Archive for January, 2009

 I’m not sure if I am impressed or slightly disturbed — or both —  with K-child’s latest tome. She brought it home from preschool recently.

The Fire Ball — by K-child.

Sometimes people see hawks around the world. They are very interesting animals. They like to eat different foods like worms and birdfeed. And mice and rats.

The comets can come from space. Meteors come from many different worlds. Like Obama.

Like the One-Eyed Purple Eater. They can be three feet tall.

The tooth has many other ingredients than humans. Humans have two teeth. And very munchable teeth.

The meteor is about three feet tall. The big launcher is about two and a half feet tall.


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On This Day

On this day, we gather because we have chosen hope over fear, unity of purpose over conflict and discord.

On this day, we come to proclaim an end to the petty grievances and false promises, the recriminations and worn out dogmas, that for far too long have strangled our politics.

We remain a young nation, but in the words of Scripture, the time has come to set aside childish things. The time has come to reaffirm our enduring spirit; to choose our better history; to carry forward that precious gift, that noble idea, passed on from generation to generation: the God-given promise that all are equal, all are free, and all deserve a chance to pursue their full measure of happiness.

At a moment when the outcome of our revolution was most in doubt, the father of our nation ordered these words be read to the people:

“Let it be told to the future world…that in the depth of winter, when nothing but hope and virtue could survive…that the city and the country, alarmed at one common danger, came forth to meet [it].”

America. In the face of our common dangers, in this winter of our hardship, let us remember these timeless words. With hope and virtue, let us brave once more the icy currents, and endure what storms may come. Let it be said by our children’s children that when we were tested we refused to let this journey end, that we did not turn back nor did we falter; and with eyes fixed on the horizon and God’s grace upon us, we carried forth that great gift of freedom and delivered it safely to future generations.”

~President Barack Obama, January 20, 2008

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I wish I could remember exactly how we created iMan…alcohol-induced silliness? A get-rich-quick scheme in response to the Dow being in the crapper? Spending a week in close quarters with DH and his best friend such that the similarities and differences between them yet again lit up like a Christmas tree? Hmmm. I can’t remember. I guess that’s what a week of no sleep and too much wine will get you. What I do remember is that after both envying each other when we observed appropriate responses in the other’s spouse that are sadly lacking in our own and lamenting the fact that neither man has mastered niceties such as lifting the seat,  Black Wendy* and I decided that men should be like iPods — you should be able to swap them and mix up their characteristics like iPod playlists. The best playlists are full of music from different albums, different artists, different genres of music…right?

We have lovely husbands, we really do. As such, they are well beyond issues like holding a steady job, being an involved parent, etc. So we don’t mention those sort of basics here. We’d not be writing this otherwise, because we’d be spending all our time at the law firm of This-is-Mine,That’s-Yours. However, who is satisfied with the base model? We’ve mixed up the best qualities our husbands possess and added some features they both lack in order to bring you…iMan.

In no particular order, iMan…

  • Detects full dishwashers, trash bins, and laundry baskets and associates and executes the appropriate action;
  • Cooks at least 5 recipes that do not include boil-in-the-bag rice, steam-in-the-bag vegetables, or store-bought rotisserie poultry;
  • Dances. For real. None of this white-man’s overbite crap;
  • Sees shades of grey instead of only black and white;
  • Calls you out on your shit;
  • Says I’m Sorry, and means it;
  • Is handy around the house;
  • Gives a killer massage;
  • Reads something other than comic books;
  • Likes to travel;
  • Knows how to “do nothing”;
  • Likes to do stuff and go places.

What does your iMan do? Let me know and we’ll keep building the list.

*Chillax. It’s how my then-3 year old differentiated between my two friends named Wendy – one a brunette and one a blonde; hence, Black Wendy and Silver Wendy.

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Wise Women. And Men.

Every now and then I am Wise. I am almost always a wise-ass, but only occasionally am I Wise. You know, those rare insights where everything is crystal clear and in laser-beam focus.  For example, one of the Wisest things I ever said was 20 years ago — a guy I was casually seeing was frustrated with me for not developing a more serious relationship instead of the emotional roller coaster I seemed to favor with a guy with whom not even I understood the infatuation (I’ll also point out that it is a huge sign of personal growth that I can just call him “a guy” rather than “an asshole.”) I remember saying “I know you are angry with me but someday I will have to live with the fact that one of the best things that will ever happen to me is happening at the wrong time in my life.”  Another example… Mrs. Roosevelt was Wise when she said something along the lines of “no one can make you feel bad about yourself without your consent.”

I can handle being Wise only occasionally because I have Very Wise Friends. I absorb and revel in their Wiseness when my own is lacking. But as I approach 40 I forget their wise words — and my own. So I am writing them down. Because who couldn’t stand a few more sage insights in their world?


Mean People Suck.

From one of my best girlfriends, Kelly…

No matter how much I may want things to be different, people will tell you exactly who they are – and it is your own fault if you don’t listen.

From my Great-Aunt Franny – another Wise Woman and someone I wish I grew up with but as they say, it’s never too late…

If I know the person being eulogized, I usually hardly recognize him/her from the tortured biography created by someone who didn’t know them at all.

My friend Carol…

Being called “logical” is not an insult, it’s a compliment…even if the observer is too illogical to realize it.

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