What's New?

1) I'm sick.

As it is mid-November, this should come as no surprise to anyone - especially me. And yet, it still caught me a little off guard as I normally get hit with the crud right around the autumnal equinox. In fact, I was starting to feel a bit cocky given that Lex had the plague just a few weeks ago and I didn't catch so much as a sniffle from him.

Alas, germs. I have them. 

Not helpful to my condition was the fact that something happened to the gas line coming into our apartment building and so, for two days - the entire weekend - we had no heat, no hot water, no ability to use our stove. It was a mite chilly in here by Saturday mid-morning when temperatures plunged and the rain/sleet/snow began to fall. Overnight lows on both Saturday and Sunday nights were in the lower teens outside and only slightly warmer inside The Grotto. The situation was eventually rectified late last night...just in time for fever to strike and for me to wake up sweltering around 3 a.m, desperately kicking off covers, opening the window, and peeling off pants and socks in search of relief from the oppressive heat the radiator above my bed was pumping out. 

Yuck.

Anyway!

2) So...a couple of weeks ago, by some fluke, I was voted onto the board of Denhac. I had never been voted onto anything before so I was a little flabbergasted. I didn't even have an acceptance speech prepared. I mean, all those years of practicing my Oscar acceptance speech in front of my sister's full length mirror and I choked?! WTF?

Anyway!

It kinda feels like winning Homecoming Queen or voted most popular but way geekier and I'm not required to wear a fancy dress or pantyhose...uh...I don't think...which suits me just fine. But I wasn't honestly expecting to get voted on even though there were 7 slots and only 8 candidates. Clearly, I don't always hold myself in the highest esteem.

Regardless, I got voted onto the board and then subsequently got elected Secretary.

But not this kind of Secretary...

Uh...I don't think.

Mostly, I think I'm just supposed to take and publish minutes. No spankings [generally] allowed.

3) So...the US Presidential election happened. 

I have kept this blog and my Facebook/Twitter/G+ pretty clean about my personal leanings - I don't tend to use them for a political pulpit anyway - but suffice it to say I was happy with the outcome. 

Pre-election, I tried my best to stay as tuned out as possible. The anger, fear, self-righteousness from both sides left me feeling sick to my stomach and sick in my heart. I will confess I unfriended two people from Facebook as they virtually screamed utter nonsense at everyone in their friend list. 

In the wake of the election though, I've allowed myself to be appalled by the racist tweets published by teenagers, to laugh and understand the sadness of White People Mourning Romney (it's just as I felt in 2004), but mostly I've read some incredibly thoughtful articles written from both sides. Today, in particular, I read this article from the Washington Post - GOP's Red America forced to re-think what it knows about country. 

The reason why I point to this article is because, while I fundamentally disagree with everything this woman stands for, the article so gently captures her disappointment, her sadness, her confusion, and her fear, I felt as though I could somehow to relate to everything she was feeling...from the other side.

I'm under no illusion that the woman herself is as gentle as the author makes her out to be. But the piece was written in such a way that only the most heartless wouldn't find some compassion for her. In other words, Eli Saslow made this woman real in a way that White People Mourning Romney simply parodied. 

If I thought it would do any good, I would ask her to sit down with me over a pot of coffee and talk about Colorado. 

“And Colorado? Who the heck is living in Colorado? Do they want drugs, dependency, indulgence? Don’t they remember what this country is about?”

I would gently explain to her that I - me - I'm living in Colorado, Sister. And I do remember what this country is about. It's about freedom from religion (even yours). It's about freedom of choice. It's about free speech. It's about having equal opportunity under the law (even for women and minorities). It's about the freedom, as a single, aging, independent, feminist woman to openly challenge and defy your (and a shit ton of other people's) idea of the "natural order of the household"...

“Yes, Lord,” she said. “We are saying yes to honoring you, but no to the junk of this world, to the wickedness, the self-gratification, the path that we are just saddened by. We choose your path, Lord.”

It was a path that had worked for her, providing strength and stability during her parents’ rocky divorce, and then helping her transform from a stubbornly independent woman — the “feminist, I-am-woman, hear-me-roar type,” she said — into a mother and a wife who respected what she called the “natural order of the household.” 

I would try to explain to her that her party - the Republican Tea Party - is scaring people. It frankly reminds me of 1970's Iran and the rise of the Ayatollah Khomeini. And we all know how well that's working out for the Iranian people - especially women and those of other faiths. 

So no matter what her party runs and banks on for their economic plan, when it comes to civil, human rights, many, MANY of us are terrified. 

That's what happened to America. We, the complacent, got supremely scared.

Ask any one of us and we'll tell her/him/them.

Amirite?

So that's what's new. Mostly. I think.

Old Friends and Lost Loves

1) I unfriended someone on Facebook today.

This is a man I've been friends with since we were in high school. My mother and his parents are friends. We go way back. But you know? Politics make people crazy. They certainly make me crazy. Just ask my livejournal circa 2008 when I was so over-the-top angsty over the very idea of Sarah Palin, I was spewing crazy talk night after night and getting my much needed daily dose of sanity from Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert. Frankly, those two are quite possibly the only reason I'm not dead or in jail over that election.

And when I woke up this morning to find several vitriolic posts in a row from someone I've always been fond of spewing political hatred and making sure I, and everyone else on his friend list, knew removing "under God" from the pledge of allegiance was despicable and unacceptable, I decided, spur of the moment, I'm done.

Unfriend.

That's the first time I've ever unfriended someone over politics. I don't feel good about it. But I don't feel good about being called despicable for believing his god doesn't belong in my government (or my vagina for that matter) either.

2) Tomorrow is the 3rd anniversary of Andy's death. I'm not coping so well this year. Privately, I'm kind of a mess. I just had this realization about it though...

Over the last three years, this sad anniversary has been counter-balanced with other, extraordinary memories of travel with some of the people I love the best...

Sunset over Orcas Island, San Juan Islands, WA 2009

In 2009, just after he died, I spent 8 incredible days with the Drs. Conroy in Seattle and the San Juans.

Sunrise on South Miami Beach, FL 2010

In 2010, it was a trip to Miami and a cruise to the Bahamas with Blind Betsy.

Sunset somewhere in Iowa 2011

And last year, it was the American Gods and Roadside Attractions Tour with the BFF.

This year, I've got nothin'. No sunrises or sunsets over unfamiliar waters or unseen byways. I'd say I regret the decision not to make travel/vacation plans but, in all honesty, with the hullabaloo getting ready for DEFCON, it never occurred to me. So, instead, I'm going to try and sit quietly with the knowledge of this anniversary, allow the waves of guilt and grief to wash over me in waves...like the waves of the Atlantic did when I stood in the salt water of that sea 2 years ago, and just breathe into it. It's all I can do. What's past is past and all I can do to honor him is to live and love...here...now.

3) This morning, as I was just coming out of sleep, it occurred to me Beas's eldest daughter - Beas is one of my oldest friends (blog post about her coming soon) - is 15 now. 15. The age she and I were when we first met and became friends. At 15, Beas was dealing with the too early death of her mother. At 15, I was dealing with the repercussions of an unsuccessful suicide attempt. Beas and I, we found each other, clung to each other for years, out of adversity, and still love each other, even though we've grown apart, because of the common ground we found, and still maintain, back then. My mind is blown to know her daughter is the age we were when we first discovered each other, assigned lab partners in Mr. Eldridge's Biology class, realizing too late we'd just mooshed, with a straight pin, the brains out of the worm we were supposed to dissect. Her daughter is so much happier and healthier than either of us were at her age. This fills me with such gladness...and nostalgia.

4) Also, please note, according to Facebook, Beas has hives. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Not that I think it's funny that she has hives for real but because of the pun. Oh. Shuddup. That shit is funny.

Go Ahead. Make My Day. (hee hee)

Given that I grew up in Wild West Wyoming, you'd probably think it's a safe assumption to make that I was born with a gun in my hand.

Of course, you would be wrong.

I didn't hold a gun in my hand (a 9 millimeter) until I was 17. I didn't dry fire a gun (a .357 Magnum) until I was 21. I didn't learn how to load a clip and fire live rounds (from a Glock .45) until I was in my mid-30's and dating a former cop.

Each one of those experiences terrified me.

All I knew about guns, until Jason took me to the firing range and forced me to practice, was what I'd seen in the movies. Guns are used to kill people. I don't like killing people. I don't want to do it accidentally. I'm sorry enough when it comes to cutting up bell peppers with a chef's knife. However, he and I were talking about moving in together at the time and he would not consider leaving me in a house alone with a firearm I wasn't able or prepared to use.

Fair enough.

We broke up not too long afterward (but not because of the gun).

Up until then, my stance on guns and gun control was decidedly on the side of anti-gun. Guns = Bad. Bad People have guns. Bad People do bad things with guns. Get rid of all the guns. Make more laws. Problem solved.

Heh.

But Jason was the first to turn me around in my thinking. Even though my fear of guns increased significantly after he and I went to the firing range one time - the experience shook me to the core - my thoughts were starting to shift. And then, as my social circles widened dramatically, as I became exposed to and befriended a number of people from all walks of life, as I began having dialogues with more and more people - people with guns, people with concealed weapon permits...sane, rational, responsible people - I began to understand the holes and flaws in my long held belief regarding the evilness of firearms even if my all out terror of guns didn't diminish.

And then I moved in with Lex - former military, firm believer in his right to bear arms.

It didn't occur to me I was, at the ripe age of 36, living with my first handgun until he mentioned it in passing - I was probably doing dishes and not thoroughly listening - and I was all like, "Wait...what? Oh. Um. Don't tell me where it lives. I don't want to know."

It took several months of conversation, several months of trust building, several months of breathing deeply in through my nose and out through my mouth to avoid panicking before I was even ready to see it or know where he kept it.

He waited patiently for me. When I finally broke down and asked to see it, to know where it lived, he was ready for me. He walked me through the process of ensuring it was unloaded (he unloaded it, I didn't). He sat with it while we talked, my eyes trained on it, apparently waiting for it to take on a life of its own and start shooting at will. It didn't and I didn't die.

That wasn't the a-ha moment about gun control for me though. With Lex, everything is safe, controlled. He's got a handle on things...he's got a handle on me. Him having a gun made complete sense and I didn't mind.

The a-ha moment came during a conversation with a close friend who confided she had a handgun and a license to carry a concealed weapon. At the time, she was a college student and, at the time, the Colorado legislature had just banned guns from all college campuses as part of the backlash from the mass shooting at Virginia Tech a few years prior. She said, "In the event of a college campus shooting, the Colorado legislature has just signed our death warrants. Seung-Hui Cho didn't care about gun laws when he open fired on campus.  He cared about killing people. He wouldn't have cared whether guns were allowed on campus or not. Laws like these don't stop mad men. Thus, the rest of us law-abiding citizens who won't break the new law and carry on campus are effectively rendered defenseless. I have a gun. I am trained and am competent to use it. I am prepared to use it to defend myself and others from harm. And now I am told to disarm myself. Great."

Oh.

Ah.

Oh.

Oh shit. She's right.

*light bulb*

Since then, I've hungered for information about guns and gun laws. I met Kelli - a vocal advocate for open carry - someone who knows the ins and outs of gun laws as they vary from state to state. Kelli who is cautious to a fault (is there such a thing?) when it comes to gun safety. Kelli who exercises his right to open carry his firearm whenever the law allows. Kelli, who is willing and prepared to be harassed by the police every time he exercises his right for the sole purpose of proving that responsible gun ownership exists...that the second amendment to the US Constitution is his right as an American citizen exists.

Since then, I've invited #himself from upstairs to show me how one of his handguns works. I've loaded the (bullet-less...I am me, after all) clip, chambered a (non-existent) round, released the safety, and dry-fired in the direction of a rogue table lamp multiple times. I even demonstrated my prowess for Lex. Lex kinda just nodded, rolled his eyes, and offered praise *laughing*.

But...I'm ready for the firing range. I think.

Something about that conversation with my college student friend changed me. Changed my mind. All of a sudden, it was clear to me. Bad People will do Bad Things with guns - regardless of what the laws read. Am I willing to die because a Bad Person doesn't care if it's against the law to have a gun and I, well, do? Am I willing to continue to live in a house with a firearm and depend on someone else to defend me if a Bad Person decides to break in and try to hurt me? Hurt Lex? Hurt *gasp* Vinny?

Guns are a Big Deal in the United States. That isn't going to change. And even if the federal legislature is able to overturn the second amendment to the US Constitution and the Supreme Court upholds it, there are still guns guns guns galore. Except then they'd all be in the hands of the Bad People.

Lucy posted the other day about being scared shitless in her bed, thinking an intruder had entered her home while she laid there alone and helpless. She called her husband 1,800 miles away to "protect" her...her gut reaction.

I commented on her post with the following: This feminist would have totally done the same thing. Being a feminist doesn't mean being exempt from fear. As women, we know there are many monsters who go bump in our nights. Lucky for me, if Lex weren't home (and, let's face it, Lex is ALWAYS home), I'd be calling modchen (all 90 terrifying pounds of her) and #himself to come rescue me.

At the moment I clicked "publish comment" I knew I couldn't depend on Lex, on modchen (beware the tiny dynamo), #himself, or Acr0nym to help me. Not when every second counts. I knew then I needed to learn to be proficient and confident in gun management all on my own. You do know Bad People (and zombies) are everywhere, right?

Gun management is a skill...like baking, knitting, kung fu. If I'm unafraid to souffle, shouldn't it also be true that I should be unafraid to lock and load?

Guns don't kill people. People kill people.

While I do not oppose waiting periods or background checks, those seem to me to be sound laws, I need to know how to defend myself against those with guns. All those with guns. Most notably the Bad People.

Especially while it's my right...nay, my responsibility...to know.

Hee hee. Lookie, Jack! It's the Jane of Songs!

On the 18th Day, the Interwebs Rose Up and Congress Woke Up

I have never understood Twitter.

Wait, no, that's not precisely accurate. I've never understood the allure of Twitter.

I've had a Twitter account for a couple of years now but, if you look at my @janeymcjanerson stats, you'll see I haven't been a particularly prolific user of the medium. In fact, I'll go months without logging in at all. I'll forget who I'm following and why I'm following them and then, once I do log back in, have to figure out who all these people are again.

Why don't I use it?

For one, I'm obsessive.

I have this weird thing about going back and reading all the tweets people have made since last I logged in and, even if I'm logging in once a day - which is about all I can manage - that's a daunting task. It's much more daunting than reviewing the backlog of Facebook updates. It seems to me some people have a whole lot more time on their hands than I do to tweet. Either that or they are in the position to have a smartphone glued to their hands much of the day.

Of course, it is possible I'm doing it wrong. Maybe I'm not supposed to care what other people tweet unless they mention me specifically and require a response. If I could embrace that philosophy, the whole experience might be different for me. But then, why am I following anyone if I don't care what they have to say? That seems rather silly, in my opinion.

Mostly though, I don't like Twitter because this constant stream of chattering voices mimics what I live with in my anxious head a good portion of the time, adds to the cacophony, until I literally cannot hear myself think. It's like...Facebook on speed and speed stinks.

However, today something happened and I found myself interested, fascinated, turned on by this medium I'd largely ignored.

What was it?

The PIPA (Protect IP Act) / SOPA (Stop Online Piracy Act) blackout protest happened.

If you live under a rock and still, after today, don't know what those are, CNET has an excellent article giving you the FAQs on how these two pieces of legislation would impact you.

Now, I've been aware of the PIPA/SOPA controversy for some time and, because I have excellent friends, they all knew about it too so there wasn't a whole lot of spreading-the-word I could participate in because my range isn't particularly far-reaching.

When my friend, Foolish Boy, called my attention to the fact that Reddit had signed up to protest by going dark for a day, I was thrilled! Reddit has a much much larger reach than this little carved-out space on the internet I call home. When Boing Boing and the Wikipedia signed on to protest, I knew this was going to be huge. HUGE!

These are sites that get more views per day than the NY Times and all major television news outlet get combined (I'm making that up. I have no idea if that's true. But I like to imagine it's true so we'll assume it is, OK?). These are sites that are important to people. They aren't necessarily conducive to productivity but they sure are fun! And fun is what we like. Fun is what many people are looking for when they surf the net. Fun is what motivates us in our trivial pursuits.

Do you want to know what a lot of people find un-fun? Congress. Government. Politics. News...

Until it kicks them in the shins with steel-toed boots.

Today, the American people got a collective kick to the shins and many people, blissfully ignorant up until now, woke up and said, "OW! What did you do THAT for?!"

Want to know how I know that?

Twitter.

TC pointed me in the direction of a Twitter account user - @herpderpedia - who was systematically combing the Twitterverse and re-tweeting all the "WTF, Wiki?!", "WTF, Congress?!", "WTF, broken interwebz?!" tweets (s)he could find.

There are a lot of them.

And, even though I was a little discouraged many of these tweeters were asking to have it explained to them without seeking out the eleventy-billion articles already written to explain what was happening, even though I was a little disgusted when some were calling it SOAP and SOFA *sheesh*, I was mostly just whole-heartily glad they were asking for the information.

Knowledge is power.

It's just too bad there seems to be no way to take a favorite toy away from enough people to get them to see what rights they've been stripped of by the continuation of the USA Patriot Act (hee hee that link is to the wiki article and the wiki's still blacked out so you won't be able to read about the Patriot Act for now).

Anyway!

As the day has progressed, as more and more angry people signed petitions and took to Facebook and Twitter to express their concern, to urge their Congresspeople to say no to PIPA and to SOPA, more and more legislators retracted their support publicly...including both bills co-sponsors...leaving the cheese - the Cheese, in this case, being Lead SOPA sponsor, Texas Rep. Lamar Smith, to (hopefully ultimately) stand alone.

Stay informed. Know your rights. If you're angry and you know it clap your hands...right in the faces of your representatives. Worst case, kick them where it counts - by withdrawing your vote and support.

And then, if you're still mad, consider donating to the Electronic Frontier Foundation.

http://americancensorship.org

On the Chopping Block I

OK...

So remember how a few days' back I was on a rant about people being angry that corporate America is raping and pillaging the general public but these same angry people keep buying into corporate America and perpetuating the cycle?

And remember how I also said Lex and I were challenging ourselves to be aware and responsible consumers?

It really should not come as any surprise to you that the first corporation who will not ever get another voluntary dime from me is Wal-Mart. If you know me, you know that I have not, in fact, spent a penny willingly at Wal-Mart in about five years¹ after having watched Walmart: The High Cost of Low Price. (Seriously, check out the website for the film. They've got a TON of information on there that's fascinating.)

However, Wal-Mart's back in the news and I'm here today to try to convince YOU, Dear Readers, why Wal-Mart, in fact, sucks and does not deserve one more penny from you.

Yesterday, Wal-Mart announced they'd be cutting health benefits for their associates. Why are they doing this? Because sales are flat and have been flat for the last 7 quarters. Plus, prices are rising on goods. So they have to cut costs to continue seeing a profit and they're cutting those costs by, in effect, gouging their employees' already threadbare pockets.

Why is this such an outrage?

Because even though the CEO of Wal-Mart, Mike Duke, would like YOU, Dear Reader, to feel sorry for him because his overall compensation for 2010 was cut 2.6% (mine was cut 3%, fine sir), he still took home 18.7 MILLION DOLLARS! His hourly wage is more than many of Wal-Mart associates make in a year.

But it's not just that, Folks. Duke took a pay cut because his profit margins weren't what shareholders had hoped. Guess who the top shareholder of Wal-Mart (WMT) is?  Christy Walton, wife of the late John Walton and daughter-in-law of the late Sam Walton. She is also the richest woman in America.

Her net worth?

26 Billion Dollars.

Ahem.
I would just like to take a brief moment here to address the Waltons and Mr. Duke and the rest of the Wal-Mart shareholders. I swear...it'll be quick.

Ladies and Gentlemen of Wal-Mart,

The reason why your sales are flat and profit margins aren't what you'd hoped is because the people who actually shop at Wal-Mart don't have any money. The people who are likely to shop at Wal-Mart are people who can't afford to shop anywhere else...namely your very own employees. Taking money out of the pockets of your employees to make up for those losses in sales then will only serve to reduce your sales further. And, while you, and your like-minded corporate cronies, do own the federal government, I'm fairly certain slavery will not be an option for you stateside in my lifetime.

As an aside, have any of y'all watched that show on the television, Hoarders? Aren't those people just disgusting?

Respectfully,
Jane, in her infinite wisdom

OK. I feel better getting that off my chest.

Anyway! So while the shareholders of Wal-Mart are playing Squeeze-the-Water-Balloon (you know, that game where you take a water balloon and try to squeeze most of the water down to one end without popping it? Fun game.), I've got just one last thing to say to you, Dear Reader, about what is likely your #1 reason for continuing to shop at Wal-Mart even though you know they're evil and blah blah blah.

I suspect you are likely thinking, "But Jane! I don't have much money to spare and I've got to cut my own expenses down so why shouldn't I buy toilet paper at Wal-Mart rather than pay twice as much for it anywhere else?"

You guys! I totally get that. Believe me, I do. We like it when we can get a bargain for something and we've liked Wal-Mart for so long because THEY ARE CHEAP.

But, by buying in, we're skinning pennies off the backs of people even poorer than we are so that people much much much richer than we are get even richer. People who already have 26.5 billion dollars they can't ever spend in their own lifetime but who think they NEED even more and will scrape pennies off everyone in order to get it.

One final note: Schmutzie wrote a blog post - Poor People Cannot Afford Cheap Things - the other day and I challenge you to read it yourselves. It's really quite rich:


Poor people cannot afford cheap things, and no one can afford the hit they take when they accept lesser quality for short term gain, whether it be through our consumption, the quality of our work, or how we allow ourselves to be treated.


Do better, even when doing less might seem more feasible. You're worth it, both now and in the future.





1. Caveat: In January, 2010, while on a trip to Albuquerque - a town I had never been to before - my traveling companion became extremely ill running 103.4º fever. The Wal-Mart was the only store anywhere close by I could find. When faced with life or death, sometimes Wal-Mart does get to win.

Hops on Soapbox

It's early Sunday morning. Wrapped in the warmth of my bathrobe, sipping coffee, waiting for my morning dose of antibiotic to settle in and settle down. The sun hasn't come up yet. I was in bed last night at 8:30. While the most severe side effects of the medication have subsided, I'm still relatively exhausted from the waning battle being fought in my guts and so sleeping a full 10 hours was apparently what I needed. I feel pretty good.

As I waited for the coffee to brew, I found myself staring at my kitchen shelves - the hodge podge of food stuffs, bowls, gadgets, baking supplies. After a minute or two, I became aware of what I was thinking...I was subconsciously taking an inventory and discarding stuff that wasn't essential to our existence.

I've talked about stuff before.

No, I mean literal "stuff". You know, the stuff we all accumulate, pack away, impulse buy, collect, and cram our homes with when we don't really need it?

When I look back, of course in hindsight, to 2005, I realize it was a strange, surreal, difficult time for me. But, even though it was crazy and hard and, I'll admit, I dove head first off the cliff into the deep end, I don't regret it. Giving up nearly everything I own was truly one of the most freeing feelings of my life.

When I came back to relative sanity, and for the next two and half years, I wouldn't accumulate anything. Perhaps a new book or two and some new underpants made its way into my pile 'o stuff but seriously? When I moved from the luxuries of the Pinery to the cozy depths of The Grotto, I did the entire move in two trips in my Honda Accord and a half load in the Honda Civic of a friend. There wasn't any heavy lifting. I loaded and unloaded everything but that half load by myself. It took me about an hour (less driving time).

I have a few sticks of furniture now - but only the necessities...a bed, a small chest of drawers, a couple of bookcases, etc. If I had to move, with the help of 3 or 4 friends, we'd be loaded up in an hour or so (you know, with Lex's stuff included).

And yet...for some unknown reason, all of these articles and blog entries have come across my Reader path about paring down, whittling away, getting rid of stuff. Well...not entirely unknown. Part of the onslaught is because Acr0nym keeps sending me links to some of these articles as he contemplates his own sorting, discarding, organizing project.

I look around my house and I don't have all that much. Especially compared to what I had pre-2005. I've been relatively careful about such blatant consumerism. I rarely shop - not even for clothes - and, when I do, it's because I've identified something I can usually say with sincerity that I need. In the last 4 years, rather than spend my money on stuff, I've spent it on people - things for other people or the opportunities to spend time with other people (happy hours, brunches, coffee klatches).

I saw an article a few days back - a blog entry really - about all the new fees...banking and Hulu and Netflix...that have hit the average consumer recently. While I can understand why this is upsetting to an awful lot of people - most of my friends even - this doesn't impact me at all. I don't have Netflix or cable, I don't watch much on Hulu and only what's available for free (and if the free content went away I just wouldn't watch at all), I don't bank at one of the mega-banks having chosen years ago instead to keep my accounts at a credit union and at a fiscally strong, conservative, local bank.

I don't subscribe to newspapers or magazines. I read books and rent movies checked out from the library. I get my news from NPR (a service for which I pay what I can afford) and a handful of websites.

All in all, I live fee free. I mean, depending on what you consider a fee. I pay car insurance, pay my fair share of taxes, pay for a cell phone and internet access. I'm still paying exorbitant interest on pre-2005 debt that I'm slowly but surely whittling away (I've paid off almost 20% of my outstanding debt in the last 8 months and on track to have 31% paid off by the end of the year).

But Lex and I? We choose to live below our means and I don't see that changing even after I'm out of debt. I divorced myself from most casualties of consumerism long before the economic crisis and long before the Occupy movement began.

That's not to say I'm not a part of the Occupy movement in my own way. I am the 99% and I'm just as appalled at what's happened to our country and the world. But I have to say those of us who are the 99% continue to allow corporate America to gouge us - even as we stand up, holding our signs, showing our solidarity - by still BUYING IN.

A friend of mine posted this on a social media site last night...

While taking to the streets in protest is good for publicly displaying your piety and filling you with a warm sanctimonious glow, it doesn't really hit the banks and corporations where it hurts, namely- their pocket books. Nor does it help the people close to you, your friends and family, who are struggling. Here are some tips:

1.) Buy your next pair of jeans at a thrift store. This will save about $30.00 over paying new. That's a weeks worth of rice, beans, eggs and bread for someone close to you who's struggling.
‎2.) Cut up your credit card! Banks don't profit from money not spent.
3.) Skip dinner out with the wife and kids- that's $50.00 saved. Feed a poor friend.
4.) Buy your next vehicle used. Buy it with cash you saved. This benefits you, the person you bought it from, and the bank gets nothing.
5.) Got an extra room in the house? Rent it out at a reasonable price to a friend.
6.) Don't just save- you gotta give! Help the people close to you. Give some shit you don't use to friends who will!
7.) Here's a simple one: Revive the old fashioned, venerable tradition of "visiting". You know, at the kitchen table. It's free.

And some suggestions from a commenter I particularly liked:

You forgot- When you decorate your home buy art directly from the artist- buy books used, then pass them on- learn to mend your clothes to make them last longer, and if they belong to your kids- pass them on when your kids outgrow them- throw potlucks- if you have debt, work like heck to pay it off, somebody will pay for it if you don't- walk- use your library- volunteer- be proactive about helping people, and work hard at finding ways to make it easy for them to accept it (I made to much, I bought to much, my kid needs the community hours for her homeschooling, save me the trip to the thrift store)- write letters

Anyway! Back to my point...

Those rising fees, the ones people are mad about? Are fees that corporate America can get away with charging because, while people are mad, they grumble and CONTINUE TO PAY THEM.

If we want change, we have to be willing to change. We have to be willing to give up our dependence on an America that will continue to drain us of every bloody red cent until we say NO!

And...while I am part of the 99%, I'm not crying for the greedy top to give me more so that I can have bigger, better, faster, more too. I'm asking the greedy top to be far less greedy so that everyone can have what they need to live well - a life-sustaining wage, a warm home, nourishing food, healthcare, a good education, and time to spend with people they love and/or doing things they love.

Oh but then that would be a redistribution of wealth and such a Utopian idea is bad for 'merica.

*shrug* So is accessible healthcare apparently.

Lex and I are challenging ourselves to conduct an inventory of our current lifestyle, identify where we fall in the corporate culture, and make changes to how we conduct ourselves and where we spend our dollars so as to discontinue supporting a structure we no longer care to uphold as much as possible.

Right now, that means buying local from independent businesses and bartering with friends for goods and services. We'll see how that goes.

[hops off soapbox] Time to go find some biscuits from a local source.

Phase 1

"We are Anonymous.
We are legion.
We do not forgive.
We do not forget.

Expect us."

I am not anonymous. Nor am I part of Anonymous. Hell. Hacking? HA! Have you met me? The most any of you driving the Black Vans would ever find on me is possible links to (legal) porn. I don't even download music illegally. I don't even smoke pot. I'm just that kinda girl.

However...

That signature, if you will, thrills me in a way very little can.

The government and the government-controlled media vilifies Anonymous. They use transparent (if you're awake) scare tactics to instill the fear of gawd and gubmint into the average, sleeping Joe. At least...that's the message in the first 4 minutes or so...



I can't really say much more about this piece. The video speaks for itself. And what the video doesn't say? The Divatologist says in her own post which is how I found the video to begin with.

I hope.

We are legion.

"We are not scared any more. Your threats to arrest us are meaningless to us as you cannot arrest an idea. Any attempt to do so will make your citizens more angry until they will roar in one gigantic choir. It is our mission to help these people and there is nothing - absolutely nothing - you can possibly to do make us stop."

Needles on Wheels

One of my favorite features on NPR is Frank Deford's commentary every Wednesday during Morning Edition.

Yes, it's about sports. No, I don't give one rat's tail about sports.

But it's really less about sports and more about his love of the game...any game...and Mr. Deford's delivery that I particularly adore.

This morning, he offered up commentary on the government's role in cracking down on doping among athletes. And I'll be the first to confess, I've never understood why the government ever gets involved in these kinds of cases. Why the congressional hearings? Why the federal charges? It was something I never understood. What a waste of time. What a waste of money. Isn't there something better - less trivial - for our government to do?

And then? Mr. Deford comes along and says this (emphasis mine):

The goal of sports is victory, but the essence is fairness. What's the first question a kid asks entering a game? "What are the rules?"

If we Americans don't accept playing by the rules in sport, where else do we lay down that marker? That's what's serious about sport, and why, yes, although we are weary of all the doping distractions, why it is worth the while of governments to go after athletes — especially the celebrities — who might have cheated their games and cheated what a very visual institution in our society teaches us.

Yes, it's time and money. But yes, it's only fair.

Oh. Huh. I hadn't thought of it quite in that way.

All of a sudden, it doesn't seem so trivial.

Fair is fair! \0/

PS Hee hee. Billie Jean references in a post about sports. Who is awesome? Jane is awesome.

PPS If you've never heard Frank Deford on the radio, you should listen to the story and tell me he doesn't have a wonderful radio delivery. I won't believe you. I may convince you.

I Stand with Planned Parenthood

I hadn't been in a Planned Parenthood in years. Almost 20 to be exact.

Ever since I had access to services, first, through student health and, then, through all manner of employers who've always seen fit to offer good health care, I hadn't needed Planned Parenthood.

Back in the day though - my late teens - I needed Planned Parenthood and the services offered at affordable out-of-pocket prices for women without health insurance. Primarily, I obtained birth control from them. But they also took care of my annual exams and my STD screenings. Once, they even provided me with a pregnancy test (that's a negative *whew*).

It was because of their affordable care that I found out I had moderate cervical dysplasia - pretty scary to hear "precancerous condition" at age 18 - and subsequently found myself particularly interested in my lady bit health. 4 colposcopies, 2 cryosurgeries, and 2 electrocauterization procedures later, my cervical health for the last 17 years has been just fine and dandy, thank you. Wait. No. Thank YOU, Planned Parenthood.

But I hadn't given much thought to them and what they do in quite some time.

Oh sure. I'd occasionally send them a donation and, when they launched a campaign against Sarah Palin during the 2008 presidential election season, I laughed and sent them my $5 to have them mail a card to her in my name. But, other than that, they were kinda off my radar.

And then, the threat of a government shut down happened, in part, because of a Republican-sponsored rider attached to the budget legislation that would de-fund Planned Parenthood.

Wait...what?

And I got pissed. You know, because it's what I do when I find out the anti-choicers are trying to whittle away at the rights of women by slipping in through the back door when the front door's locked and barricaded. Grrr.

As it happens, I was due for my semi-annual screenings - you know, those tests every responsible, sexually active single lady should take (please tell me you're taking them and, if you're not, go get them done. Don't worry. I'll wait.) - and because of a random fluke with my primary care physician (or sudden lack thereof), I was faced with navigating through a sticky ball o' red tape just to get some routine blood/urine work done.

So I made a choice.

I called Planned Parenthood and made an appointment for yesterday afternoon knowing I would be paying out of pocket for something my health insurance would cover - no small decision when yours truly is still working on her own debt reduction - but also knowing I was doing my own small part to show my support for an organization that not only does a lot of good for women AND men generally but who did right by me way back when.

I was clearly - by far - the oldest person in the building.

The waiting room was packed at 4 p.m. on a Friday afternoon. I was one of the few with, for once, no anxiety about why I was there. I was also one of the few who'd made an appointment. Even though I had to wait almost 45 minutes past my appointment time, I didn't mind. I waited patiently. I observed. I wondered what some of these young women would have done without affordable access to birth control. What would they have done without affordable, confidential, safe access to STD testing.

What would I have done if Planned Parenthood - my only option - hadn't been an option?

So, while I waited, I made a donation. And I signed up to volunteer.

And then I got my blood drawn, gave them my pee, laughed with the staff about how with age comes experience, I paid my bill, and then I walked away feeling good about an afternoon and money well spent.

Photo taken from Feminists for Choice

Tolerance. Just Do It.

Dicky and I met when we were 12 the weekend his sister married my brother. Instant family. First, by marriage and then, later, after the divorce, by choice.

His name isn't really Dicky, by the way. I call him Dicky. He calls me Cassandra. The whys and wherefores are no longer relevant. I'm not quite sure myself why or wherefore anymore. It's just how it is...our pet names for each other.

Over the years, we've kept in touch even though we've not seen each other since we were 20. We read each others' blogs, we comment on each others' Facebook postings, we share a few secrets...some old, some relatively new. And while we are not close like I'm close to Acr0nym or the Divatologist or any number of friends, we are, you know, family and I don't mean that in an obligatory, eye rolling way.

Dicky, as he grew into adulthood, grew more and more conservative...some people might say fundamentally so. As a doctoral seminary student of orthodox Christianity, in fact, he's not only politically conservative but socially so. This means, as I'm sure you can guess, he and I disagree on nearly every social issue possible.

However. He loves me. I love him. And because we love each other, we have managed to maintain our relationship with one another, even though on more than one occasion had it been with any other person a heated, potentially explosive, harmful argument would have arisen, by always - and I mean ALWAYS - treating each other with respect. Dare I say, reverently so.

This morning, Dicky posted a link to an article about transgender people attempting to change their birth certificates to another sex...the sex with which they identify...with the following comment:

People who have removed or reconfigured their genitals think that they've changed their sex. They haven't. And now this? The confusion in this culture is astounding.

*sigh*

Oh, Dicky.

Of course I commented. You KNOW I commented. Despite loving him, you have to know this comment upset me and I was unwilling to let it slide. He and I then had a thoughtful, respectful exchange about our beliefs without attacking one another personally and, overall, I felt good about our exchange.

However, many of you would ask me why I would continue to keep him a part of my life when his beliefs differ so very much from my own. You might question how in the world I can continue to love him when his outlook is so very rigid and would seem to have me doomed to his god's hell.

Because. I love him. He is a good person. A good man.

Kinda like I loved Andrew - a good person and a good man - despite our differences of opinion on everything. And if you think I didn't love Andrew, know that I nearly married him.

Dicky and I, we disagree on everything because of the religious line in the sand we've drawn. Yet, we can discuss quietly between the two of us our points of view, making our cases, and continuing to love each other even though we don't see eye to eye.

And you might think this is crazy but he's taught me tolerance. Tolerance of religiosity. Perhaps I am teaching him open-mindedness.

Through love.

That's why I keep him in my life. Because he teaches me and I teach him. And that's the only way we're going to win the fight against prejudice, People.

By tolerating everyone. Respecting everyone. Teaching everyone. And I do mean everyone.

Which fills me with profound sadness. Because it doesn't feel possible.

Behold the Power

Last night, Lex, who is optimistic about nothing - especially not anything government related - sent me the link to this video:



This prompted an incredible discussion...a discussion in which Lex, of all people, expressed a growing sense of optimism over the renewed viability of peaceful protest to impact change due, in large part, to social media.

Witness in the last month:

What started as peaceful protests in Tunisia (once the military got involved to "quell the unrest", the protests turned deadly), leads to President Ben Ali fleeing with his family to Saudi Arabia, an Interpol arrest warrant attached to his back.

Thousands of Jordanians organize and execute their first peaceful protest, calling for the resignation of the prime minister. Jordan's King Abdullah subsequently appoints a brand new government.

Peaceful protests in Egypt swell to hundreds of thousands and eventually force the resignation of President Mubarek, ending a 30-year reign.

Before the protestors in Yemen can even convene, President Saleh announces he will not run for re-election or appoint his son as his successor. A "Day of Rage" protest convenes anyway and ends peaceably after just a few hours.

Now Libya. While not peaceful - due to Gadhafi's maniacal orders to kill - lead to defections by his own military. It's only a matter of time.

The entire middle east - Iran, Syria, Morocco, et al - are organizing protests against oppressive government.

And right here, in the United States, peaceful protest is, at the very least, calling into question oppressive government. The citizens of Wisconsin are not taking an oppressive power-mongering bill lying down. They're organizing, convening, expressing discontent.

The outcome is, as of now, unclear. However, Governor Walker continues to muck about in his own shit quite handily and subsequently broadcasting it across the internet. He is, for all intents and purposes, finished politically. At least, that's how it appears based on what I'm seeing on Facebook and Twitter.

What got me about the above video - the shot that made me burst into tears (cuz you know that's what I do) - was the shot of the signs that read, "Detroit is Here with You" and "Baltimore is Here with You".

No. The entire nation - the world - is here with you.

Regardless of your personal opinion about organized labor, behold. The power of the people. The power of social media.

Eclectic Electric...Power to the People.

Your Point Being?

In 1964, Congress passed the Civil Rights Act and, along with it, Title VII - the Equal Employment Opportunity Act.

Title VII states that no employee or applicant shall be discriminated against based on that person's "race, color, religion, sex, or national origin (Public Law 88-352, July 2, 1964, 78 Stat. 253, 42 U.S.C. Sec. 2000e et. seq.)".

If you've ever applied for a job in the United States, you are familiar with this act as it is typically printed prominently on job applications nationwide.

It now also includes protection against age, disabilities, genetic information, and military history discrimination. And, if you live in one of 12 states who've passed it into law, sexual orientation is also a protected status.

Now, let's go back even further, shall we?

In 1776, the founding fathers of the United States drafted a humble little document called the "Constitution" to which, 200 years later, the Civil Rights Act would be added. Have you read it? If you have, you'd know about Article 6, Paragraph 3 which states:

The Senators and Representatives before mentioned, and the Members of the several State Legislatures, and all executive and judicial Officers, both of the United States and of the several States, shall be bound by Oath or Affirmation, to support this Constitution; but no religious test shall ever be required as a qualification to any office or public trust under the United States.

Do you want to know why?

Because it just doesn't matter.

These things - race, religion, gender, et. al. do not matter when it comes down to one's ability to work and to govern.

So when people proclaim Barack Obama is a Muslim? I have to ask...your point being?

Is that supposed to make me question whether or not he has the ability to lead our country? Because it doesn't. The fact that he's black doesn't either. If he were a woman, that wouldn't either. If he were gay (OMG wouldn't that be awesome?!), that would matter not.

Because I believe what our founding fathers allegedly believed and what the Congress of 1964 purportedly believed...religion ain't got nothing to do with anyone's moral fiber or political platform.

Talk to me about the issues. That's what I care about.

Because honestly? I don't care what color you are, what god you do or do not worship, or whether or not you suck cock. I only care about what you can do for my country. I only care about your stance on those things I care about.

Rather than defending Barack Obama's Christianity then - a religion I couldn't give a little shit about - I'd rather ask why it should matter. Our founding fathers and Congress thought to protect both elected officials and the working class from discrimination against religion, why should it matter to me whether or not he worships a deity and, if so, what flavor?

It doesn't.

So, if you're like me in that way, the next time someone says a political candidate or official is a *gasp* Muslim or *gasp* black or *gasp* mutherfucking gay...say, "Your point being?"

Because there is no point.

If we don't make it an issue, it won't be one.

Variations on a Theme

Today, on Facebook, my adorable nephew, JR, posted the following:

"Soooo... I don't watch the news or read the paper.. but i see all these [Facebook] posts with israel and egypt.. whats the 411 with them??"

While I was tempted to introduce my face to my palm, I remembered he's 18. And, at 18, his priority is still figuring out the fine line between just enough and too much vodka. At least he was tuned in enough to ask the question and care about the answer.

However, a couple of the comments threw me for a loop and I actually did introduce my face to both palms...

" like war or something.. i think.. ha."

"This ones about I think the government is trying to enforce a curfew for everyone. That starts at like seven or something like that. At least that's what I heard"

Times. They've clearly changed.

I don't remember a time when I wasn't aware, to some extent, of foreign affairs. During the '70s, I suppose, it was hard to escape on a personal level.

Many of my classmates had parents and grandparents returning, defeated, from Viet Nam - all of them irrevocably altered. My best friend in elementary school, her step-father returned from the war addicted to drugs - marijuana and, I suspect, heroin - and with PTSD so severe, I watched helplessly as he, during an episode in which he thought he was in combat, put his youngest son's head through a wall. I hated him. I was afraid of him. Now I understand he was made sick by his own government. Now I pity him and I honor him as a veteran, if nothing else. But, even as young as I was, I knew where and what Viet Nam was and knew it was huge.

Not long after that night, 3 Vietnamese refugee children enrolled in my school, 2 in my class. Subsequently, I knew what Bidong Island was and how they'd come to find themselves in the Middle of Nowhere, Wyoming. I occasionally still wonder what happened to them and what they thought of the frozen, arid tundra in which they'd found themselves residing.

But that learning was from personal experience...the best way to learn.

However, when I was 7, the people of Iran overthrew their government and became an Islamic Republic appointing the Ayatollah Khomeini as supreme leader - answerable only to God. I remember this because this face:

Photo from Wikimedia

was plastered on every broadcast channel - all 4 of them (including PBS) - and in every newspaper. He terrified me. He still terrifies me. I suspect his image still terrifies many secular Iranians who lived under his regime.

While I may not have understood the fine points, I understood that this regime change and the new anti-American rhetoric flowing out of Iran were things to be afraid of.

I understood why it was such a big deal then when, in 1986, the Iran-Contra affair, whereby then President Reagan was accused of selling arms secretly to the Iranians during the Iran-Iraq war, became public. This was no secret blow-job-and-then-lying-about-it affair. This was full blown violation of embargos and treaty agreements. This was truly an impeachable offense. Is there anyone who would not recognize this man:

Photo from Wikimedia

and associate him as the fall guy in that scandal?

I was 14. I even knew what vodka was then. So perhaps the "vodka defense" is no excuse.

I contemplated this for quite some time this afternoon. Then, as if the general topic is in the psychic air, the Divatologist in her infinite wisdom, published an extraordinarily well-written piece about the fall of television - the fall of media really.

"Meanwhile, the average American has no knowledge of world events that actually matter. Headline News broadcasts opinions from its viewers, via phone call, e-mail, and Facebook post. CNN, one of the granddaddies of Ted Turner’s cable network empire, now asks viewers which news story they want to see next. (I wish that were a joke, or at the very least a story in The Onion, but it’s not.)"

And then, even more evidence of this topic appeared, again, on the Facebook by one Lux Obscura who, in regards to Egypt, stated this:
"omg egyptomg egyptomg egyptomg egyptomg egyptomg egyptomg egyptomg egyptomg egypt hey don't look over here at iran omg egyptomg egyptomg egyptomg egyptomg egyptomg egyptomg egypt"

with a link to this article about an "execution binge" in Iran (what have I told you about taking your eyes off Iran, Son?)

And then posted this comment:

"It's the stupid 24/7 OCD hypermedia news cycle. Iran is smart. They know that Egyupt is dominating everone's attention, so they're just gonna go off and sweep some stuff under the rug while no one is looking.

If it hadn't been for NPR, I would have forgotten once again to check the corners of the playing field to see who was running the sneak play.

Which reminds me, has anyone seen TSA lately? I can just feel them doing something retarded."

Are we desensitized? Are we overloaded by ranting talking heads? Or do we just really not care - oblivious in some kind of false sense of consumerist security bubble - unless the topic at hand has entertainment value?

I don't know.

But I don't like it. Not one little bit.

Still...at least he asked the question.

On Tragedy

January 28, 1986.

My just turned 14-year-old self laid bunched up on the only lounging surface in our living room - a small, uncomfortable love seat - wrapped in blankets, suffering from some malady or another...likely Ihate8thgrade-itis. The TV was on. Those were the days when daytime television was still a host of good game and talk shows and  All My Children, General Hospital, and Days of Our Lives were still compelling.

This day was different though. This day, every network channel was broadcasting the same thing: the launch of the space shuttle Challenger. Clearly, these were still the days when space travel and shuttle launches still held the country in thrall. The days when broadcast television still cared to show us the miraculous science that was about to hurtle seven people to a place where McDonald's did not exist. Hard to believe there still are such places, you know?

Photo Credit: Kennedy Space Center via Wikimedia

When the realization of what'd happened sunk in, I cried, alone, wondering if my classmates had any idea of what had just occurred. It took awhile though for understanding to dawn on me that there was no escaping that fiery ball of death. No parachutes, no comic book auto-eject mechanisms, no jaws of life.

An entire nation watched helplessly as seven people evaporated in flame.

"I remember how we all walked away in silence, there was really nothing to say." - Gary Shapiro KUSA 9 News

I would never be the same. I'd never forget the date.

Yesterday evening, as I sifted through my Facebook news feed, catching up with all the posts from the day, many people had been talking about that day 25 years ago...where they were, how old they were, what they remembered, how teachers, parents, authority figures reacted and attempted to protect them from the reality of life and death and national tragedy.

I was struck by this - how many of my generation would remember the day so clearly - until it dawned on me: the explosion of the Challenger was my generation's first real taste of tragedy on a national scale.

We weren't alive for JFK's assassination or Bobby Kennedy's assassination or Martin Luther King's assassination. Oh sure, we'd gotten a taste of tragedy when John Lennon was gunned down but he wasn't a countryman, it wasn't about the collective Us. We'd never experienced a moment when an entire country effectively stood still, watching, grieving with nowhere to turn.

It's a powerful moment - that first one.

Photo Credit: Charles H. Porter IV via Wikimedia

Almost a decade later, the bombing of the Oklahoma City Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building would happen and I wonder, was that the moment for the generation after mine? It didn't feel the same for me. I, of course, was terribly saddened over it and would visit the memorial a few years later and feel grief over it. But it didn't grip me quite like Challenger did. I don't remember the exact date without first recalling another point of reference from a tragic event in Denver four years later - the Columbine High School shootings. And the only reason it sticks out is because, at first, there was speculation that Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold might have been motivated by the Oklahoma City bombing in some way. Not so. They were just two really sick kids.






Then there was 9/11. Another day, just like the Challenger day...for everyone. Enough said.

This morning, I sit here and I'm thinking about the national tragedies we've endured over the last few decades - assassinations, a little domestic terrorism, horrifying space accidents (first, Challenger and then Columbia), 9/11. Benchmark moments for many of us - remembering times, dates, places.

So few really - few enough for most of us to have that kind of recall about them. Still...too many.

But it makes me wonder - if I lived in a turbulent country, in, say, the Gaza Strip - would I benchmark my life by the moments when national tragedy didn't occur?

If You Can't Say Anything Nice...

There are many, many benefits to living sans TV.

Oh wait, let me clarify, I actually have a TV, it just doesn't get any channels. And that, Blog Readers, is by choice.

I gave up television nearly 10 years ago. At the time, it was a fiscal choice between high speed internet or cable. I chose internet, I think, for obvious reasons. Mainly, I'm an information junkie and wouldn't know what to do without the freedom to wiki anything and everything at a moment's notice.

Still...it was, at first, difficult. Now though, I rarely think about it.

Except today.

Today I'm thinking about it because I am really awfully glad to be without it.

Why, you ask?

Because it occurred to me that everyone I know is practically jumping for joy and clapping their hands that mid-term elections are TODAY and that means TOMORROW there will be no more political ads. Political ads of which I've seen none.

Think about it.

If you don't watch television and listen only to public radio as I do, there is virtually no involuntary exposure to attack ads and negative campaigning. I've been receiving several spam messages in my spam e-mail folder and I've certainly received snail mailings and phone calls that go unanswered. However, those are all relatively passive tactics to sway my vote and are easily ignored/disposed of by me without a second thought.

I read up on the ballot measures and researched my candidates and judges. Not by idly sitting on the couch, fuming during commercial breaks, but by reading newspapers and putting my google skills to the test.

That's not to say being TV-less in a TV world keeps me from high anxiety during election season. If you were privy to my last blog (and no, you can't have the link if you don't already have it), you are fully aware of my political angst during the 2008 presidential election. And I've had angst during this mid-term election just based on the information my research uncovered. I've refrained from mentioning it here so as to try to avoid A) a political flame war in my happy place and B) because I didn't want to suffer 2008-like "I can't believe she/he/they said that in their outloud voice" syndrome...which included hives.

But! I cannot imagine how much worse my anxiety would be if I were subjected to a constant barrage of attack ads on a daily basis for an entire 12 months. I'd be like...an M&M without the candy coating. You know, meltdown all over your hands.

So there.

The election season is nearly over. I am a permanent absentee ballot receiver and so, even though I forgot to mail my ballot in by the deadline and still had to go to the polls to drop my ballot off, I didn't have to wait in line and I still totally got a sticker.

Now, I'm at home, without the political pundits blaring in the background, enjoying a glass of wine and not thinking about what tomorrow is going to bring.

That is, I'm not thinking about tomorrow and politics. I am thinking about the possibility of a tomorrow in the near future starring a bittersweet ganache making lesson. But, you know, those are pleasant thoughts. Not angsty thoughts.

And has nothing to do with TV.

Follow Up to the Chase

In response to my post about the Jehovah's Witness that chased me down the street, an anonymous commenter posted - and then subsequently deleted - the following comment:

If your story is true, I suspect you also have confused Jehovah's Witnesses for an evangelical group. Since the Bible teaches that we ARE a soul (Genesis 2:7; Adam "came to BE a living soul." There is a difference between BEING a dog and HAVING a dog). Since we ARE souls, Jehovah's Witnesses do not distinguish between you and your soul. They would simply pray for YOU. If only people would stop running from the truth of God's Word, they could learn so much.

Since I get e-mailed all comments to my blog, I saw the comment before it was deleted.

I'm disappointed that whomever posted it A) posted anonymously and B) deleted it.

As it was a respectful comment and raised a valid point from the Christian perspective, I certainly wouldn't have flamed it, deleted it, or probably even commented on it.

However, since they did delete it before anyone but me could see it, I thought I would post it, comment on it, and let you all jump in as you will.

Truly the only thing I would like to say to this comment is regardless of whether the girl was Jehovah's Witness, Mormon, or another evangelical cult-type group, the same Christian tenets apply to the message she was attempting to force me to receive.

The commenter implies that if I would stop running from the truth of God's word, I would learn so much.

I say there is no such truth. There is no God. That is not running. That is simply adhering to my beliefs.

I have studied the Christian faith both in theory and in practice for much of my life. My beliefs do not stem from ignorance. Nor do my beliefs impact the beliefs of any other. To each his own.

To each his own.

This means that when I'm walking down the street and have made my disinterest regarding Christ known, it is not appropriate to hound me, chase me, harass me down the street in an attempt to get me to change my mind.

This does nothing but force me to re-affirm my other belief...that many religious folks are intolerant, preachy, assholes who are unwilling to accept that their way just may not be the right way.

EDITED TO ADD:
My bad. Apparently the comment wasn't deleted. It just wasn't appearing in the blog comments for some reason. It's there now. I stand by what I said above.

We're #37

My momma just forwarded this to me (hi mom!) and I thought I would post it.

Healthcare isn't a big deal...unless you don't have it.