fat." Oy, Donald. Get over yourself. Rosie knows she's fat. And you know what? While you don't give a hoot about what "normal" people think, you've alienated a whole group of people - fat women. Since the rate of American obesity is pretty high, that's a significant demographic. And, I'm just speculating here - there just MAY be some pretty rich fat women. Who knows? Donald, you may have just shot a future investor in the foot...or wherever. People online have a curious habit. They think they're invisible so they can be whatever they want at the moment. It's the ultimate fantasy life. I could tell you that I'm 5'9" with long dark hair and I weigh 145. Well. That's hardly the reality. I'm 5'4" with short grey hair and I weigh a little more than that. Hey - I'll admit my height, but you gotta at least give me a break on the weight thing. I post on a board through Weight Watchers. I've blogged about a wonderful group there, my Knitsters. But there is another board that I post with, and I have to tell you - it's a typical hate-filled relationship with a couple of posters. The WW people obviously don't want to implement some easy controls, so they let these people thumb their noses at their first rule: Be courteous. These people seem to think that ANYONE who doesn't agree with them is "fat, an idiot, a moron, and stupid." Oh, it's such a waste of bandwidth. I use WW online - that's my meeting. I pay for that. These "trolls" are non-paying members who are allowed access to the boards. I have a suggestion for WW: enforce your rules. It will make for a happier community.

Online Magic...

OK, so I do Weight Watchers online. And I visit their message boards, because it's a great way to get tips from people, get the support you'd normally get going to a meeting, and just chatting with people who have similar interests. One of those message boards has been incredibly rewarding to me since we're knitters and we've combined our love of knitting with our urge to help people; we do prayer shawls. Now, we're a nation-wide group of women - we've never met face-to-face. But we have 2 common bonds: Weight Watchers and knitting. And we've combined the two. So far this year, we've done 3 shawls, each of us knitting anywhere from 3 to 5 inches per shawl. We've sent them on their rounds with a card that each of us signs, putting her city and state in with a message to the recipient. Sometimes we know the person. Sometimes we don't. This has probably been one of the most rewarding things I've ever done. We've donated shawls to a free clinic, a woman who's having chemo, one of our own(!) who was hoping to donate the shawl to a womens shelter, but who ended up having a major health issue of her own; and we're going to start another one in the new year. It's a simple prayer shawl, k3 p3 pattern. We have knitters who can whip out a pair of socks in a weekend, and then there are knitters like me - slow and poky, barely out of "scarf school." This pattern can be done by any of us. And it's great. We've come closer together as knitters - and we all know that knitters are sisters-in-fiber anyway! We call ourselves "KnitWits" - and refer to each other as "Knitsters." These women, whom I've never met except through e-mail and the message boards, are friends. No, you don't have to meet face-to-face. You just need a common bond. Being knitters is our bond - and our craft is helping people from all over the country. As the year ends, I reflect on what we've done and I can truly say that I'm blessed to be a part of this group.

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

Aretha sang about it. It’s popular today for companies to say that they treat both their employees and customers with it. And it’s in every school handbook we know about. What is it? R-E-S-P-E-C-T. Respect for others, self, and property. Recent incidents in local school systems point out the need for respect. But then we ask: How and by whom? Respect must be earned. But first, it must be taught. It is the parent’s job, first and foremost, to teach children how to respect others, their property, and their rights. We live in a society circumscribed by rules, laws, and manners. These manners include being polite to others, considerate, and respectful. Respect is due, traditionally, to adults from children, simply because adults have lived longer. That’s an arcane custom, but not one which should be arbitrarily tossed out in the current “got to be my kid’s friend” climate of child-rearing. Children need to learn that “respect” doesn’t mean one person is always right. It doesn’t mean one person “is the boss of the other.” Respect is the basis by which we engage each other in today’s society. Those who’ve been taught to respect one another are usually those who’ve been taught by their parents that each person is important in this world. The Golden Rule says, “Love one another as I have loved you.” Did you know that this is but one version? In most mainstream religions, this rule exists. Buddhism: “Hurt not others in ways that you yourself would find hurtful.” (Udana-Varga 5:18) Judaism: “What is hateful to you, do not to your fellow man. That is the entire law; all the rest is commentary.” (Talmud, Shabbat 31a) Islam: “No one of you is a believer until he desires for his brother that which he desires for himself.” (Sunnah) How do you treat people? How do you allow others to treat you? How do you treat your children? Your spouse? Your best friend? Look at these relationships and then look at what you are teaching your children. Are you teaching your children that there is a “right” way to speak to people and a “wrong” way? Are you teaching your children that the “rules” apply to “others” and not to them? Are you teaching your children the basics: “please’ and ‘thank you’ when interacting with others? Do you teach your children by example? Do you treat others well? Are you respectful in your dealings with others, or are you always thinking “It’s them against me”? Because how you treat others – those close to you and those with whom you deal on a daily basis – forms the core of how your children learn to live in this world. It’s troubling enough in today’s society. Guns are in schools. Kindergartners bring weapons to class. Television and music seem to hold more sway over kids than parents do. It’s time to bring this back around. Bring back your basic parenting skills and teach your kids respect. This will help them function as they grow to be productive adults. They can’t live in this world without it. And without it, it won’t be much of a world to live in.

Wedding Cake...

Here's a wedding cake I made recently. It was five different flavors: banana, cinnamon spice, fudge marble, chocolate and white. Many of the guests took the wedding cake to the "chocolate fountain" to add their own bit of flavor.

It's not a trauma unless you MAKE it a trauma...

In yet another misguided attempt to "protect" our children from the "bad" things in life, teachers are now being urged by parents to avoid red ink when correcting papers, because the red ink is “offensive,” “causes stress to the students” and is “degrading.” Give me a break. I am grateful to all the good teachers I’ve had. I’m grateful to Mr. Novotny from grade school – who used plenty of red ink and somehow we survived. I’m grateful to Mr. Wnek, even though I still don’t like math much. I’m grateful to Sr. Bonaventure during my high school years. Those notations by Sr. Bonaventure on my Spanish papers made the muddy waters of learning a lot clearer. Mrs. Kallan – now a retired judge – put more red on papers than most. But she taught me the craft of writing. She taught me the value of the correct turn of phrase and how to write clearly, organizing my thoughts so that the reader could follow each step of the way. Poor Mrs. Reichenbach had the dubious job of teaching me algebra. I’m not exactly a mathematical genius, but I learned. Sr. Matthias Marie went through our typing exercises like Sherman through Georgia. But thanks to her, I type as easily as I speak. Mr. Ernst at my junior college used red to teach us the finer points of Criminal Justice theories. Mr. Asher – he was another one who used the color of correction frequently. But as a philosophy teacher, he taught us the art of the argument. You may not have liked their methods, but if you were paying attention, you learned. Professor Howe and Professor Miller at my university were – and are – both talented teachers who used their share of ink to make sure that we understood the basics of logic and critical thinking. And there were other instructors in accounting, finance, marketing and business classes. Again, by that time, red ink shouldn’t have raised any red flags that you didn’t know were coming. All students are stressed, no matter where they are on the learning continuum. I have a hard time with the recent spate of protests about the “red ink” controversy. Aren’t parents (and students) being just a tad too sensitive? Believe me, I’ve talked to plenty of teachers. They don’t have time to sit there and think up ways to aggravate you or your kid. Think about it…the red ink oftentimes said, “Good Job” or “Nice Work.” The red ink was a sign that the teacher was paying attention to those hours of homework. Sometimes, a paper that just had a grade on it was disappointing. I wanted the “goodies” on my papers just as much as I needed the corrections. There are so many other things that urgently need fixing in our education system. Funding it adequately springs to mind. And gee, so many schools are “in the red.” But nobody seems bothered by that red ink. It’s only the ink on the students’ papers that appears to bother anyone. Self-esteem is important, but so is learning to take direction and learning to accept criticism. Kids need to learn that very important skill. They need to know that sure, a teacher is tough. But life is tougher. And when you’re on the job and your boss hands you back a memo that is – shall we say – creatively and heavily edited, you should resist the temptation to call your mom to have her complain. If you don’t learn the lessons life hands you early on, there’s a good chance that the next thing of color you’ll see on the job is a pink slip.

More Knitting Pics

This is a "Big Long Scarf" done in THREE different yarns. It's 6.5 feet long and was sold for $55 at a charity auction. The three yarns are: Lion Eyelash, Chenille, and Homespun. It was done on size 17 needles.

Knitting Pictures

Here are some photos of my knitting projects.

This first one is my felted purse. Done with 100% Peruvian Wool, in the round, the pattern is from my LYS. It was easy to learn to knit in the round, and now, I-cords are my favorite things!

Men - A Fashion Faux Pas?

In my time as a columnist, I’ve written about many things. I’ve discussed world and local events, and the trend toward “butt advertising” where young girls (and some women who should know better) feel compelled to wear shorts and sweatpants sporting such phrases as “Princess,” “Bootylicious,” and my all-time favorite, “Notre Dame Mom.” And I’ve written about Red Hatters (and gotten more kudos than criticisms, by the way) and rude video-camera parents. But now it’s time to discuss real summertime fashion gaffes. Men. No, men aren’t out of fashion. But it seems that some men have a collective gap in their sartorial sense when summer hits. My dad, with a real talent for turning phrases, had a good rule of thumb for clothing. He used to say, “That outfit looks like they tried to squeeze 5 lbs. of sausage into a 3 lb. casing.” Skin-tight is a no-go for more than 90% of the male population. Unless you’re the next centerfold for Cosmopolitan, don’t be painting on your pants. Same with shirts so tight the buttons strain. It’s just not a good look. Buy bigger and just admit it. We’ll understand, believe me. Baggy pants don’t look good on anyone either, no matter what your age or physical condition. We don’t want to see your skivvies. Belts are good things. And anyway, how can you walk when the crotch of your pants is hanging somewhere around your knees? Pajama pants? Well, let’s dissect that. Pajama – bed clothing. Not to be worn outside, no matter how buff-and-tough you think you are. And yes, people really do see when you dash out to get the paper. Put a robe on. Better yet, get dressed. Ratty t-shirts make good rags. Period. If you must keep that t-shirt from college or your first concert, find someone to make a quilt or pillow out of it for you. Or learn to do it yourself. Hey, it’s done on a sewing machine, which is a power tool of sorts. Otherwise, the shirts are shop rags, guys. Same goes for any t-shirt that may have been white once in its life. Pit stains, food stains, tears and rips…they’re outta here! Tank tops are ok in certain circumstances. Those stretchy undershirts that go by a variety of names not necessarily printable here are not outerwear. Ever. Golf shirts and khaki shorts are very nice. But not with black socks that go half-way up your calf and dark shoes or sandals. Ditto with the white-socks-and-sandals gig. Try deck shoes or woven leather sandals. If you’re going to do flip-flops or sandals, do yourself a favor and have a pedicure. No, it’s not girly. It’s good for your feet. Please. No Speedos. Enough said. Wear sunscreen. Do us and yourself a favor. Beet red only looks good on…well, beets. If you wear a hat, please take it off when you’re listening to the national anthem, you enter a building, you’re in the presence of women (we love that), or you’re saying the pledge. By following these simple fashion tips, you can avoid (a) sunburn; (b) looking really dorky; and, (c) people pointing at you and whispering. Trust me - your favorite people will thank you for this attention to detail.

Red Hat Rant...

What IS it about the combination of red and purple, liberally encased in glitter and feathers of every sort, on women of a certain age that gets on my last nerve? In the spirit of disclosure, I must admit that I’m about 1 ½ years from being counted in that age group. I’m 48. And I’ve already warned my friends: NO RED HAT STUFF when I turn 50. Of my closest friends, only 1 has turned 50 so far. The rest are further away from contemplation of that year. But we’ve already had that discussion. The Red Hat Society (www.redhatsociety.com) started out innocently enough. Based on the poem by Jenny Joseph called “Warning,” a woman in Phoenix decided, around 2001 or so, that she was going to have fun as she grew older. She decided, like many others, that old age is a gift, not a burden. Ms. Joseph’s poem has become the Red Hat anthem, reading in part: “WARNING – When I am an old woman, I shall wear purple With a red hat which doesn’t go and doesn’t suit me.” Red Hatters (and others) seem to particularly enjoy the last stanza of the poem, which states: “But maybe I ought to practice a little now? So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.” The poem is empowering to some women, giving permission for them to be themselves after they’ve spent most of their adult lives caring for others. The notion of the Red Hat Society is not a profound one…they want to have fun. After all, we have enough doom and gloom in our lives. We should be able to gather with our gal pals and just flat-out enjoy each other and our lives. But somewhere along the line, it went a little sideways. Some women (not ALL of them) choose to indulge in an orgy of bad dressing and sometimes seem to claim a sense of entitlement that goes beyond “assertive” and borders upon “obnoxious.” That’s just wrong. As far as sartorial sense, there seems to be (again, in SOME women) an overabundance of polyester and spandex on mature figures; and an overabundance of glitter, feathers and flashing red pins. More disclosure? I like purple. It’s my favorite color – in all its shades. From the nicest lilac to periwinkle to a nice vivid shot of regal purple. But not paired with red. And not paired with anything flashing. And only if it fits appropriately so that I don’t look like a wayward Fruit of the Loom grape. I also like red. One of my favorite suits is a cardinal-red color that I think looks just spiffy. I’m just giving my opinion, but I have to tell you that, for me, if I’m over a certain age (and over a certain weight), the only time I should be wearing anything red and flashing is if there’s an ambulance wrapped around me. Let’s face it, there aren’t too many people who’re young who look good in spandex ANYTHING. Much less red and purple stretchy stuff. And the red shoes with the purple ensembles? Only if you’re Dorothy and on your way back to Kansas. Let’s digest that whole “over 50” thing. I know some absolutely fabulous women who are well past 50. They don’t need to be defined by bad wardrobe decisions. They’re so comfortable in their skins that I rather envy them. So should there be a cut-off for the Red Hat age group? Many would undoubtedly say no. But many women I know who are over 50 – and several well near the end of their 60s – say that the whole thing is an excuse for bad dressing and bad manners. At a recent event I attended, the Red Hatters were out in force. Admittedly, there were a few who were just darling. One woman was in a lovely lavender tweed suit and it was outstanding. Her outfit was tailored well, there was just enough of each color and the outfit fit her – she didn’t compete with what she was wearing. On the other hand, there were several women who came in and caused me to say to myself, “What was she thinking?” Even another friend of mine (who admits to being “well into” the Red Hat age group), when faced with a gaggle of Red Hatters, said to me, “Oh my.” But really. Are we still where we need to define ourselves by our outfits or “colors”? I would think – or I would hope – that by the time I feel the need to further define myself, it won’t be just by what I’m wearing. And anyway, the only time I want to be seen in feathers is if they’re angel wings.