Taking a Break to Make Decisions

I’ve just gotten off the phone with a friend who was asking if I’d be using or be interested in selling a science text book we have. She wanted to know if we’d be using it for Sugar Bug when she gets old enough.  I told I was still thinking about sending Sweet Pea to the co-op class that’s starting in a couple of weeks, which would use the book.  Problem: no money to sign her up, or pay the class fees.  She’s a good friend, and would probably let me make installments over the semester, all I’d have to do is prob’ly ask.

There’s a history/Lit/Bible class also offered.  It would be worth 3 high school credits, which Sweet Pea needs to have.  She wants to go to MSU and go through their Veterinary Medicine program and, well.. be a vet.  She loves animals, but thinks she wants to take care of large ones– horses, hippos, elephants, giraffe.  I think she’d cry just as much as any family to have to put a sick or injured animal down.

Sonny Boy has been tolerant of his parents of late.  He’s convinced we’ve screwed up his life, which isn’t entirely true.  We (read: I, me) have made some mistrakes with parenting and schooling decisions, and they can’t be undone.  I need to sit with him, have a long talk and ask for his forgiveness.

I was trying to work hard at getting caught up on a lot of housework that’s been pushed aside for a very long time when I got that call. I decided to take a break, grab some lunch and write. Only I haven’t eaten yet.  I think I’m actually making progress– with the housework, but I’m not nearly done.  I’ve decided to save laundry folding for later tonight, after sunset, so I can do it and listen/watch some TV. I’ve got stacks of books that need to be sorted and re-organized into subjects.  That may be a good job for tomorrow, after my walk.

Tomorrow is my next long (group) training day.  We have 14 miles on the agenda, but I may do 16.  Last week was supposed to be 16, but I didn’t see that until after I was home, showered and ready to devour a side of beef.  I wasn’t going to go back out to finish those last 2 miles.  I’ve realized the marathon is just 7 weeks away now! I have fundraising to do still– almost $1500. Any takers!?!  No? well, how about $30 or $50? As much as I’d love for an anonymous stranger to just 15 Benjamin’s into my lap, I know that’s not realistic– well, as realistic as winning tonight’s Mega Millions $134 Million jackpot.

So, to recap, I’ve decided: A) Sweet Pea should take the co-op classes.  I’ll have to find the money from somewhere. B) I need to talk to my son, really talk to him and apologize for not being the parent he needed. C)  Fold laundry during Numb3rs tonight D) Go eat some lunch, then scrub the kitchen floor.  E) Resist the urge to spend $1 on the voluntary tax that is the Michigan lottery.

Must dash off now, hunger beckons, and the cookies are screaming Eat me! so I better find something healthier than that.

Politics and Pipe Dreams

I have been reading “The Case against Barack Obama” and find it to be very compelling and revealing. I know hardcore devotees will think it as lopsided propaganda, but I do suggest you read it, even if you are one. If there were one on John McCain I’d read it too, just so you’d know.

Up until the book, I was somewhat neutral on the man and his campaign. I’m beginning to dislike Mr. Obama and his legislative track record the farther into the book I get. Many of the people who could complain the loudest are Democrats, and they won’t rat out one of their own. The Republican’s who are speaking out are being accused of running a smear campaign. The author is letting Mr. Obama’s record speak for itself. And for the record, the “record” isn’t just how he voted on legislative issues; it includes his campaigning tactics, his candidate endorsement record, among other things.

The farther into the campaign season we travel, the more I dislike both sides of the aisle. Michigan ends up being kind of “purple”— Red in the West and U.P and Blue on the more populated East side. There has been a growing trend of voting Blue on the West side as of late, but I still think we’re more Purple.

I wish there was a viable party that fits what I believe in. One that supports and values all life; holds corporations to good stewardship of the environment without radicalism; believes the gov’t is meant to lead and assist but not be primary source of income for individual citizens. I want equity in education spending, and pay based on performance of teachers. There are districts paying some of its tenured teachers $75,000+, and still the students are failing. Would it violate the rights of citizens to require teachers to send children to the schools in which they teach? How much would change then? Don’t police officers have to live where they serve? Judges too? It will never happen because the teachers’ unions are too powerful and politicians know where the money comes from.

There are days I wish PAC’s could be disbanded too. It seems the lavishly funded ones are the ones telling the Senator’s how to vote, because of the campaign contributions made and therefore expect the favor of a vote in return. That’s not “of the people, by the people, for the people”.

I also think the system of 2 Senators, and 435 members in the House in DC do not adequately represent the population as a whole. The Senators are overworked and hold too much power when partnered with their like-minded representatives in the House. I don’t like that Representatives serve two-year terms. It seems they are always stuck in campaigning mode and can’t devote enough time to the work at hand. Of course the requirement of 2 Senators and the two-year terms are written into the Constitution (Article 1, Section III and Section II, respectively). Just imagine what fun both Houses could have with 150 Senators and one Representative for every 250,000 citizens. With a population nearing 305 million, our Rep’s are representing just over 701,000 people—EACH! If the ratio were brought to 1:250,000 we’d need to elect 785 more to the U.S. House of Representatives. The Constitution provides that there may not exceed one per 30,000! I’ll do the math for you real quick: that comes to over 10,166 Representatives in Washington DC. Even if the ratio were moderate at 1:500,000 there would still be over 600 elected officials in Washington. If there were that many working for the people, do you think the Political Action Committees would carry as much clout? I don’t think so; they’d still exist, but with less strength.

Currently Michigan has 15 officers elected to the H of R in DC, ranking 8^th in population according to the 2000 U.S. Census. These places have only one, (estimated populations in parenthes.)

Alaska (670,000)
American Samoa (60,000)
District of Columbia (580,000)
Delaware (854,000)
Guam (174,000)
Montana (945,000)
North Dakota (635,000)
Puerto Rico (3,960,000) [Rhode Island has 2 Reps in DC, with a population of about 1.1 million]
South Dakota (782,000)
U.S. Virgin Islands (109,000)
Vermont (624,000)
Wyoming (515,000)

That’s 9,908,000 people, nearly the same as Michigan in 2000. All things being equal, Puerto Rico should have 6 Reps in DC, yet they have just the one.

If we reconfigured for the 1:250,000 ratio, Puerto Rico would have 15, Michigan would jump to 39 and California to 153. I suggest the district lines be redrawn to make them larger with multiple Reps per district, so the work load can be shared, with staffing and office needs reduced. *Thinking to self: Perhaps even limiting the total number of districts per state*

If people aren’t voting because they feel they aren’t being heard, would changing the number of Representatives in Washington DC make a difference. We won’t know unless someone successfully runs for office, implements the changes and makes it happen. Pie in the sky dreams, aren’t they.

All that said, because I started reading a book about one candidate…

Lobsters in my Swimming Pool

Have you ever had dreams that just stick with you, no matter how bizarre?

Last night I had lobsters in my swimming pool. Even in my dream I thought that was very odd, since it’s not a salt water pool, and yet, they seemed quite content to be there, and stranger still I wasn’t freaking out about having them there.

The house was mine, but not the one I live in, and the pool was mine, but not my real backyard. My “neighbors” asked if they could have pictures taken by our pool, but they never said what kind of pictures, I never asked and I was quite happy to let them. That’s when we found the lobsters—hundred of them—and the water had been drained about 2 feet.

My neighbors show up in wedding attire: daughter in a gown, tuxes, flowers; the whole kit-and-ka-boodle. They also changed from black to Latino somewhere between their yard and mine. They were annoyed at the lobsters, and helped to fish them out, which then threw off the entire wedding schedule and dinner party. We suggested they cook the lobsters and serve them instead of whatever else they had planned. Everyone was very happy; we had lobster for everyone!

There’s more to the dream, and it makes even less sense than lobsters in a fresh water pool. The “neighbors” revert to being black, and it becomes day time, sunny, blue skies—all the previous events happened in the misty dark of night. My yard no longer exists and we’re now at a posh resort. I’m beginning to wonder why I’m even part of this celebration since I hadn’t met my neighbors until they asked to use our pool for a backdrop, but I am feeling very comfortable and welcomed.

The party ends with guests driving away in very big, flashy cars of indistinct make or model. I begin to walk home, and find one lone lobster trying to crawl down the street, heading for the open water of the sea. It’s trapped under a ball cap and my dreamer’s perspective changes and I am now an observer, not a participant. I look up to the observer “me” and I know the look. “What do I do with a lobster? I hate lobster!”

I wake up.

I wonder what tonight’s is going to be…

One. Word.

I got tagged in this game, and now am going to play.

One Word
You.
Can.
Only.
Type.
One.
Word.

Not as easy as you might think!

1. Where is your cell phone? Purse

2. Your significant other? Arnold

3. Your hair? Disheveled

4. Your mother? Survivor

5. Your father? Married

6. Your favorite thing? Sleep

7. Your dream last night? Forgettable

8. Your favorite drink? Water

9. Your dream/goal? Unfound

10. The room you’re in? Family

11. Your ex? Somewhere

12. Your fear? Widowhood

13. Where do you want to be in 6 years? Content

14. Where were you last night? Festival

15. What you’re not? Debt-free

16. Muffins? Naaahh

17. One of your wish list items? Apple!

18. Where you grew up? Michigan

19. The last thing you did? Read

20. What are you wearing? Glasses

21. Your TV? Basement

22. Your pets? Three

23. Your computer? Full

24. Your life? Good

25. Your mood? Fair

26. Missing someone? No

27. Your car? Old

28. Something you’re not wearing? Socks

29. Favorite Store? Target.

30. Your summer? Fundraising

31. Like someone? Definitely

32. Your favorite color? Yellow

33. When is the last time you laughed? Ummm?

34. Do you cry a lot? Easily

35. Who will/would re-post this? Nobody

No Time for This

A friend of mine just TAGGED me with a “ONE WORD” game. This is just so not fair!

I’m sitting here eating a plate of leftover green beans and hashbrown casserole ( I didn’t want to cook) from a MOPS dinner earlier in the week, trying to check emails and see if anyone had donated to my Leukemia & Lymphoma Society fundraiser. I was going to quick look up the 4 mile run I created on Map My Run and go head out. But no, I had to get tagged! And being the kind who loves to play games I had to read it.

I’m not going to repost the game–yet. I am going to go for my run, and then try to get some fundraising done. After that, I’m going to find a way to fill the rest of my afternoon before getting ready for a date with my DH. We’re going to dinner with friends and then see Spamalot! THAT I will make time for.

I’ll get you for this Rain. I don’t know how; I don’t know when– but I’ll tag you with something and it’s going to mess with your plans too. [cue sinister laugh: bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha]

I just wrote…

…a “Who You’ll Meet Here” page and published it. It’s one of those that explains the Who’s Who of my blog, but now I don’t see it. I’m so confused…

HELP!

~~okay, never mind, it was just the page theme hiding it.  It’s all good now.

In the Middle of the Night

I should be in bed, but for some reason I just don’t feel like going.  I know sleep is what I need, the brain fog is getting pretty thick.  I’ve just finished working on a draft for another novella/essay for the blog and had a random idea to check my blog stats.  This is how my mind works in the middle of the night.  I’m still a novice blogger, and really have only one faithful reader– I think she even has me on an RSS feed! (Whatever that is–honest, I don’t know, and I don’t know how it works.)

Anyway, I keep trying to write without using proper capitalization, and think “Just skip over the misspellings, and let spell check fix it later”, but I can’t.  Just now I used a *j* and changed it to *J* and I backspace all the time to fix spelling errors.  I don’t really see myself as a Type A personality, except for the perfectionism while typing.  But I stay up late because the house is quiet, and the creativity flows without having to worry about the distractions of family and their needs.

So if you’re just a random tag surfer or you came here on purpose, come and sit a spell.  Let me know I’m not the only one who forsakes sleep to clear her mind of creative fodder.  Most of all– leave comments!  Let me know how you found me.  I must say, the random tag surfer who leaves comments are the most exciting kind to get.  I can’t put why into words just yet, and when I can you can bet the word count will hit 700+.

And before this wanders completely into blog oblivion, I’m going to say good night.

G-night!

How to spend a gorgeous Palm Sunday…

..in the med station.

Yes, that would be correct. I spent my Palm Sunday afternoon waiting… and waiting… and waiting.

I went to bed Saturday night with an incredibly itchy eye. I thought maybe there was a scratch on the cornea, or a dog hair or eyelash caught up under the lid. Turns out it was pink eye. If you’ve never had pink eye in your recent memory, feel blessed and grateful. It was the most miserable thing. I couldn’t go to church, or work. ( I am a cashier for a grocery store, and I can’t touch people’s food with contagious conjuctiva.) I am living in fear of being fired right now. I’ve had to call in a lot already in 2008, and they (management) are starting to crack down on repeat call-in offenders and sack ‘em.

So how does one spend ones time in the local Urgent Care Center –a.k.a. the med station? Well, first off it may be worth a call to your own doctor. This should be common sense given the environment of HMO’s and PPO’s and all their rules. But if your insurance has lax rules, or you have no coverage, try this then.—->

Next, call the med station you want to go to. Depending on where you live in town, there’s a good chance there’s more than one nearby. Why bother and do this? Couple of reasons, and I learned this the hard way last Sunday. A) You may just want to go to the ER, especially if you suspect broken bones B) You’re sitting on the fence about whether what is bugging you is worth the trip in, the co-pay, your time, etc. C) Find out how many patients are waiting, and how many doctors or PA’s are on staff that day. I’ll cover more on this later.

Okay, you’ve decided to go to the med station. You are in some level of discomfort, for some reason or other. A) Bring something to occupy your mind, hands and mouth. Sure they have some magazines, but they’ve been touched by a whole months’ worth of flu-bug sickies. I’m not really germ-phobic, but there’s got to be a limit, yes? Bring your word search, knitting, crochet, crosswords or something else you can stop doing right in the middle of doing. (Did ya get that? make sense?) Moving on… Your mouth: bring a bottle of water and a snack, unless of course you’re puking your guts out, then that’s not such a good idea. A bucket would be good for you then. Anyhoo…Chances are you won’t find complimentary Beaner’s coffee and muffins.

One should avoid bringing this to the med station unless ABSOLUTELY necessary and I’m not joking. You’re whole family and their cousins! There isn’t room enough in the waiting or exam room. People are sick and they don’t want to watch someone else’s kids go completely wild. Even happy children will drive a person bonkers after enough time. Think about it.. you are one of the flu-bug sickies, and there’s this 7 year old next to you pretending to be the next Michael Jordan, or, worse, Einstein. There is nothing for them to do here, except get on people’s nerves. The TV, if there is one, is probably on CNN or a private medical show closed circuit loop. If the yungun’s must come, pack a suitcase– not kidding here either– filled with books, snacks, drinks, toys, a blanket or pillow, hair brush and pony holders. Why the hair stuff? They can play beauty shop and do each other’s hair.

Now back to why you should call ahead about the patients-in-waiting and the MD’s on for the day. I called ahead, to see if the phone nurse thought I might actually have pink eye, and we concluded I should be seen. Phone Nurse asked which Center I wanted to go to, since I’m halfway between two. She said there were 9 patients waiting at “A” and 9 at “B”. I said “So, I should bring something to keep me busy while I wait?” What I didn’t ask was: how many doctors are in the Center today. It turns out “A” had only one; “B” had three. Guess where I ended up? Yup, that’s right, at “A”.

I decided to wait a bit at home, hedging on the thought that if I stayed home I’d not have to wait as long in some uncomfortable chair, with a bunch of flu-bug sickies trying to whisper loudly over the chattering, clanging, crying, whining, bored children sitting three chairs away. I was way off on that one. The med center was still packed when I got there. After I had finally been seen, and discharged and at the counter to pay my co-pay, I asked the nice young man sitting in his quiet cubicle just how long I’d actually been there. He checked. It was exactly 3 1/2 hours.

Driving away to a pharmacy that kept late Sunday hours I thought to myself, “I wonder if I should have just called my eye doctor to call in a script for pink eye instead”. I called Monday morning to find out; sure enough they could’ve done that. O, I did get 12 rows on the blanket I’ve been crocheting done.

Blogging?.. ice cream would be jealous

I got a random comment from someone about the last post about blog-tag; they didn’t want to be “it” and, well… read the comment if you must, but read the post before that.

That’s basically the reason I’m writing this. Blogging can become an all-consuming past-time, like video games, except the reality is actual and not virtual. That’s not to say some bloggers’ reality’s aren’t delusional, misinformed, biased, confused, one-sided–well, they’re all one-sided. Back on point: we write to get something off our chest, make announcements, pronouncements and even denouncements; but we all do it hoping that someone else will stop by and leave a comment. We humans are pack animals, and crave interaction within our social structure. Even the anti-social still need and crave that contact, even if it’s to rebuff and reject the contact, to growl out “Back off and leave me alone.” We want some random strangers to stop by and read our chatterings about mindless babble or significant social events. We want someone to acknowledge “Yes, indeed, you have an opinion, and I heard what you have to say” and leave a comment of praise, encouragement, like-mindedness and agreement or disagreement.

When I started this, I figured it would be an outlet for the quasi-author in me to release creativity onto the world, and if I didn’t get any responses– well, so what? Well, guess what? I love–no LOVE– getting a response from someone, ANYone. Why? it means that person stopped and read what I had to say. It doesn’t matter if they were wilf-ing, or purposely looking for a blog to read. That person saw mine in a tag listing, and decided to stop by. Well, how cool is that? I’d say I’m so cool, ice cream would be jealous. (My son would say: Mom your so not cool, ice cream would melt.)

So, to the 2 or 3 who stop by here regularly, Thanks!

But, hey! Psssst! Can you send them a link to my blog, I’d like more than 3 regular readers, cause that kinda makes my “ice cream coolness” seem pretty lame.

Blog-tag…but at least my computer wasn’t being a poopy-head

That is about the most unimaginative title ever! but it’s tag, so what can a body do? I was tagged to play a blog game. The rules were this:

1) Open a book– any book, so long as it has at least 123 pages– to page 123.

2) Go to the 5th sentence.

3) Write down the next three sentences here and tag five other bloggers to do the same.

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

Well, I grabbed the first book within reach with more than 123 pages (a copy of the NIV Bible) and this particular printing landed me somewhere in Joshua. God was instructing Joshua on how to mount some sort of ambush. It would work for this, but somehow lacks a level of amusement for a game of blog tag. So I’m grabbing a book I’ve been trying to get through– started it a couple of times: The Scarlet Letter. It surely has a higher level of humor than the Bible, don’t you think?

As the opening sentence is not complete, I’ll start counting after that… Now the rules are a bit vague (vaaayyyge, ok Lorraine?) does sentence 5 count, or start at the sixth? Blog tag is not as easy as one would think. Or, am I over-thinking it? Moving on, I shall count through number five, because I want to… so there! …(Holy cats! these sentences are paragraphs long, I think I may be to page 124 before I find the end of five.)

“It was immediately responded to by a light, airy, childish laugh, in which, with a thrill of the heart–but he knew not whether of exquisite pain, or pleasure as acute– he recognized the tones of little Pearl.

“Pearl! Little Pearl!” cried he, after a moment’s pause; then suppressing his voice–”Hester! Hester Prynne! Are you there?”

“Yes! it is Hester Prynne!” she replied, in a tone of surprise; and the minister heard her footsteps approaching from the side-walk, along which she had been passing.”

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

Now, as I have no one to tag. The game ends here; unless you dear reader pick up the baton and run. Better still, pick up the book and READ!