Warning: Feminist Commentary Ahead

You'd have to be quite dead not to notice that Halloween is rapidly approaching.



It's Wednesday, in fact.



A day when all small children with normal parents dress up and walk around the neighborhood, or mall, or grocery store collecting candy. A day we remember with great fondness - Halloween parties at school, bobbing for apples, having costume parties, trick or treating from classroom to classroom. Going out with your siblings as soon as it got dark in whatever home made costume you could cobble together. One year, we dressed LilSis up as Dorrie the Witch (leg warmers were certainly popular that year). You'd come home and after your parents went through your candy and threw away anything suspicious (or confiscated what they wanted for themselves) the bartering and theft would begin. I hate taffy, and those grody peanut brittle candy things. I would trade like nine of those and all my nougats for a pixie stick, which I would promptly put up my nose (what can I say? I was twelve...I thought it was cool). Then after the sorting and bartering was complete, the hoarding and hiding and theft would begin, to last until Thanksgiving, until you threw away the things that you couldn't be induced to eat no matter how sugar deprived you were.



Simple times, right?



Newsweek was kind enough to provide me with an article, and this lovely photo:

Now, there's nothing wrong with wanting to be a pirate or even, um, Avril Lavinge. Or a witch. Nothing wrong at all. Good, classical outfits. When did witch and pirate outfits for little girls become sexualized? What parent in their right mind would let their daughter wear a french maid's outfit? Or a prison outfit? Let's look at that photo, shall we?

Belly, leg, leg, bosoms and leg, and the implied "jailbait".

I would honestly have to question the sanity of any parent, especially the sanity of any mother, who would purchase an outfit like this for their daughter, let alone allow their daughter out of the house like this. In fact, if I see a child dressed like this on Wednesday night I might have a stroke. Don't you think purchasing or allowing your daughter to purchase one of these provocative (read: pedophile? please rape me) outfits encourages them to think, in some small part of their immature and still developing brains, that they way to get what they want is by being sexy? Teaches them that the only value they have is obtained by trading on their reproductive organs and their implied promise? That the only way they can get what they want is by sexually appealing to men?

Before you go raising your man hating flag, just think about it.

How would you feel if you were little Daphne's Dad, and you let her wear the pirate outfit, and the fifteen year old boy that lives around the corner suddenly wanted to go trick or treating with your eleven year old daughter? I don't think you'd feel very good about that. What message does that outfit send to a man (I'm not saying men are bad, but just visual, as it was pointed out to me today...and the simple gestures women innocently make can be misinterpreted)? What would you think if your daughter Allison, who had previously been the apple of your eye, started sixth grade and became sullen and withdrawn from you? And her grades plummet, and she breaks curfew, and can't be found....and all she wants to do is spend time with some boy. Why? Why is that?

At some point we have to assume responsibility for what we allow our children to do. It's quite stupid to allow our daugthers to dress like sluts and our sons to act like assholes as children and then expect them to miraculously outgrow it as adults. Be consistent and be firm. Don't buy your children these costumes, these accoutrements of adolesence they crave. Give them an upbringing that will help them succeed, and not give them a sense of entitlement. Teach your children - of either gender - that sex is something to be respected and shared between people who care about each other, and that anything else is tawdry and meaningless. Give children a sense of self respect and self worth that isn't based upon beauty, or the size of their parent's home, or their parent's wallet.

And for god's sake, let your kids walk to the freaking bus stop!

Do you ignore the fickle finger of fate when she pokes you in the eye and tells you quite sternly to knock it off?

Case in point: Let's say you drink, and periodically drive. Maybe you have been followed by the police after leaving the bar for a few miles, only to be abandoned for something that looked like a better opportunity. Maybe you've been so drunk you haven't remembered how you got home. Maybe you get so drunk that you pick fights with people, and honestly don't remember or have a single clue why you walk into a bar or party and people leave the room rather than talk to you.

Don't you think that fate is telling you that your time is up?

Or in areas of romance. How many times do you introduce your special friend to your friends only to have them veto everyone you see before you realize that they don't have your best interests at heart? Or have you wanted to throw a relationship away only to have it come back at you like a boomerang, a clear sign that it was meant to be?

There are larger things to ponder in life than the annoyances of daily life. Cramps, alarm clocks, work, cow workers, etc. Think outside yourself.

The Case of the Missing Snake Boots

Well, it's Monday, and that's all I have to say about that.

The weekend went moderately well. SOMEONE drank too much alcohol on Saturday well before arriving at my house, and managed to make himself look like a teeny tiny bit of a fool. And for some reason I found embarassing, there was a lot of random talk of penises (peni?) and some not so gentle baiting of Mr. Manners which was noted but not really appreciated.

Dinner, however, was fabulous. Grandmom had a good time, and everyone else did as well. The pork loin was lovely. The weather was lovely. Millard's move went well (according to rumor).

Next: Thanksgiving!

Parental units arrived, with my little step doggies(? dog cousins? whatever they are) in tow, sometime after midnight last night, and brought the tv cabinet for downstairs, which now looks completely lovely. And clean. Did I mention clean? In fact, the whole house is cleaner than it's been in a while, but still not as clean as it should be. In fact, disgusted still at the state of the downstairs bathroom...you know, the one that was remodeled two years ago and now looks as though it needs to be redone again because SOMEONE put screws in the paneling and did all sorts of things that made my tongue and groove paneling come apart in places?

Off to bed we toddle about two am, after fixing mom's laptop so it would get on my network, and much discussions about how to make dad's router at home secure v. the wide arsed open connection he has now.

The right side of my head is so stopped up it is making my eye continously water. And I really want to go to sleep. And I want some new clothes.

Mr. Manners got an early present last night...by the time he got home from class, I was waaaayyyy to tired to move his present to the attic. Too heavy anyway. And what's up with my favorite Japanese place closing an HOUR early? And chinese too? I drove around for thirty minutes last night looking for any thing that was open, only to end up at Publix buying some mediocre steak and rice (I ate Rice Crispies).

Gotta love it.

Happy Friday, peeps!

Well, at least we continue to have rain. That's a positive thing. I am very tired, and have a lovely little cold brought about (I suspect) by the rain that has resulted in continual sneezing and blowing of the nose.

It's been a busy month, and a glimpse at the calendar reveals that the rest of the year is going to be just as busy. Mr. Manners and I have ONE free weekend between now and Christmas. One! Christmas is...ten weeks away? I have already completed half my Christmas shopping, and purchased my cards and made my list of card recipients. Haven't I been a busy bee! We've tickets for the Nutcracker, plans to go to Charlotte for the Ren Fest, birthdays, Handel's Messiah, Christmas, etc. And then it will be 2008.

I'm already working on my New Year's Resolutions...and the number one resolution is to toughen up.

As in, stop being so whiny. Get more aggressive about school. Finish the projects I need to finish around the house (and accept the fact that I'm stuck with that particular bad decision for a while). Learn to let go of the past; it's there, it happened, it isn't my whole life. Play more. Love life. Those kind of things.

What are yours?

Talking Bout Last Night

You know, Fry's Electronics is a bad place for me to go with any cash in my wallet.

I always hit the DVD aisle. I don't even let myself look at tv's. Frankly, I get pissed that I don't have a few grand to drop on a flat, itty bitty, super high res tv, so I stay out of that aisle.

Instead, I indulge myself with random purchases to add to my dvd library. Last night I was specifically looking for "Labrynth" (just released), and "The Dark Crystal" (ditto) and "The Last Unicorn" (don't laugh, but MidSis and I LOVED this as a kid, and hey...MidSis? Guess what I found....the entire Thundercats on DVD for $50....).

Did I find any of those theatrical greats? Ok, David Bowie in big hair and tights isn't exactly great theater, nor, I suppose, do movies about muppets and cartoon unicorns that turn into beautiful maidens qualify. As you've already suspected, the answer is a resounding no.

Instead, I purchased "Gentleman Prefer Blonds" (We're just two girls from Little Rock), "A Walk in The Clouds" (do NOT NOT NOT laugh...I think it's sweet, even if Keanu Reeves and a mummified squirrel have a lot in common) and "Caberet".

Now, I grew up in a family of Straight People. We All Appreciate A Good Musical. I, being a belty alto, appreciate any musical that has stuff in it that I can sing. "Caberet" qualifies (What good is sitting alone in your room/Commmeeee hear the music play). And it's a pretty good musical, and it deals with a lot of social issues (Nazis, abortion, free love, etc.).

I have never taken such a mocking in my entire life.

Really.

Dear Mother Nature,

Is it too much to ask you what you are doing?

One day, it's a pleasant and rather seasonaly appropriate low of 42. Nice and brisk, with cool air. Just enough to make you wear a jacket. The next day, it is 78, and raining. Now, don't get me wrong, we need the rain. We seem to be...what, 24 inches under for the year? So rain is a good thing, and we'd all appreciate a nice wet winter. But how about a nice cold one as well? I mean, it's almost November, and I got bitten by a mosquito this morning. At seven a.m. when I let the dogs out. Whatever happened to having a frost in Ocotober? Shoot, it's almost my birthday, and I have a closet full of lovely frumpy llbean sweaters to wear, and it hasn't even been CLOSE to being cold enough.

So please, Madam Mother Nature, how about a little rain, a little chill...

And while I'm at it, how's about a white Christmas?

Yours Truly,

Dear Liza

I'm adding a new link, folks, please go and check it out: http://www.gstc.blogspot.com/

This is the blog of the Georgia Sea Turtle Center down on Jekyll. They do really good work with rescue, recovery, tagging, and monitoring, and have a lovely state of the art facility.

LG and I were doing some random email chatter, as one tends to do in moments of calm, about our particular foibles. I realize, and I think she concurs, that we have an inability to live in the present.

We want the future, gosh darnit, and we want it now!

How do you handle that particular quandry?

Weekend Update

Well, spent the weekend off in the woods stalking Bambi. Saw a few....but only one was shot, and not by Mr. Manners. Saw a handful of shooting stars and had the loveliest weather I've ever experienced in late October. I have some lovely nature photos to post for you later in the week, when I'm not so tired.

The only bad thing was Friday night, I had about, oh, no sleep....that whole being in an unfamiliar place and all. I was a bit pissy most of Saturday, and tried to nap and couldn't...but now I know what to expect and so next trip will be better prepared with some home comforts. Like a sheet, and an extra pillow, and an ice pack. Maybe some no scent moisturizer? And some no scent conditioner so I can WASH MY DAMN HAIR? And maybe some cammo that fits; Mr. Manners was kind enough to let me wear his stuff but it's a wee bit big for me. Dork Girl!

The October sky at night in the middle of no where is a thing to behold. The Pleides, Orion, Casseopeia (can't spell), the Dippers....the sky was full and lovely and I wished I had my book of constellations, because I saw things I'd never seen before. Saw several meteorites.

We talked about going down in the spring for a longer period of time. I like the utter isolation of the place, to be honest. I even like it with the tv off - the silence and the periodic howl of the coyotes doesn't disturb me in the least (although peeing outside when the coyotes howl is a bit nerve wracking. you pee fast).

LG was kind enough to dogsit for me this weekend, so thank you!!!!! Your god doggies thank you!

Wait, I almost forgot! We stopped at some AwfulWaffle where all the workers must have been on Prozac and Valium, cause they were all some giddy, happy mother fuckers. I've never been in a WH where the employees weren't surly, tooth missing, grumpy old wrinkled crotchedy life- has-pissed-on-me-and-look-what-happened-when-I-pissed-back-people. These people smiled, had good customer service, sang, danced...I swear, I was looking around for a singing saucepan or a frigging french candelabra! And when refueling, the Indian gentleman behind the cash register kept shouting at people at the pump something incomprehensible about their cards, and everyone (now, this is south Geeeorgiya, folks) kept staring at him like he was from Mars.

In an internet first,

today I received my first Harry Potter porn spam.

Amazing.

As usual, IE at work isn't working properly, so I'll have to post this entire article from Forbes by Carl Delfeld of Chartwell Advisor, published on 10.17.07. It is the most accurate summation of why Bush's non policy regarding the weakness of our currency is ineffective and poor fiscal management. Read on.

"A Weak Dollar is Bad for America"

Martin Feldstein, the chairman of the Council of Economic Advisors under President Reagan, wrote an article for the Financial Times this week, which outlines why he believes that a more "competitive" or weaker U.S. dollar is good for America.

Even though I am a rock-ribbed Reagan Republican, I cannot overstate how strongly I believe that this opinion is incorrect. "Strong Dollar, Strong Currency" is more than a mantra for me since economic history indicates that no country has ever achieved greatness nor maintained it by debasing its currency.

Feldstein rolls out a litany of reasons why he believes America benefits from a weaker dollar. In short, increasing exports as well as maintaining growth and employment.

Here is my case for why a weaker dollar hurts America.

First, a weaker dollar translates into a cut in the real spending power of American consumers--in effect, a reduction in real income.

Second, a weaker dollar weakens the role of the U.S. dollar as the world's reserve currency. Why should investors and central banks around the world invest in US assets when their value is steadily declining?

Third, the chances of a weaker dollar leading to a sharp reduction in America's trade deficit is highly unlikely since 40% of the current balance is due to oil imports that are denominated in U.S. dollars. An additional 20% is due to trade with China, which is, of course, controlling the value of its own currency.

Fourth, a weaker dollar is inflationary since it increases the cost of imports.

Fifth, business leaders know that discounting prices may bump near-term revenue and profits but at a real cost to long-term profitability, not to mention inflicting damage to the brand name. This is what we are doing to the brand of America by trying to increase exports by lowering their price in the global marketplace. Better to stand firm on price and sell into global markets on the basis of what is great about American products: superior quality, innovation and service.

Sixth, investors seem to like a weaker dollar since the profits of American multinationals get a boost from foreign earnings being translated into U.S. dollars. Again this is short-term thinking and vastly overstated since most multinationals have sophisticated treasury departments that hedge currency exposures.

What a weaker dollar really does is to encourage American and international investors to invest in non-American markets. The more the dollar drops, the more global equities rise. Many Asian currencies are hitting record highs against the U.S. dollar.

The Australian dollar has climbed to a 25-year highs, while the Singapore dollar has touched 10-year highs. The Brazilian real, which has jumped 18% in value against the U.S. dollar this year, and the Indian rupee's sharp appreciation against the U.S. dollar during the past year, have supercharged U.S. dollar investors' returns in those markets.

According to EPFR Global, investors are pouring money into global funds--with net inflows of $96.94 billion into world equity funds so far in 2007, while taking out $9.6 billion out of U.S. equity funds. Brazil's local stock exchange, the Bovespa, reported that investors have injected $1.2 billion into the market in September alone.

Foreign investors slashed their holdings of U.S. securities by a record amount as the credit squeeze intensified, according to the U.S. Treasury Department. The Treasury said net sales of U.S. market assets--including bonds, notes and equities--were $69.3 billion in August after a revised inflow of $19.5 billion during July. The August outflow exceeded the previous record decline of $21.2 billion in March 1990.

Last and perhaps most importantly, I view a policy of weakening the U.S. dollar to improve America's competitive position as the path of least resistance.

Let's not roll up our sleeves and cut federal spending, greatly simplify our tax code to encourage productivity and achievement or reduce corporate tax rates and excessive regulation. Let's just wink and weaken and let our nation's currency drift lower on automatic pilot.

My view is that the value of a nation's currency reflects the perceived value of country in the global marketplace. Maintaining and strengthening the value of our nation's currency is in the best interest of American consumers, businesses and investors.

Realism

The press today is all atwitter about a certain school board's decision to hand out birth control to middle school girls (between 11 - 13, for those of you from abroad).

Of course everyone's knee jerk reaction is "Don't do it, you are encouraging them to have sex!" and "it's a bad idea"

First...in 1985, when I was twelve, I knew TWO pregnant twelve year olds. What makes people think twenty some odd years on things are different? Just a guess, but I'd say there are way more twelve year olds having sex now than there were in 1985.

Second....most kids today, due to lots of factors (hormones in food, obesity, etc) are having periods earlier and earlier. Periods and hormones are not great for early youth. Taking birth control pills to regulate your cycle, or your hormones, in effect to stabilize one tiny part of all the changes a teenage girl goes through is indeed a good idea.

But all we think about is fucking. Typical.

Right. No more Victoria's Secret

Evidently Posh is going to start shilling for them.

Their bras were shit anyway. They all fall apart after the first wash.

Now for your not so subliminal adverstising: Cadillac Advert

"When you turn your car on, does it return the favor?"

Sooo shameless.

You know what? I'm fucking old. I'm going to be 34 in a month. My whole life plan called for children at thirty. I'm childless. I'm likely to remain childless, I think, because by the time the rest of my life is ready to have kids it's going to be way too late.

My god how incredibly depressing. I think I'll go cry now. boo hoo! :-)

Today was the last day of class, and it was interesting.

I realize that I found yesterday boring because we did no creative thinking. We did only listening, and things that applied directly to our jobs. How dull is that?

Today we did exercises like "break into a team and brainstorm zany ways to improve a car (laser guided missle, in car pooper scooper, hemp seats, no carbon footprint)", improve the passenger experience on a flight (kids in a special section, no kids, better snacks, better movies, wireless net access and, ahem, Strippers On A Plane)....those kind of exercises. And then in the second half of the day we broke back into teams and did one of those: you've crashed, your pilot has died, no one knows you are missing (yet)...what do you do with these items? What is your plan? That was fun. It's nice to know I wouldn't die...well, not fast anyway. It was funny to see people's scores. Some people thought it would be a really good idea to have the Celestial Navigation book...in northernmost parts of Canada. Are you walking at night in the lake country? It's only good as toilet paper. What else was funny....yeah...everyone wanted the rum to drink, and not as a disinfectant or accellerant. And no one knew what to do with the tire...although I said it would make an excellent smoke signal (which was one of the right answers)....and no one got that you could cut it up to make a slingshot? WTF?

Anyway, I'm glad it is done. The timing of the class was perfect. I realize I was two seconds away from going postal at work, stress wise.

Happy Weekend!

Random Wonderings

What, praytell, is so special about "luxury" deoderant that it someone would pay 8 pounds sterling for it? (I'm sure there IS a way to look up pounds sterline in blogger, but I'm far too lazy to do it).

Yes, folks in the U.S....that's...oh, sixteen or seventeen dollars for a tube of anti smelly. And a smaller one than you buy right now at your local superwhatever for three or four dollars.

Does said deoderant magically apply itself once one's armpits are dry post shower?

Does said deoderant magically re-up it's deoderant like qualities of scent masking and possible anti moisture qualities in times of stress or after long periods of time?

Does it fly from your handbag or gym bag or briefcase mid meeting or pre interview or pre date to freshen up said pits?

And while the new "Elizabeth" looks really lovely, I think it's far too...clean to be historically accurate. Where is the squalor, the filth, the dirty people, the gross London air? Why does everyone look so healthy? Why doesn't anyone have the pox? Why is everyone so skinny? I don't think Cate's head is big enough to portray Elizabeth anyway...she seems to have had a phenomenally wide forehead, but that may have been when women plucked their hairline to make heir foreheads appear wider as a beauty measure. Has it struck anyone as ironic that someone from a British penal colony is playing the role of (arguably) England's greatest Queen? Ok, arguably....at least give me one of the most influential, non religious women in history?

Right, that's another topic. That one requires thought.

Thursday

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Wednesday

It won't surprise those of you who know me that the results of this work style test that I took for this week's class ranks me as an excessively High Dominant and a Moderate High Compliant. My Influence and Stability are below the fifty percent mark.

What does that mean?

I'm a Bitch who avoids Conflict! LOL

Seriously, it was amazing how dead on the mark some of the assessments were. For instance, people with my configuration burn off stress via exercise or by being alone. We tend to not like idle chit chat. We like our communication conscise. We don't like people touching our stuff. If you don't know the answer to something, don't snow, just say you don't know and that you'll get back to us, and do. Don't patronize, or ask our opinion if you really don't care. We don't say things we don't mean....ya ya ya.

Well, Darlings, it will be a short and post-less week from your favorite Bloggette.

For once, I am attending a work related training class that is actually interesting. I daresay, gasp, that I am actually.....learning.

Who'dathunkit?

So, let's give a hearty welcome to the newest member of the BBC - Princess Fred!

http://princessfred.blogspot.com/

Be nice! Fred needs love!

Welcome to the BBC, Fred!

Taking a break

From my Sunday night schoolwork rush to post two quotes from a book I'm reading called "A Woman's Book of Life" by Joan Borysenko, PHD.

"If a young woman's boundaries are healthy she can differ from another person in likes, behaviors and habits without undue conflict. She doesn't need to conform to the other in order to feel safe from rejection and there is no need to force the other to conform to her. The mutual respect of self and other is the cornerstone of intimacy, the prerequisite for mature love" (p. 74).

"A woman who has not yet resolved the developmental dilemma "how can I get my own needs met without being selfish towards others?" may give herself away to a man, honoring his opinions, needs and desires without considering her own. The result is that she loses herself in the relationship rather than growing through it." (97-98).

She also raises an interesting point about anorexia in preteens - potentially a reaction to fear of reaching sexual maturity - because everyone knows that by dropping below a normal threshold of weight and fat delays the onset of puberty. A point I'd not considered, but certainly a valid one.

It's an interesting read, and goes through all the phases of a woman's life, both mentally, physically, emotionally and spiritually from birth to death. Not too academic (boring) and easy on the old eyeballs.

The Time Has Come, The Walrus Said, To Talk of Many Things

Happy Birthday, Dad!

Listening to 90.1's Saturday night show with great Jazz Classics....brings to mind Eliza's idea of a great Saturday night.

Eliza would like to dress up in a long, formal gown, and go to a real ballroom or jazz club (and not a trout farting jazz band playing club, that plays that modern crap, but a classic jazz, dixieland, swing, big band kinda place that plays real music) and spend the night dancing. Not that herky jerky stuff that passes for dance today but real dance...ballroom dancing or the fox trot or the lindy or a tango or something.

Not, mind, that I can do any of these things.

I just think it would be a spectacular way to pass a Saturday evening.

Women Part Two

In all our silly and serious glory!
Paradise by the Dashboard Light?

My parents - aren't they cute?

Kristi, Ms. Monroe to you, with Colbretto the Opera Cat

Irish Wedding

Miss C, Miss Jen, and myself (the dress is gone - talk about body conscious - I had fat arms and no one told me!!!) LOL

I just love this picture. Isn't she darling?

My sis and a cousin

My baby sis as...well...a baby.

The worst blorette party I've been to (the only, actually). We had a male stripper. He was scary. I hid in the kitchen with another girl, who turned to me and said "if he comes our way, you are my girlfriend". Duh.

So nothing to say. I have rats in my garage, and I adore Jamie Cullum.

Really, go buy the DaveFM Park Pride CD

Women In History

I started thinking about women's obsessions with their bodies, and as I thought it occurred to me that what we desire to be today has never, ever existed throughout all our history. No one had no grey hair, or stray facial hairs, or straight/complete teeth, or painted finger/toe nails, or mommy jobs, or wore jeans with spandex, or Spanx, or possibly eyebrow rings, and certainly not magenta hair, or a body full of tattoos (in the Western world, anyway), or totter around on three inch titanium heels, or whitenened teeth, or lasered hair, or permanent makeup, or anything that we so strive for today ever really even existed.

So...in a tribute to all women everywhere, who are beautiful in all their shapes, I give you women from history, from the lens of art. And if I'm committing some kind of copyright violation, all these artists are well past moldering...so I think you should be happy they continue to get exposure!

Voila!

Velasquez, Woman Making Eggs

Botticelli

Hopper, Chop Suey

Gauguin, Moon and Earth Vermeer, The Lacemaker

Picasso, Women of Avignon

Sargent, Madame X (this is a favorite, I love her elegance)

Velasquez, Meninas

Klimt, called, I think, The Women

Mary Cassat, Toilette

Frida Kahlo, self portrait

Ruebens

O'Keefe, Iris (a small joke here, which I think you'll get if you don't think of flowers)

Straight from the Headlines (this week)

Again, Eliza trolls the internet so you don't have to!

1. There's something really wrong with a young woman that purports to love animals but then beats a litter of seven week old puppies to death. Bitch!

2. Do the allegations of corruption and brutality surrounding Blackwater really surprise anyone?

3. It's a sad world when a judge decides that KFed is the better parent material. It's obvious that neither BritBrit nor KFed comes from the best gene pool. Pity those children!

4. Wouldn't it have been nice for Diana if she had been pregnant and engaged? I'd like to think she'd found some happiness.

5. A 13 year old Florida boy was charged with first degree murder for choking and beating his 8 year old brother to death because the younger child ate a dessert, and the elder child feared he would be blamed for the missing food.

6. A 19 year old day care worker was fired after he was discovered with a nude picture of a three year old child in his wallet.

7. I still can't believe they made "The Kite Runner" into a movie. I couldn't even finish the book (sorry, got revolted at the rape scene and put it down).

8. For about two hours yesterday, some brilliant people at Stone Mountain thought that during the Worst Drought Ever they would turn on the snow making machine. Do they still have jobs?

9. Lastly, Mr. Sugg at CL has a GREAT article on the water crisis in GA:
http://atlanta.creativeloafing.com/gyrobase/Content?oid=oid%3A315295

Lies Straight from Your TV

I have news for you folks out there in reader land. Women do not sit around and have the following discussions.

"Suzy? Do you sometimes feel...irregular? You know..." glances at flat stomach encased in trendy jogging wear.

"Oh yes," Suzy chirps, as she unclips her iPod earbuds from her diamond stud encrusted ears, "I used to all the time until I started eating twice daily Bacteria!"

Note: Women under the age of 65 do not sit around and discuss bowel health.

Another favorite:

"Well, look who's here!"

"I KNOW, like this time last month, I SO totally would not have made it, you know? I would have just wanted to stay home and eat Haagen Das, and wear sweat pants, and cry and play with my cats and bleed to death, but now I'm on this new hormone called Spaz, and it gets rid of all my PPMD!!! It's so totally tubular!"

Note: Hot women do not go to parties and discuss outloud hormone problems or birth control.

I won't touch the Cialis or Viagra ones. I think at this point (ha ha) I've flogged that horse to death.

"What's the matter Harry?"

"Aw, Pookie, I'm worried about the kids. I can't sleep" Harry wanders off into the kitchen, belly poking out beneath his tshirt and picks up a magazine. "Huh, life insurance...now there's an idea. Suppose I die early of some kind of catastrophic diaster. Maybe I get impaled by a pine log that flies off the back of a truck on the highway, or crushed by some rebar that got hit by a semi and flipped over the median to land on top of my car, or maybe I get caught in a tornado and a bee gets forced into my eye and into the middle of my brain and I DIE. Would my wife and kids have any money? Maybe I should look into this life insurance thing"

Rule: Is there a rule for this one? Or is this about as silly as bears dancing around looking for toilet paper?

Other fallacies of television:

- buying that perfume will not ensure you wake up snuggling a cute baby and a hot man. Save your $100.

- really and truly, there is no shampoo that makes your hair look like a piece of silk. The cheap shit that smells bad cleans just as well as the expensive shit that smells good.

- high colonics have no medical value. Nor does taking a supplement to increase the size of your poop.

- tv wants you to think that there are people out there who are too ugly or too fat to have sex. Not true. Have you looked outside your front door lately? 'nuff said.

- beautiful people are happy. Yeah, beautiful people might look good, but that doesn't keep you warm when you are 80. Nice people are much better.

- you are not going to make money going to real estate or car auctions and then "flipping" what you buy. You'll end up bankrupt.

- the ablounger does not give you a flat stomach. Proper diet and exercise do that, not doing a million ablounger crunches a day.

- those period commericals where you have the woman going "ow" (for cramps), or moaning (because her pants are too tight), or holding her head (because she has a headache) are nothing like really having PMS or a period. And while we're here? If you have a yeast or bv infection, you don't look like a wannabe chav in a bad grey hoodie. No, baby, you are dancing around and trying to find creative ways NOT to scratch when that is all you want to do.

And last but not least

Products for gas. These, at least, are true.

"I have remained silent but deadly!!!" I laugh everytime this commercial comes on. What can I say? I'm really a twelve year old boy, I STILL think fart jokes are funny.

That's it for today. I have probably blogged myself out for the week.

TTFN!!!

An Atlanta man who, at age 19, was employed as an SS Guard with the Hitler Youth is facing possible deportation. The Justice Department’s Office of Special Investigations wants to deport this man, now 85 and a resident of this country since 1955, based upon the fact that he trained war dogs and purportedly worked at a guard at a concentration camp. He is elderly, married, and with a grown daughter.

Shouldn’t the punishment be relative to the nature of the crime?

This man was 19, and living in an authoritarian and conformist culture where any rebellion would have had you killed. We can be moral and upright and disgusted and say “I’d rather be dead than have done that!!!” but the truth is….NO YOU WOULDN’T!! If it meant saving yourself, and your friends and family, the death of strangers is nothing to protect loved ones.

He was a guard. A prison guard. He wasn’t the one known as “Ivan the Terrible”. He wasn’t Mengele. He wasn’t Hitler or Himmler or any one of the anonymous Germans who were responsible for the torture and murder of thousands of Jews, Gypsies, homosexuals, and anyone else who didn’t fit in to the ideal of the perfect nation.

Granted, he was a prison guard who trained attack dogs. Who knows if his statement is true (he was told he was training war dogs for the front line) or not? Did the records surviving the collapse of the Reich really detail the training plans for a 19 year old Waffen SS (child, really)?

I’m saying this: the man is 85. I’d say he’s not in the best of health. Now that he’s been “outed”, his life will never be the same. The public will continue to punish him; no word on whether or not he punishes himself. He is nearing the end of his natural life span. What crime would you charge him with? A warcrime? A crime against humanity? Where is your proof? Where are your photos, your statements, your evidence, your confession? You would deport someone based on an association and a presence alone? Where would you deport him to? Israel, who would execute him? Germany, who would be forced to repatriate him? His daughter is a U.S. Citizen – can you imagine how she will feel, knowing that she is also being punished for a sin that is not hers?

How scary is that…so….in twenty more years when we decide that everyone held in Gitmo was held illegally and tortured…would everyone who worked there, every soldier, every medic, every man of religious conviction, be held guilty and charged with a crime by association?

It’s a fine line, I think, to charge a man to say “you have to follow orders, but you must do what is morally right”. What is morally right to you may not be what is morally right to the masses! What is morally right to you may result in the death of everyone you know; and only you can decide how you reconcile your morality with your faith. And as we see all too frequently with the Iraqdebacle, what sits right with you morally might get you in the pokey, or dishonorably discharged.

This man needs to be left alone. His family needs to be left alone. I’ve read the comments of many folks of Jewish descent and survivors of the death camps, and their hatred is astounding. How can you so passionately hate someone whom you’ve never met? How can you hate someone who did nothing to you personally (presumably)? You hate a symbol, you seek an outlet and a focus for your pain, and this I can understand.

Punishing one man doesn’t bring back the millions who died.

What do you think people thought of the first idiot who drank fermented potato juice, got hammered, and proceeded to piss in the town well?

I’m pretty sure they stopped thinking about him after they drove him out of town.

Alcohol is a curious thing. Before water became a socially and medically required drink, and prior to the popularity of tea, everyone drank beer. Beer beer beer. Or wine. Or mead. Or other drinks depending upon your geographic location…but the point is, everyone drank. Even children drank some (although now we find this appalling, it IS historical fact, so get over it).

It seems to me that the drinking world went to pot with the advent of the industrialized age and the popularity and ease of production of two things: gin and rum. Women sold their children for gin. Men signed up for two years ‘afore the mast for naught but the promise of a drop or two of grog a day.

Alcohol has been used to render people unconscious (see conscription, or possibly Shanghai’d) for somewhat dodgy maritime purposes, legal or otherwise. Alcohol has, I’m quite sure, been used throughout history to get girls too drunk to say no, or too drunk to realize what was going on. It was used extensively medically prior to the discoveries (if you will) of morphia and whatever that stuff is you inhale and was very popular during the Civil War and now they use on TV to knock people out? You know what I’m talking about. The name just…eludes me. It’s been used to seal a deal (toast a wedding), christen a ship, christen a child, celebrate a victory, celebrate an anniversary…Posh Spice even used champagne to celebrate the birth of her children, immediately following the blessed event.

We drink to make us funny, to relax, to make us “loosen up”, to make us more appealing to the opposite sex, or worst of all, because we want to.

People have asked me quite frequently why I don’t drink. I’ve given you a whole host of historical reasons, now I’ll give you the personal ones.

Nature v Nurture

First, my entire family is probably genetically predisposed toward alcohol dependency and (not to mince words, for those of the family that read) depression of several varieties. I noticed at an early age that at the first signs of stress, folks would reach for a drink. I’ve no problem with a drink to take the edge off; I have a problem with four. The problem with this particular double whammy is that one behavior ALWAYS leads to the other. Alcohol is a depressant; it messes with the serotonin in your brain. If you suffer from depression, you have a serotonin problem. Why would you deliberately imbibe something that makes you make LESS serotonin, and gets rid of what little you have? It doesn’t make sense to me. So you drink, you feel a bit better, and then when you come off your drinking high you feel ten times worse, and for days. Is that worth the price of a few moments of drunken euphoria? It isn’t for me.

My second issue is with how people act when they are drunk. The stupidest excuse I have ever heard for drunken behavior is “well, people say things when they are drunk that they really mean and wouldn’t say when they are sober”. Some people do, true, and some people go so off their heads you shouldn’t trust anything that comes out of their mouth, even if they tell you the sky is blue. I have heard some of the ugliest, most pointless, meaningless and hurtful diatribes issue from the mouths of people who were drunks, who didn’t even have the sense to be remorseful the next day…because they’d no idea what they said. Just because you are drinking doesn’t give you an excuse to emotionally tilt at someone else’s windmills. Shut your mouth, and go sleep it off. Or at least have the sense to apologize for whatever you said/did the night before. Other people tend to just become emotionally mean. I actually think of Britney telling her kids, when she’d been reportedly drinking, that they were a mistake. Thankfully, those kids aren’t old enough to comprehend her words, but….everyone else is. We’ve all had a sister or brother or spouse or cousin who has gotten drunk and proceeded to blame us for every sin under the sun. If you’ve been there, you know it sucks.

Lastly, I don’t care for what it does to my body. I can generally have A drink and be fine. A drink – glass of wine, pint of cider, a beer. More than that, and I’m likely to have a migraine. The last time I drank a bottle of wine, and I had eaten, and I drank plenty of water – I had a migraine, and threw up several times, and felt terrible for several days. It made me crankier than normal So what’s the point? Why do something that makes me feel horrid? It doesn’t make sex any better. It doesn’t make me any more socially confident, or friendlier. It does nothing. I’m always conscious of the price I pay.

Now you know.

Do you ever wonder if you are genetically predetermined to make the same "types" of mistakes your predecessors did?

I wish my paternal grandmother was still alive. I have this odd sense that I'm treading in her footsteps, and yet I don't even know where the steps go, and nor did she, I guess. Even I admit that I'm more like my maternal grandmother than anything, except I'm still haunted by this idea that Carol and I have some things in common that the others don't. Is it even remotely normal to be mad at someone who died in 1985? Nothing certainly was ever the same. Ah, the burdens of the living.

It bothers me so much because her death was (to me) so unexpected. Whereas with Granddaddy, I WANTED him to go. He wasn't any where close to the man I knew, and it killed me to see him in such a state. Death was a blessing. And I had closure, a hand in his release, if you will. You have no such luxury at twelve.

Lest ye all go running for your drugs, I'm not depressed or psychotic. Isn't a girl entitled to a little melancholy now and then?

Well, ladies, it seems we have been right all this time.

You know those fights you have with your partner that completely set your teeth on edge, where you bite your tongue because you are quite afraid of what would come out of your mouth, and you have a decided urge to hurl a piece of crockery at someone's head?

Turns out, all this is *gasp* quite bad for your heart. The NY Times (reprinted here because IE here at work is misbehaving and erroring out when the Blogger widgets load) states:
By TARA PARKER-POPE
Published: October 2, 2007
Arguing is an inevitable part of married life. But now researchers are putting the marital spat under the microscope to see if the way you fight with your spouse can affect your health.

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Well
Tara Parker-Pope blogs daily about health.

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Recent studies show that how often couples fight or what they fight about usually doesn’t matter. Instead, it’s the nuanced interactions between men and women, and how they react to and resolve conflict, that appear to make a meaningful difference in the health of the marriage and the health of the couple.

A study of nearly 4,000 men and women from Framingham, Mass., asked whether they typically vented their feelings or kept quiet in arguments with their spouse. Notably, 32 percent of the men and 23 percent of the women said they typically bottled up their feelings during a marital spat.

In men, keeping quiet during a fight didn’t have any measurable effect on health. But women who didn’t speak their minds in those fights were four times as likely to die during the 10-year study period as women who always told their husbands how they felt, according to the July report in Psychosomatic Medicine. Whether the woman reported being in a happy marriage or an unhappy marriage didn’t change her risk.

The tendency to bottle up feelings during a fight is known as self-silencing. For men, it may simply be a calculated but harmless decision to keep the peace. But when women stay quiet, it takes a surprising physical toll.

“When you’re suppressing communication and feelings during conflict with your husband, it’s doing something very negative to your physiology, and in the long term it will affect your health,” said Elaine Eaker, an epidemiologist in Gaithersburg, Md., who was the study’s lead author. “This doesn’t mean women should start throwing plates at their husbands, but there needs to be a safe environment where both spouses can equally communicate.”

Other studies led by Dana Crowley Jack, a professor of interdisciplinary studies at Western Washington University in Bellingham, Wash., have linked the self-silencing trait to numerous psychological and physical health risks, including depression, eating disorders and heart disease.

Keeping quiet during a fight with a spouse is something “we all have to do sometimes,” Dr. Jack said. “But we worry about the people who do it in a more extreme fashion.”

The emotional tone that men and women take during arguments with a spouse can also take a toll on their health. Utah researchers have videotaped 150 couples to measure the effect that marital arguing style has on heart risk. The men and women were mostly in their 60s, had been married on average for more than 30 years and had no signs of heart disease. The couples were given stressful topics to discuss, like money or household chores, and the comments made during the ensuing arguments were categorized as warm, hostile, controlling or submissive. The men and women also underwent heart scans to measure coronary artery calcium, an indicator of heart disease risk.

The researchers found that the style of argument detected in the video sessions was a powerful predictor for a man or woman’s risk for underlying heart disease. In fact, the way the couple interacted was as important a heart risk factor as whether they smoked or had high cholesterol, says Timothy W. Smith, a psychology professor at the University of Utah, who presented the study last year to the American Psychosomatic Society.

For women, whether a husband’s arguing style was warm or hostile had the biggest effect on her heart health. Dr. Smith notes that in a fight about money, for instance, one man said, “Did you pass elementary school math?” But another said, “Bless you, you are not so good with the checkbook, but you’re good at other things.” In both exchanges, the husband was criticizing his wife’s money management skills, but the second comment was infused with a level of warmth. In the study, a warm style of arguing by either spouse lowered the wife’s risk of heart disease.

But arguing style affected men and women differently. The level of warmth or hostility had no effect on a man’s heart health. For a man, heart risk increased if disagreements with his wife involved a battle for control. And it didn’t matter whether he or his wife was the one making the controlling comments. An example of a controlling argument style showed up in one video of a man arguing with his wife about money. “You really should just listen to me on this,” he told her.

What’s particularly notable about the study is that the men and women filled out standard questionnaires about the quality of their relationships, but those answers were not a good predictor of cardiovascular risk. The difference in risk showed up only when the quality of the couple’s bickering style was assessed.

“Disagreements in a marriage are inevitable, but it’s how you conduct yourself,” Dr. Smith said. “Can you do it in a way that gets your concerns addressed, but without doing damage at the same time? That’s not an easy mark to hit for some couples.”
************************

So, ladies, express yourself. Yell, scream, cry. I try so hard NOT to lose my composure that I give myself headaches, grind my teeth, and cry...when honestly I'd rather throw something, or go for a run, or scream.

Just don't toss any crockery!

I'm Not That Innocent

Really?

Could have fooled me.

Better for Britney's "mistakes" that they go live with their father, who by all accounts is an actual parent.

Memo to Britney: Stop with the nose candy, close your legs, put on some clothes, figure out who you are, and remember that you are now a parent (it isn't all about you anymore).

Nobody Puts Baby in a Corner

Remember the movie "Dirty Dancing" when Patrick and Jennifer are discussing dancing and the concept of personal space? Arms and eyes lock, they dance and dance quite intimately, but do not intrude upon the others personal space.

This is, I think, a lost art in modern society. Think about it. You are out having a nice dinner, and someone bumps into you. How often do you hear an apology? You are out shopping, and you bump into someone; do you offer an apology? You are walking in the park and you pass a gaggle (gaggle: three or more fat people who insist on walking abreast and hogging the whole trail)...they don't move as, you know, they can simply bowl you over, and force you to step aside. Whatever happened to politeness? Stepping aside? Walking single file when being passed?

I think we've lost our concept of personal space not only in the public space but in the private space too. I look at the relationships in my family, that of my grandparents and that of my parents, and I see marked differences between what they do and what my peers are expected to do. It isn't necessary for my father to know where my mother is, or my mother to know what my father is thinking at all times. My parents both know people individually that the other person doesn't know. If one person or the other needs alone time, they get it - they go for a ride, for a walk, to the store, or sit on the back porch and read a book. Even with my grandparents - granddaddy was always quite happy to putter around in the garage while grandmother did...whatever inside the house.

In fact, she told me a little story that I think fits in well with today's blog. My grandfather used to like to sit next to grandmom on the couch and...well, snuggle is the wrong word, I think pet might be closer. He'd like to sit next to her at night, while they were watching the news or PBS and want to pet her somehow. The worst, she says, was rubbing her feet. She does not like to have her feet rubbed. She has never liked to have her feet rubbed. She had told him so on numerous occasions. So one night she simply told him that this was her relaxing time, and that she was not relaxed, and that he should stop. They spent the rest of their married life happily watching television in two separate chairs. The moral of the story? He thought that he was doing something nice for her, and she thought he was doing something annoying. One man's trash is another man's treasure.

I think that modern relationships create, for better or for worse, an aura of dependence upon the other person. I think our lovely little media fosters this image as well. It certainly is everywhere...I mean, what sells? Sex, right? And you can't have actual sex without a partner, right? So....hm. And what does the media think that men find appealing in women? Certainly not a woman who can take or leave a man, who is independent, who can take care of herself. Nope. We call those women bitches. Nah, it seems that the media likes to encourage women to be freaking ditzes, helpless little I can't tie my shoe without some help Lohiltonites. Why?

Lohiltonites are completely transparent. They haven't a thought or emotion that doesn't immediately pop out of their mouth like the worst sort of verbal diarrhea. They have no reserve, no measure of privacy. Their entire life is a game of Truth or Dare. They are post modern Barbie Tarts, meant to be dressed up and shown off and fucked until they reach their expiration date, and then tossed aside. They are meant to be compliant little pieces of barely emotive combinations of carbon and water that somehow manage to toddle along on two legs.

And this is what little girls have to look up to?

I was on about space, right? Personal space? It's a lost art. I like to be alone. It's good for me. It allows me to decompress and unwind. Some people have a drink, some people go for a run, some people smoke, some people paint. I like to be by myself. I might clean my house from top to bottom, or have a glass of wine and a bubble bath, or read a trashy romance novel. The point is - there is no one there to have a demand upon my attention. And I don't feel the NEED to have someone there 24/7 either. I don't need another person to Validate Me.

That's what I think we've come to. We look to our partner in our relationship to Validate Us as a Human Being. Someone Loves Me So I Must Be Ok. And yet love is so complex and so ever changing and so very brilliant in it's uniqueness...how can you pin it down to one point in time?

It's interesting to be constantly at two ends of the same pendulum. I don't like it, truth to be told, and would prefer to suffer from constant idle mediocrity. You?

Water

Dear Alabama and Florida:

We are very sorry that there is no water in the Chattahoochee for you by the time it finally reaches your borders. Did we fail to mention that most of the river resides in our state? Maybe you should start looking into desalinization plants? And Florida...do retirees really need to drink water anyway? Can't they drink orange juice instead? Just a thought.

Love,

The State of Georgia, your Imperialist Neighbor

********************************************************

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to determine that completely unrestricted growth, a lack of available water (all lakes in GA, btw, are man made), a hundred year weather pattern of decreasing rainfall year over year means that you have less and less water to draw from.

Build more houses. Build more office spaces with ponds and lakes. Allow beautiful professional landscaping to be built that requires daily watering. Fail to fine people (yes, City of Alpharetta, I'm talking to you about that stretch of Old Alabama Connector where the businesses on both sides of the road water the ROAD every morning) who usage of sprinklers is improper. Don't get me started on the gradual de-forestation of our state. Or the dwindling presence of groundwater. Or the greed of politicians and corporations who sell entire forests of trees to paper rapers, who then fail to replant or replant with sub standard trees. You know trees attract moisture, right? Just checking.

It seems to me that people have varying degrees of a need for passion in their lives. No, I don’t mean sex – physical passion – I mean the desire for the ups and downs of emotional life. Some people really seem to enjoy being in situations where they can poke and prod their partners and be treated in kind, and to revel in the emotional upheaval that ensues. Other people are more remote, and treat passion as a necessary stop on a long drive – like a potty break on a road trip – something you do once in a while to refresh yourself, but not a place you stop and stay.

The X was a man of constant public passion. He was never happy unless he was in the middle of some kind of self created turmoil, the center of all attention, nailed on a self imposed angst ridden cross. Trust me when I say that that level of maintenance has a high price indeed. If I look at him dispassionately, I can tell you that his constant focus on passion leaves him unable to focus on anything else in his life. It became exhausting to participate in his roller coaster; after a while one just pulls the emergency brake and gets off the ride.

There are quiet, passionate people. Those who are so unassuming that you know nothing of their lives other than their public façade, until the day you see or hear that one spouse has killed the other, or a mother has slain her children and then herself. There are people who abandon their entire lives and careers and move across the world to feed indigent people in the Sudan.

And there are people who have no control over their passions. People whose every waking moment and though is consumed with whatever they are focused on for the moment. You know, like those nutty people who go ga over the newest online multi player game, and stalk Ebay auctions looking for virtual real estate to build their empire? You know who I talking about. Like the couple who recently made the news – their children were forcibly removed from their home and the parents charged with abuse. The children were starving and living in squalor, while the parents had state of the art technology and were playing some online role playing game.

Again, passion gone awry.

Where do you fall? Who are you?

Of course, I subscribe to "The Writer's Almanac" Email...because I love Garrison's voice.

Quote of the day:

F. Scott Fitzgerald said, "What people are ashamed of usually makes a good story."

My Momma Done Tole Me

If you can't say anything nice, keep your mouth shut.

You catch more flies with honey, not vinegar (thanks, grandmom).

Some things are better left unsaid (yes, your ass does look fat in those pants).

People in glass houses should not throw fuschia pots.

Every cloud has a lining. Whether or not it's silver is a matter of interpretation.

Wash everything in cold. Except towels, which ye shall wash in hot, lest they smell.

Put lemon in your hair to lighten it in the summer.

Always pick up a penny. Who cares what side it's on? You are still one penny richer!

Once in a while, do something random. Pay someone else's toll. Tip your server 40%. Pay a stranger's tab. Drop $20 in the Salvation Army bucket at Xmas time.

Feminist Bullshit

So here's what I believe:

1. Men and women are equal, and should be equal partners in all things.

2. Men should learn to do their fair share of housework. I don't think that the Justice League has a super talent called "Ignorus Dirtus".

3. Women enjoy sex just as much as men, although perhaps not as often.

4. Men and women have obligations to each other and to society - to do the right thing.

You know what dating has taught me?

1. Never tell the truth
2. Don't trust anyone
3. Never let anyone see the real you

and

most importantly

I should just join a nunnery, because I am just not worthy of being dated!

:-)

My mom always said I had terrible taste in men!

Ever have days where you feel like the biggest tool on the planet? Like you've let yourself be agitated into doing something stupid, and it matters to no one but you (because you are the only one who has to pay the price)? Icky.

It seems that despite my best intentions life will never run smoothly.

In talking to Miss Molls, I was struck with a moment of envy. She is so happy with her life, her husband, and their path to love and to marriage was so simple...that...well, I don't know what to do.

I am one of those people, I think, for whom nothing comes easily if it comes at all. Please believe me when I say it's not of my own chosing. If I could suddenly zap parts of my brain and heart and make myself into a lesser being, there a days/moments/seconds where I would gladly trade all the complexity that I am for a much simpler being.

Monday Madness

Just because I love you all, go and dig this site....

The captions are as funny as the dresses....

http://www.visi.com/~dheaton/bride/the_bride_wore.html

In fact, this might be my favorite (Called Mars Attacks)...can you believe women actually pay money to look this bad? Ok...my laptop is bad. IE is bad.

Go and look for the Mars Attacks Dress...freaking hysterical.

Remember when the music/came from wooden boxes hung with silver wire....

Nostalgia.

The desire or ability to live joyfully in one's past.

My father wrote a song for me when I was a little girl....

"Little girl you look a mess/you've gotten/jelly stains upon your dress/and peanut butter in your hair/defying laughing standing there"

It goes on, but you get the idea.

There's nothing out there like the love of a parent for a child. Treasure it while you have it.

Granddaddy

"Louis Millard Wood, Sr., age 81, of Marietta, died February 7, 2007. Louis was a native of Atlanta and graduated from Russell High School, as well as Georgia State University. He served in the US Army during WWII. Louis retired from the US Department of Labor, Wage and Hour. He is survived by his wife, Ethel Ragan Wood; children, Louis Millard Wood, Jr., of Sandy Springs, Susan Chaffin of Charlotte, NC, Christopher Ragan Wood of Marietta, and Nancy Sparks of St. Augustine, FL; eight grandchildren." (AJC)


Granddaddy is in the backpack; on his way to his final resting place.

The dunes (that didn't really exist in my childhood) in front of the beach house we used to rent.

Last photo before Mr. Manners kindly turned the camera off, as I de-shoed myself and walked out into the ocean to scatter his ashes.

Dear God,

Now I lay me down to sleep,

I pray the Lord my soul to keep,

If I die before I wake

I pray the Lord my soul to take.

God bless everyone everywhere

And thank you for all the gifts you've given me

My friends and my family.

Amen.

Maddy and Zoe

Mentioning dogs, of course, brought this to mind:

Man!

God Dog

Not

Dog Dog

Ever have those weeks where you are just off? That is just this week for me. I'm just off. I've had a low grade migraine since Monday afternoon that I just can't shake. I realized that when I did my great Charity Clothing and Shoe purge I gave away all my dress shoes except one pair, forcing me to purchase another. My face is still dry as all get out, although no longer swollen. I am sooo tired. Maybe I need iron. I'm falling asleep at my desk! Am now eating a cracker from last week.

I did see my dog dog last night....

There are some things that are just rude.

My across the cul de sac neighbors are teenage boys, and of driving age, with friends who have no manners. Said friends like to show up after school to pick up said neighbors, and rather than park their mother's mini van and go and knock on the door, they like to sit in the cul de sac and honk repeatedly.

I, princess of manners that I am, while taking out the trash today decided enough was enough and yelled at the hooligans "dude, lay off the freaking horn and go knock on the door!"

Imagine my surprise when said hooligans did pull into the driveway and DID go knock on the door.

Will wonders never cease.

Officially not a good day:

face molting - check

toenail ripped off while tripping walking up stairs in sandals - check

Do forgive me, for I find this terribly amusing:

Warnings on the back of an over the counter medicine:

Uses: For temporary relief of external anal and genital itching.

Do Not Use: in the genital area if you have vaginal discharge. Consult a doctor.

Do Not Put: directly into the rectum by using fingers or any mechanical device or applicator.

Stop Using if: Rectal Bleeding Occurs.

Uh....mechanical device? WTF are people DOING to themselves these days?

I was laughing hysterically while standing in line reading the warning label.

I'm not sure anyone else will get the joke.

Vanity

Thy name is Eliza

So I went to the dermatologist last week because my skin has regressed to a state not seen since I was about twelve and just beginning menarche. Left quite happy with some samples – benzaclyn for morning use, and differin for evening use. Wednesday morning, after differin use – skin was nice and even and not blotchy and all and all quite happy. Thursday morning benzaclyn use…burned. Friday morning, burned, and moisturizer burned, and skin started to turn red. Did not use any differin that night, nor did I use anything on Saturday morning but my face decided that it was tomato season, and that I should swell up, turn bright red, and look like someone punched me in the face – in both eyes! Lotion hurt, water hurt, soap hurt, crying hurt. My fingers were swollen, my neck was red and swollen…the works. Out of sheer desperation, went to Walgreen’s to talk to the pharmacist, who looked at me and said “allergic reaction. Throw it away. Take lots of benadryl”. Which helped (and a solpo to deaden my face…my last one!!!). I managed to just sleep through most of Saturday. Sunday rolls around and while the swelling is almost gone, I still look like a tomato, albeit a scaly one. A VERY VERY scaly one…a cross between a snake and a tomato during molting season in high summer, in fact. Not great. I can was my face with apricot scrub, and can put on Lubriderm only. That’s it. I touch my face and I snow skin. It’s gross. It’s like I just burnt off the top ten layers of skin. Now I know what I will look like in ten years with too much sun. Scary!

Called the dermatologist this morning – soooo not happy. Waiting for a call back.

Here is what WebMD has to say about the side effects: “Dry skin, redness, burning, itching or skin peeling may occur. If any of these effects persist or worsen, notify your doctor or pharmacist promptly.” Really? Really? ????? Please note that it does not say that you will resemble a giant fruit, or a big fat red snake that has just eaten a small baby.

Have just spoken to them now, in fact. “Stop using it immediately” Honey? I got news for you… it is already in the trash. They are trying to decide if I should come in tomorrow or not, and how much damage has been done. Great. Just great. This is the one time in my life I wish that a burqua was an acceptable fashion accessory. I’d like to stick my hand in the sand and not come out until this heals up.

Otherwise; weekend…ugh. Went to a place called Monkey Joe’s for a birthday party for two young ‘uns on Sunday. Ever have those moments where you realize that you just don’t belong somewhere? So I’m standing there, surrounded by doting moms and a few dads, looking at adorable little children running around in their little sock’ed feet, bouncing on big inflatable air toys (slides, bouncy thingies….), and I realize, in looking at my peers, that I will NEVER EVER be like any of those women. First, I think having a big birthday party for a bunch of little kids is kind of silly. Is there a child under six who remembers a birthday party ever? I might have had one, but if I did, I don’t remember having one at all (ever, in fact). I guess I’m too practical….I’d rather be socking that money away into a college fund and having a quiet family birthday at home. Secondly, in looking at the other women…ugh. Blond, well coiffed, largely perfect, well dressed, new Coach or D&B or Prada bags, nice tidy manicures and pedicures. All slender, with nice hair, and bleached teeth, yammering on and on about private day care or private school or their volunteer groups or whatever. I can’t even make myself talk to them. I can’t even force myself to be that kind of person. I can’t. Something tells me that none of the women I met yesterday have the same dark, brooding side that I do. I could try, of course, as I’ve done before, but that ends up becoming a spiral of misery that is hard to escape from, and completely perpetual.

Anyway, that’s my ramble.

I can't believe in all the investigative discussions surrounding Madeline McCann the one detail people have found to focus on is this, and this is a quote, and I'm not telling you where it came from because I find it so....incredibly lacking in intelligence and moral fiber that to reveal the identity of the speaker would just give all of us normal folk a new target of lesser intelligence to mock.

"Conceiving a child though IVF is a sin. Madeline's disappearance is God's punishment."

What the fuck?

Get lost, idiot, and go grow a brain.

I am SOOOO TGIF!!!!!

Let's see....

Last night, as I'm eating my boiled potatos with cheese, I hear this slight thunk come from the kitchen. Honestly? I thought it was the dishwasher until I turn around and notice the absence of one small black dog. Make trip to kitchen...small black dog delicately curled up on floor, paws firmly holding tub of butter, that she is gently licking for all she's worth. New tub of Kerrygold!!! Bad Zoe, no Biscuit! Please notice that the Madster was sitting at my feet and ignoring the butter. Maddy got a biscuit.

This morning they've both discovered something great and nasty smelling in the back garden that they've proceeded to wallow in at great length, much to my nose's dismay. Dogs!

Downstairs is going tudor. I'm ditching the lime green in favor of dark brown and cream. Will look fabu.

Anyone but me find it ironic that Amy Winehouse is singing about Rehab?

Once in a while, when someone knows you are having a bad day, they send you something that makes you giggle:

Subject: Why women should not take their husbands shopping

This is why women should not take men shopping against their will....

After Mr. and Mrs. Fenton retired, Mrs. Fenton insisted her husband accompany her on her trips to Wal-Mart. Unfortunately, Mr. Fenton was like most men -- he found shopping boring and preferred to get in and get out.

Equally unfortunately, Mrs. Fenton was like most women -- she loved to browse.

One day Mrs. Fenton received the following letter from her local Wal-Mart.

"Dear Mrs. Fenton,

Over the past six months, your husband has been causing quite a commotion in our store. We cannot tolerate this behavior and may be forced to ban both of you from the store. Our complaints against Mr. Fenton are listed below a nd are documented by our video surveillance cameras.

1. June 15: Took 24 boxes of condoms and randomly put them in people's carts when they weren't looking.

2. July 2: Set all the alarm clocks in Housewares to go off at 5 minute intervals.

3. July 7: Made a trail of tomato juice on the floor leading to the women's restroom.

4. July 19: Walked up to an employee and told her in an official voice, "Code 3 in Housewares - get on it right away."

5. August 4: Went to the Service Desk and tried to put a bag of M&M's on layaway.

6. September 14: Moved a "CAUTION - WET FLOOR" sign to a carpeted area.

7. September 15: Set up a tent in the camping department and told other shoppers he'd invite them in if they would bring pillows and blankets from the bedding department.

8. September 23: When a clerk asked if they could help him he began crying and screamed, "Why can't you people just leave me alone?"

9. October 4: Looked right into the security camera and used it as a mirror while he picked his nose.

10. November 10: While handling guns in the hunting department, he asked the clerk where the antidepressants were.

11. December 3: Darted around the store suspiciously while loudly humming the "Mission Impossible" theme.

12. December 6: In the auto department, he practiced his "Madonna look" by using different sizes of funnels.

13. December 18: Hid in a clothing rack and when people browsed through, yelled "PICK ME! PICK ME!"

14. December 21: When an announcement came over the loud speaker, he assumed a fetal position and screamed "OH NO! IT'S THOSE VOICES AGAIN!"

And last, but not least,

15. December 23: Went into a fitting room, shut the door, waited awhile, then yelled very loudly, "Hey! There's no toilet paper in here!"

Regards,
Wal-Mart

I am completely emotionally tapped out, and I simply do not care about anything.

Jib Jab

You know, I love Jib Jab:

This one perfectly illustrates how I feel about WalMart.

Also worth a shout are: Star Spangled Banner, and 2006 in Review.

I would link, but somehow the filter here in the office just caught it.... :-(

Lest ye think that terrorists have cornered the market on evil:

Woman, 20, Was Imprisioned and Tortured courtesy of the NY Times

9/11

I won't write about this tomorrow, but I will write about it today.

September 11, 2001. Approximately 2,998 U.S. civilians (mostly civilians) dead or missing on American soil, due to an unprecedented and cowardly act of terrorism. It is a great pity that a nation that prides itself on being one of the strongest in the world had it's citzenry overcome with boxcutters and knives. As we have all said subsequently, and I think, uniformly: do it again, and this time you will be the one dying and we will be the ones who live. Cultural memory is an interesting thing: I have done nothing to anyone who belives in Islam. No one who believes in Islam has done anything to effect me personally. Therefore, I fail to understand the absolute rabid fundamentalist hatred they have toward us, and must boil the hatred to it's simplest argument - you end up hating what you covet the most.

I am normally a non violent person. However, when I watched people who made the concious decision to plunge to their deaths rather than burn to death, I became violent. How dare you conspire to murder perfectly innocent human beings based on their nationality? Had any of them stood in front of me, I would have willingly killed them myself.

However, death in itself does not change a culture, does not alter a people's religious belief's. If you kill the father, the son grows up with more hatred in his heart than the father had. What, then, is the solution? One cannot, in good conscience, eradicate a people.

I went to the site of the Towers in 2003. Without a doubt, the eeriest and most haunting experience ever, with it's fence covered in photos of the missing and the dead, and the remnants of wreaths and floral arrangements scattering amid the ash in the wind. I stood there, with my fingers through the chain link, and I was fucking angry.

September 11, 1971. The date of my parent's marriage, at the First United Methodist Church in East Point, GA. My parents have now been married thirty six years (btw, my parents NEVER have remembered their anniversary), and have the dubious distinction of having the date of their anniversary be the date of one of the most heinous crimes in contemporary history. I think, in fact, that the best thing any of us could do as Americans would be to schedule any important event on this date (as much as we could; bris's, bar mitzvah's, baptisms, christenings, births, weddings, engagement parties, divorces..well..maybe not divorces). Anything that was life affirming or celebratory in nature. We are still here. We still live on. We still have spirit. Our economy is not ruined (discounting the housing debacle). We are not oppressed. We are not destroyed. And...we are still angry. And we will never forget those who died.

Madeline

Well, I was gonna say it, but Bock said it best.

Can someone explain to me the correlation between uterine cramps and my joints that have a teeny bit of arthritis aching?

I thought not.

You know, since I'm feeling under the weather today, I thought we would talk a bit about health care.

Ah, screw it. We won't talk about it today - well, we will, just in short form.

You get sick. You have no job. If you have no job because you are disabled, a child, or elderly....that's one thing. If you have no job because you are....well, whatever....then tough shit.

So we have programs to help the disabled, children and the elderly already. They are called social security and medicare and medicaid (and most states have some other form of medical social support programs available, although the paperwork for these programs ala PeachCare seems to be extraordinarily painful).

Is there a reason we need to help people who have two functioning arms, two functioning legs and a brain that works (more or less)?

Ah, you say, but what about educational levels having an impact upon people's ability to earn a living? If you don't have a college degree, you can't get a good job. Bollix, I say! Not everyone is suited for a higher education. Not everyone needs to go and major in English. And it isn't that people who don't have college degrees are, en masse, lazy. I don't have a college degree. I work for a living, and have held professional jobs since eighteen continuously with only a three month break. And I am not lazy, by anyone's definition.

The thing is this: if we decide to require, at a Federal level, all companies with...more than five employees to provide insurance coverage to their employees (meaning that the company has to pay for it if the employee can't themselves)...that means the cost of doing business will increase. In response, there will be some factor of businesses that are driven out of business or who are forced to decrease in size as a result of the additional spend. No one likes that idea.

The second idea - to fund again at a Federal level some kind of magical insurance fund available to anyone that doesn't have insurance - uh, again, I thought that is why we already have the social programs we do? Do you really want to see yet another deduction come from your check to pay for someone else? Really?

It all comes down to one fundamental question: what are we? Are we a capitalist society? Are we a quasi socialist society? Are we some sort of new hybrid? Are we looking for a replacement for the role previously fulfilled by organized religion and community in the law?

Ethically and morally, I'm not comfortable with letting people suffer because they can't afford to purchase insurance and are thus denied anything but basic healthcare, but I don't want to pay for it personally. I'm pretty sure that makes me a typical American, doesn't it?

Labiaplasty

Toodling through the internet, as one does....when the word LABIAPLASTY leapt out at me and hit me across the nose.

According to this article in Newsweek, women are starting to treat labiaplasty as the new boob job. You know, you don't particularly like yourself "down there" or think that you have too much flesh there or maybe it's the wrong color at the bottom or I don't know what, just something (this is like anorexic people thinking they are fat...wtf?)! So you decide that you want to go and have a part of yourself that represents your femininity cut off? I mean, sure, I wax. The current trend of being completely denuded I find kinda weird...because it makes all women pretty much look like pre pubescent girls, and I think that is rather creepy. I am not, however, about to go under general anesthesia so someone can take a knife and cut off a part of my flesh.

This is my favorite quote:

"In many cases women say that they began to question the look of their vaginal area after a comment from a male partner who had been influenced by images in sexually explicit magazines or movies."

Ladies...if a man is comparing you to Jenna Jameson when the two of you are in bed together, it's time to find a new man!!! Not go under the knife!!!! I mean, people in porn are digitally cleaned up/enhanced! No one is that perfect; why run the risk of desensitizing yourself trying? I mean, seriously, if your partner said to you "I sure wish you could deep throat like she does" I think you'd get pretty pissed off, so why listen to what someone else says about your body? Damn, ladies, don't you know by now to only listen to the good stuff that other people say? We women do enough self body criticism, we certainly don't need to listen to anyone else!

And as the article goes on to mention, it is rather ironic that as Western cultures agitate for the outlawing of female circumcision or other forms of genital mulitation....aren't we doing the same thing ourselves? Isn't slicing off a functional piece of your body (a part that does actually provide lubrication during intercourse) mutilation when all is said and done?

Left Foot, Right Shoe

Spent some time walking down the beach, peering through the new (to my mind) high and wild dunes looking for the old beach house. The old driftwood tree, my childhood landmark, is gone. Found the new old trail, took off my shoes, waded out in the water, and let granddad's ashes fly off into the wind and water as he wished. Said a small prayer. Thought about all the times we walked that beach when I was a child. Walking back, saw a flock of sandpipers, which made me cry.