DARE I SPEAK UP . . .
I've been pretty honest on my little journal here in the past ... even though I know there are, like, five people reading this on a consistent basis, plus some unknowns who don't even care, I've essentially bared myself here for both yours and my benefit. There is some value to "hiding" behind the computer keyboard: sometimes I get so heated about issues and so angry and vehement that my throat closes up and I can't speak; sometimes my brain moves too fast and I have too many things I want to say and the words don't come out of my mouth coherently; and of course, sometimes, I am feeling timid and afraid of speaking face-to-face, even to my closest and dearest, so I'd rather vent or complain or whine or be me via computer, rather than via live personal feed. So I'm not afraid of being honest, whether it's by typing to you or speaking to you ... which is why I'm not afraid to say now (or babble about the fact) that I think I'm ready to start looking to meet someone I could freely spend the rest of my life with.
EEP!
There IS context to that statement, but it's a long ugly story that you don't need to hear, but probably will anyway if you see me at all on a regular basis. In a nutshell (incidentally, thanks to JaYcEe for the lovely demonstration of "I'm in a nutshell! This is me in a nutshell!"), my parents really want me to spend eternity with someone I find quite boring and unscintillating, so in order to get them off my back, I need to either (1) start dating around, or (2) meet someone else, like, RIGHT NOW, and start seeing him seriously. Sigh.
This hairy situation is compounded by the fully-conceded reality that, according to a Korean idiom, "my eyes are too high." That is, I have high standards (gasp -- as if that's a BAD thing): I want a Korean man, a Christian man, a man who is older than myself, an athletic (but not meat-heady) man, an interesting and learned man, a man who reads books but also watches bad television, a man who likes to go for hikes and play outside, a man who will patiently and lovingly teach me to do new things and to explore and handle my fears of falling and injuring myself without laughing too much, a man who will play nice with my friends and loved ones, a man who embraces the things and people that are important to me, a man who is respected by everyone he meets, an ethical man, a man who loves children, a man who will treat my family like his own, a man who pays attention to me but also likes to hang with his boys (or boyz, as the case may be), a man who isn't lazy and never will be, a man who isn't complacent with what he already knows but constantly strives to learn more, a curious man, a man with a crazy and weird sense of humor, a steady and consistent man, a man who isn't afraid to cry but doesn't weep like a baby either, a man who knows things I don't, a man who reads the newspaper, a man with whom I'll have a great sex life, a man with whom I will share an eternal and never-flagging passion and love. Sigh. My high and apparently un-meetable standards are why, according to my mother and some other people, I am 28 years old and unmarried. (God forbid I get any "older" and stay single!)
Now, to digress for a moment ... some of my dearest lady friends are turning 30 this year. Several other of my dear lady friends are way past 30. Some of them are or have freaked out about this, some don't care. I, personally, don't care. In my view, today's 30 is like yesterday's 20, especially given our prolonged life spans. But more importantly, I was such a slug in my 20's -- apathetic, lazy, unskilled, ungrown, unpolished, unthinking, selfish, insecure, etc. -- that leaving them behind would be, for me, an absolute TRIUMPH. I will BLESS the day I turn 30 because that will signify for me the first day of a new decade in which I might actually be able to DO something WORTHWHILE with my life, given the skills I will have accumulated, the realities I will have learned, the financial stability I will have gained, and the true realization of the meanings of important things, like belief, faith, friendship and love. I hope that right now, I can be an encouragement to my friends who ARE turning 30 before me, and not use age 30 as a "oh my God, I haven't done anything with my life yet and I'm still not married!" ...
Back to the topic at hand ... I'm not bothered by the fact that I have high standards -- I don't want to spend my life with someone I don't love, or with whom I will fall out of love, or who I cannot and/or do not respect. I'm not bothered by the fact that I'm 28 and unmarried -- age means less to me than other things. And besides, people still ask me for photo identification when I go to see R-rated movies. The only two things that bother me right now about being single are:
(1) almost all of my friends are married, and that makes social situations ... interesting and sometimes a source of minor agita. Is it okay that I'm the only single woman here? Is it okay that I'm having a serious and private conversation with a friend's husband? Is it okay that because of me, the seating at the dinner table is an odd number? Do my friends pity me? Do they even think about me being a single woman, or is it all in my head? (Don't answer the last question. I think I know the answer); and
(2) my parents. Ick.
I confess that today, I possess a sort of double motive. On the one hand, of course I want to meet someone I can freely love, someone I can show off to the world and for whom I can loudly proclaim my affection and devotion, someone with whom I can concretely and securely and adventuresomely build a life. If I could meet him today and start on that crazy trip together, that would be just peachy. But on the other hand, I just want to get my parents off my back. They are soooo disappointed in me that I won't fall in love with the one they want me to fall in love with. (You should see them moping around the house. It's pathetic actually.) So frankly, I just need to throw them a bone, something to distract them. A little "see, I'm going out and playing the field, so if you'll just relax a bit, I'll bring someone nice home for you and you'll eventually have grandchildren" tidbit.
So ... half-facetiously (errrr ... refraining from a well-worn but inappropriate joke here) and half-seriously, I call upon my trusty friends out there (if you don't know who I am, don't bother) to FIND ME MR. PERFECT (or at least someone I can pass off to my parents as such). I trust you guys right now more than I trust my blinded and single-minded parents, who know me only as they WANT to know me. The rest of you know me as I am and as I can be, when I drink, when I'm sober, when I cry, when I laugh and snort loudly, when I sing off-key, when I road-rage, when I pray outloud, when I am mean to my neighbor, when I put up my wall, when I let my wall be chipped away, when I sneer at someone, when I pull out my elitist bullsh*t, when I am humble, when I am moved, when I am amused, when I am extremely and disgustingly lazy, when I am righteously indignant, when I snore in my sleep, when I drop babies on their heads, when I drop myself on my head, etc.
And if it works out, you'll get a special honorable mention in my wedding programs! (After I recruit you to help me fold them, of course.)
Thursday, March 18
Wednesday, March 17
MORE BIBLICAL FUN . . .
I hope that's not an oxymoron ...
You are Romans.
Which book of the Bible are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
I hope that's not an oxymoron ...
You are Romans.
Which book of the Bible are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
Tuesday, March 16
Monday, March 15
THE DASTARDLY NOODLE UPDATE . . .
The thought just occurred to me: if I am abstaining from pasta and noodle products for the length of Lent, does that mean I can't play with M&C's Noodles either?
I came home this evening and opened up the fridge to put away some of the groceries I had just purchased. Damned if the plastic Ziploc bag FULL OF PASTA left over from the Gs' shower doesn't FALL OUT and LAND ON MY FOOT.
STOP TAUNTING MEEEEEEE!!!!!!
***
SPEAKING OF . . .
... groceries.
Starting tomorrow, I am going to brown-bag as many lunches as I possibly can. At some point, I am going to be oozing sandwiches and mini-pretzels out of my pores, but hopefully by then, Lent will be over and I can bring my beloved Kraft macaroni n' cheese with onions and peas and cracked black pepper to work instead of turkey, prosciutto, Muenster, baby spinach and mustard on a toasted roll.
And then I will be rich! Riiiiight.
***
BUT THE WORST PART IS . . .
... as I asked my fellow Dwarves for prayer two Thursdays ago, so that I will be disciplined with my finances with an eye towards the future, Jaime posed the cruel and inhumane question:
"Does this mean no more spas and massages for you?"
Like a dagger through the heart, Jaime. Like a dagger through the heart.
The thought just occurred to me: if I am abstaining from pasta and noodle products for the length of Lent, does that mean I can't play with M&C's Noodles either?
I came home this evening and opened up the fridge to put away some of the groceries I had just purchased. Damned if the plastic Ziploc bag FULL OF PASTA left over from the Gs' shower doesn't FALL OUT and LAND ON MY FOOT.
STOP TAUNTING MEEEEEEE!!!!!!
***
SPEAKING OF . . .
... groceries.
Starting tomorrow, I am going to brown-bag as many lunches as I possibly can. At some point, I am going to be oozing sandwiches and mini-pretzels out of my pores, but hopefully by then, Lent will be over and I can bring my beloved Kraft macaroni n' cheese with onions and peas and cracked black pepper to work instead of turkey, prosciutto, Muenster, baby spinach and mustard on a toasted roll.
And then I will be rich! Riiiiight.
***
BUT THE WORST PART IS . . .
... as I asked my fellow Dwarves for prayer two Thursdays ago, so that I will be disciplined with my finances with an eye towards the future, Jaime posed the cruel and inhumane question:
"Does this mean no more spas and massages for you?"
Like a dagger through the heart, Jaime. Like a dagger through the heart.
Sunday, March 14
THE AGONY . . .
For what seems like eighteen Sundays in a row now, the people in charge of that week's fellowship meal have served PASTA or NOODLES. Enough already! I'm dying over here!
***
THE NEVER-ENDING JOKE . . .
I hope they don't mind being identified, but ... we have friends, The Jees, who are having a baby soon. And yes, their last name is pronounced just like it's spelled: "jee." Of course, this makes for a never-ending list of potential baby names. Our top choices, in no particular order:
Biolo Jee
Urolo Jee
Gynecolo Jee
ABCDEF Jee
Kenny Jee
What-Up Jee
Apollo Jee
Cash Money Jee
Eulo Jee
Melon E. Jee
And for you Ko-Reans out there, go phonetic with:
Song-Ah Jee (calf)
Do-Rah Jee (Korean root)
Kang-Ah Jee (puppy)
Suhl-Guh Jee (dishwashing)
Muhn Jee (dust)
Dweh Jee (pig)
Hyoo Jee (tissue)
Suh Tae Jee (Korean rap/singing group)
Sigh. We're so stupid.
For what seems like eighteen Sundays in a row now, the people in charge of that week's fellowship meal have served PASTA or NOODLES. Enough already! I'm dying over here!
***
THE NEVER-ENDING JOKE . . .
I hope they don't mind being identified, but ... we have friends, The Jees, who are having a baby soon. And yes, their last name is pronounced just like it's spelled: "jee." Of course, this makes for a never-ending list of potential baby names. Our top choices, in no particular order:
Biolo Jee
Urolo Jee
Gynecolo Jee
ABCDEF Jee
Kenny Jee
What-Up Jee
Apollo Jee
Cash Money Jee
Eulo Jee
Melon E. Jee
And for you Ko-Reans out there, go phonetic with:
Song-Ah Jee (calf)
Do-Rah Jee (Korean root)
Kang-Ah Jee (puppy)
Suhl-Guh Jee (dishwashing)
Muhn Jee (dust)
Dweh Jee (pig)
Hyoo Jee (tissue)
Suh Tae Jee (Korean rap/singing group)
Sigh. We're so stupid.
MY BED . . .
Calls out to me in a loud, clear, persistent voice, and I will give in soon, but first, a quick rundown of the day's successes:
... the G's baby shower preparations completed early! I was sitting in the direct path of sunlight beaming through my bedroom window, getting warm and relaxed and playing Word Mojo online when the first guests rolled in!
... plentiful food, excellent decorations, an abundance of helpful hands, games that perfectly suited our slightly-lazy-but-highly-intelligent-and witty selves, friends-who-are-like-family who don't mind making my home their home (so I don't have to babysit them! Yay!), and a clean-up crew to rival any crew out there (I think I owe Soybean a year's worth of lotion to make up for all the dishes she washed. Eep.)
... an SUV-load of gifts which included the all-important New Dad outfit (if someone out there has a digi-photo of it, please send it to me because it MUST be posted for the public to see), including sound-proof earphones and a most imaginative all-purpose apron.
... people who were actually willing to take leftovers! Praise the Lord! (Note to future guests: don't be shy; you KNOW you want it.)
... a fresh sound system at NHF that mostly works, but of course, the coolest thing is the industrial-strength, foam-padded, multi-compartmentalized microphone case. That thing is AWESOME. And our new monitors, now named Matthew, Caleigh and Derek. Don't ask.
... a newly implemented church prayer meeting that had a small but intimate first turnout, and which rejuvenated even my aching feet, sore back, stiff shoulders, droopy eyelids and hoarse voice. God is good. All the time.
... a perfectly perfect time of winding down at JWu's, gorging on vegetable tempura (random!) and exchanging random bits of information that none of us knew the other person knew that we knew that they knew. Well, you get the idea. Bottom line is, we all watch waaaaay too much television.
And now, she sleeps.
Calls out to me in a loud, clear, persistent voice, and I will give in soon, but first, a quick rundown of the day's successes:
... the G's baby shower preparations completed early! I was sitting in the direct path of sunlight beaming through my bedroom window, getting warm and relaxed and playing Word Mojo online when the first guests rolled in!
... plentiful food, excellent decorations, an abundance of helpful hands, games that perfectly suited our slightly-lazy-but-highly-intelligent-and witty selves, friends-who-are-like-family who don't mind making my home their home (so I don't have to babysit them! Yay!), and a clean-up crew to rival any crew out there (I think I owe Soybean a year's worth of lotion to make up for all the dishes she washed. Eep.)
... an SUV-load of gifts which included the all-important New Dad outfit (if someone out there has a digi-photo of it, please send it to me because it MUST be posted for the public to see), including sound-proof earphones and a most imaginative all-purpose apron.
... people who were actually willing to take leftovers! Praise the Lord! (Note to future guests: don't be shy; you KNOW you want it.)
... a fresh sound system at NHF that mostly works, but of course, the coolest thing is the industrial-strength, foam-padded, multi-compartmentalized microphone case. That thing is AWESOME. And our new monitors, now named Matthew, Caleigh and Derek. Don't ask.
... a newly implemented church prayer meeting that had a small but intimate first turnout, and which rejuvenated even my aching feet, sore back, stiff shoulders, droopy eyelids and hoarse voice. God is good. All the time.
... a perfectly perfect time of winding down at JWu's, gorging on vegetable tempura (random!) and exchanging random bits of information that none of us knew the other person knew that we knew that they knew. Well, you get the idea. Bottom line is, we all watch waaaaay too much television.
And now, she sleeps.
Friday, March 12
RIGHT ON TIME, BABY . . .
1. What was the last song you heard? The guitar accompaniment for "Hear Our Praises" as we tested out our crazy new sound system at NHF. It's just crazy.
2. What were the last two movies you saw? "Runaway Jury" (I LOVE JOHN CUSACK) and "Drumline" (one band, one sound! Ahhh, it gives me shivers.)
3. What were the last three things you purchased? Dinner at a Mexican restaurant; a tenor saxophone mouthpiece; a grilled vegetable wrap and fruit smoothie.
4. What four things do you need to do this weekend? Co-throw a baby shower at my place; work out; make a banana-bourbon cake; buckle down for an intense NHF-focused several hours.
5. Who are the last five people you talked to? D, Hooch, Gran, Soy, Jaime.
1. What was the last song you heard? The guitar accompaniment for "Hear Our Praises" as we tested out our crazy new sound system at NHF. It's just crazy.
2. What were the last two movies you saw? "Runaway Jury" (I LOVE JOHN CUSACK) and "Drumline" (one band, one sound! Ahhh, it gives me shivers.)
3. What were the last three things you purchased? Dinner at a Mexican restaurant; a tenor saxophone mouthpiece; a grilled vegetable wrap and fruit smoothie.
4. What four things do you need to do this weekend? Co-throw a baby shower at my place; work out; make a banana-bourbon cake; buckle down for an intense NHF-focused several hours.
5. Who are the last five people you talked to? D, Hooch, Gran, Soy, Jaime.
Thursday, March 11
WHINE WHINE WHINE . . .
I reached a milestone this morning: I discovered the first full-length white hair on my head.
It actually made me laugh out loud. It was SO prominent and SO thick; not at all what I imagined a dead, bleached, non-pigmented hair shaft to be. And it just stuck out, glistening brightly under the lights as I blow-dried the rest of my dark brown hairs. I grabbed onto it and ran to my mother: "Omma, Omma! Look! My first white hair!" I shouted in triumph. Omma looked at me like I was nuts.
As I returned to my morning routine, I got to thinking ... from where did this robust white hair come? And, as is the American way, I have concluded that it's everyone else's fault but mine, naturally.
-- Everyone involved with the home-buying process -- realtors, sellers, lawyers, bankers, inspectors: you all are stressing me out! Why can't it all just move smoothly like buttah, and why can't there exist a perfect home in which nothing has gone awry?
-- My parents: relaaaaax. My job is fine, my friends are fine and my family is fine, so don't worry about me getting married! I'll get married when I WANT and when I'm READY, and no amount of nosing around by you is going to move the event any closer.
-- Incompetent attorneys: go back to law school. Stop submitting incoherent, mispelled, grammatically incorrect and WHINY papers. Stop calling to ask stupid questions whose answers you might discover if you read our rules or the Federal Rules or the Local Rules ... or used common sense.
-- People who don't respond to invitations: we rely upon your RSVP to make an adequate amount of food, to prepare sufficient games, to ascertain that the location of an event is neither too big nor too small. You show an inordinate amount of disrespect when you fail to RSVP. And I KNOW that you received the invitation and I KNOW that you check it repeatedly because I am the one who sent the Evite and I can tell when you've looked at it!
-- Bad drivers: you give me agita every morning by zipping in front of me without using your signals, or tailgating me when I'm already going well above the posted speed limit. Plus, some of your exhaust stinks, so get your systems checked out. You're giving me cancer.
Hmmm. I think I'm done whining for the morning. I think I shall now go admire the white hair that you all gave me.
I reached a milestone this morning: I discovered the first full-length white hair on my head.
It actually made me laugh out loud. It was SO prominent and SO thick; not at all what I imagined a dead, bleached, non-pigmented hair shaft to be. And it just stuck out, glistening brightly under the lights as I blow-dried the rest of my dark brown hairs. I grabbed onto it and ran to my mother: "Omma, Omma! Look! My first white hair!" I shouted in triumph. Omma looked at me like I was nuts.
As I returned to my morning routine, I got to thinking ... from where did this robust white hair come? And, as is the American way, I have concluded that it's everyone else's fault but mine, naturally.
-- Everyone involved with the home-buying process -- realtors, sellers, lawyers, bankers, inspectors: you all are stressing me out! Why can't it all just move smoothly like buttah, and why can't there exist a perfect home in which nothing has gone awry?
-- My parents: relaaaaax. My job is fine, my friends are fine and my family is fine, so don't worry about me getting married! I'll get married when I WANT and when I'm READY, and no amount of nosing around by you is going to move the event any closer.
-- Incompetent attorneys: go back to law school. Stop submitting incoherent, mispelled, grammatically incorrect and WHINY papers. Stop calling to ask stupid questions whose answers you might discover if you read our rules or the Federal Rules or the Local Rules ... or used common sense.
-- People who don't respond to invitations: we rely upon your RSVP to make an adequate amount of food, to prepare sufficient games, to ascertain that the location of an event is neither too big nor too small. You show an inordinate amount of disrespect when you fail to RSVP. And I KNOW that you received the invitation and I KNOW that you check it repeatedly because I am the one who sent the Evite and I can tell when you've looked at it!
-- Bad drivers: you give me agita every morning by zipping in front of me without using your signals, or tailgating me when I'm already going well above the posted speed limit. Plus, some of your exhaust stinks, so get your systems checked out. You're giving me cancer.
Hmmm. I think I'm done whining for the morning. I think I shall now go admire the white hair that you all gave me.
Wednesday, March 10
WHILING AWAY THE MINUTES . . .
Hmmm ... I always thought I had Spanish or Puerto-Rican blood in me ...
***
One book I just could never get through ...
Hmmm ... I always thought I had Spanish or Puerto-Rican blood in me ...
You're France!
Most people think you're snobby, but it's really just that
you're better than everyone else. At least you're more loyal to the real
language, the fine arts, and the fine wines than anyone else. You aren't
worth beans in a fight, unless you're really short, but you're so good at other
things that it usually doesn't matter. Some of your finest works were
intended to be short-term projects.
Take the Country Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid
***
One book I just could never get through ...
You're Catch-22!
by Joseph Heller
Incredibly witty and funny, you have a taste for irony in all that you
see. It seems that life has put you in perpetually untenable situations, and your sense
of humor is all that gets you through them. These experiences have also made you an
ardent pacifist, though you present your message with tongue sewn into cheek. You
could coin a phrase that replaces the word "paradox" for millions of
people.
Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.
DOI . . .
I'm such a jerk.
Yesterday at lunchtime, I wasn't very hungry, so I ordered just whole wheat bread, toasted with butter, and a large chicken noodle soup from the local deli.
It wasn't until I opened up the soup cup and ladled out the first spoonful did I realize: I CAN'T EAT PASTA UNTIL EASTER. I peered at the contents of my spoon: a sizable chunk of chicken, a slice of celery, a small hunk of carrot and three big plump chewy homemade noodles. I spent the rest of my lunch maneuvering my spoon around the ubiquitous noodles. Hooch spent her lunch gazing sympathetically at me sipping the broth and vainly searching for the bits of chicken and vegetables.
SIGH SIGH and SIGH.
I'm such a jerk.
I'm such a jerk.
Yesterday at lunchtime, I wasn't very hungry, so I ordered just whole wheat bread, toasted with butter, and a large chicken noodle soup from the local deli.
It wasn't until I opened up the soup cup and ladled out the first spoonful did I realize: I CAN'T EAT PASTA UNTIL EASTER. I peered at the contents of my spoon: a sizable chunk of chicken, a slice of celery, a small hunk of carrot and three big plump chewy homemade noodles. I spent the rest of my lunch maneuvering my spoon around the ubiquitous noodles. Hooch spent her lunch gazing sympathetically at me sipping the broth and vainly searching for the bits of chicken and vegetables.
SIGH SIGH and SIGH.
I'm such a jerk.
DILEMMA . . .
Now that Martha, Martha, Martha is a convicted felon ... does that mean I have to unsubscribe from her magazine? Assuming that her company doesn't implode and her magazine doesn't fold ... will I be supporting a convicted felon and being a bad person myself if I continue to pay for and receive "Martha Stewart Living"?
(Please say no, because as utterly evil and annoying as Martha, Martha, Martha is, her magazine is SO FUN.)
Now that Martha, Martha, Martha is a convicted felon ... does that mean I have to unsubscribe from her magazine? Assuming that her company doesn't implode and her magazine doesn't fold ... will I be supporting a convicted felon and being a bad person myself if I continue to pay for and receive "Martha Stewart Living"?
(Please say no, because as utterly evil and annoying as Martha, Martha, Martha is, her magazine is SO FUN.)
Tuesday, March 9
WHERE I HAVE PAINTED THE TOWN RED . . .
create your own visited country map
or write about it on the open travel guide
NOTE: I have driven THROUGH Delaware, Idaho, Nebraska and Michigan, but Hooch says that that does not qualify as "visiting." Visiting requires at least an overnight stay and/or some roaming of the streets for a purpose other than or in addition to looking for a hotel or a place to eat.
create your own personalized map of the USA
or write about it on the open travel guide
create your own visited country map
or write about it on the open travel guide
NOTE: I have driven THROUGH Delaware, Idaho, Nebraska and Michigan, but Hooch says that that does not qualify as "visiting." Visiting requires at least an overnight stay and/or some roaming of the streets for a purpose other than or in addition to looking for a hotel or a place to eat.
create your own personalized map of the USA
or write about it on the open travel guide
OPINION . . .
You're entitled to disagree with me, and I hope you do so we can talk about it, and I promise I won't gloat if Shrub is booted in November. But whether you agree or disagree, or can't decide -- which is fine, too, as long as you're thinking about it -- read on ...
***
"WARNING: BUSH IS HAZARDOUS TO WOMEN'S HEALTH
By Beth Quinn
Times Herald-Record
bquinn@th-record.com
OK, girls, start your engines. After taking a three-year beating from Bush, the counterattack begins.
It starts April 25 in Washington, D.C., as hundreds of thousands of women (and the men who love them) converge on the capital to participate in the March for Women's Lives.
This march is many things. It's a pro-choice rally at a time when reproductive rights are under attack. It's a peace march at a time when our children are dying in a war being fought for the Big WMD Lie. It's a grass-roots effort to take a stand against everything this administration is for.
What it's not, though, is an end in itself. April 25 marks the beginning of a fight that will culminate in November when we vote Bush out of the White House.
Bush declared this war on Jan. 22, 2001, when his very first public act was to impose a gag rule on international family planning agencies. Two months later, on March 29, 2001, he thumbed his nose at the women of America by closing the White House Office for Women's Initiatives and Outreach. Since then, he has systematically attacked women's rights. He has stripped contraceptive coverage from federal employees; appointed anti-choice zealots to the federal courts; signed into law the first ban on an abortion procedure since 1973. And he, along with his fellow right-wing ideologues in Congress, keeps chipping away. Just two weeks ago, the House passed the Unborn Victims of Violence Act, which would treat attacks on a pregnant woman as separate crimes against both the mother and fetus. That has an emotional appeal, but it would give a fetus legal status and put women in the back seat. It should be more accurately named the Adult Female Victims of the Bush Administration Act.
To see the long list of his attacks on women, go to www.ppfa.org and click search for "War on Women." It should be required reading for anyone who menstruates.
But you know what? Bush is scared of us. He knows how powerful we can be. After all, women outnumber men and a greater proportion of us turn out to vote.
That's why he trotted out his wife, Laura, last week to kick off a campaign to fight heart disease in women. The White House e-mailed 2 million women to let them know that the first lady was launching a "campaign to fight women and heart disease."
It was an unintended miswording on their part, I'm sure. No doubt they meant to say "a campaign to fight heart disease in women," but the slip contained more than an element of truth.
Healthy hearts are good, no question about that. But it's our uteruses that are in graver danger right now.
The April 25 march also signifies a passing of the torch to a younger generation of women who now have to take up the fight for reproductive freedom. Those who've been fighting to hold on for the past 30 years are getting tired. They need to pass on the leadership.
And it's happening. Colleges all over the country are sending demonstrators. Locally, buses are going from SUNY New Paltz, Vassar, Bard and Marist. They've hooked up with women's groups from throughout the region to get everyone to Washington who wants to go.
I'm going. And you're invited.
Here's who to contact for information about bus reservations and other details. It's first come, first served.
Planned Parenthood of the Mid Hudson Valley: Has 10 buses leaving from Newburgh, Poughkeepsie and New Paltz. $25. Register at www.ppmhv.org or call Willa Freiband at 471-1530, Ext. 14 or Ext. 16.
Orange County NOW: Has one bus leaving from Middletown. $25. Call Marianne Woodward at 343-6559.
SUNY New Paltz: Has one bus leaving from campus. $15, students; $25, non-students. E-mail Wazina Zondon at voxnewpaltz@hotmail.com.
Women in Black, Ulster County: Has one bus leaving from Kingston with a stop in New Paltz. $40. Will be marching under a peace banner. Call Jane VanDeBogart at 679-7502.
Women of Reformed Judaism at the Monroe Temple: No bus but is organizing people to march under their banner. Call Elora Kalish at 928-9235.
Spread the word. I'll see you there."
You're entitled to disagree with me, and I hope you do so we can talk about it, and I promise I won't gloat if Shrub is booted in November. But whether you agree or disagree, or can't decide -- which is fine, too, as long as you're thinking about it -- read on ...
***
"WARNING: BUSH IS HAZARDOUS TO WOMEN'S HEALTH
By Beth Quinn
Times Herald-Record
bquinn@th-record.com
OK, girls, start your engines. After taking a three-year beating from Bush, the counterattack begins.
It starts April 25 in Washington, D.C., as hundreds of thousands of women (and the men who love them) converge on the capital to participate in the March for Women's Lives.
This march is many things. It's a pro-choice rally at a time when reproductive rights are under attack. It's a peace march at a time when our children are dying in a war being fought for the Big WMD Lie. It's a grass-roots effort to take a stand against everything this administration is for.
What it's not, though, is an end in itself. April 25 marks the beginning of a fight that will culminate in November when we vote Bush out of the White House.
Bush declared this war on Jan. 22, 2001, when his very first public act was to impose a gag rule on international family planning agencies. Two months later, on March 29, 2001, he thumbed his nose at the women of America by closing the White House Office for Women's Initiatives and Outreach. Since then, he has systematically attacked women's rights. He has stripped contraceptive coverage from federal employees; appointed anti-choice zealots to the federal courts; signed into law the first ban on an abortion procedure since 1973. And he, along with his fellow right-wing ideologues in Congress, keeps chipping away. Just two weeks ago, the House passed the Unborn Victims of Violence Act, which would treat attacks on a pregnant woman as separate crimes against both the mother and fetus. That has an emotional appeal, but it would give a fetus legal status and put women in the back seat. It should be more accurately named the Adult Female Victims of the Bush Administration Act.
To see the long list of his attacks on women, go to www.ppfa.org and click search for "War on Women." It should be required reading for anyone who menstruates.
But you know what? Bush is scared of us. He knows how powerful we can be. After all, women outnumber men and a greater proportion of us turn out to vote.
That's why he trotted out his wife, Laura, last week to kick off a campaign to fight heart disease in women. The White House e-mailed 2 million women to let them know that the first lady was launching a "campaign to fight women and heart disease."
It was an unintended miswording on their part, I'm sure. No doubt they meant to say "a campaign to fight heart disease in women," but the slip contained more than an element of truth.
Healthy hearts are good, no question about that. But it's our uteruses that are in graver danger right now.
The April 25 march also signifies a passing of the torch to a younger generation of women who now have to take up the fight for reproductive freedom. Those who've been fighting to hold on for the past 30 years are getting tired. They need to pass on the leadership.
And it's happening. Colleges all over the country are sending demonstrators. Locally, buses are going from SUNY New Paltz, Vassar, Bard and Marist. They've hooked up with women's groups from throughout the region to get everyone to Washington who wants to go.
I'm going. And you're invited.
Here's who to contact for information about bus reservations and other details. It's first come, first served.
Planned Parenthood of the Mid Hudson Valley: Has 10 buses leaving from Newburgh, Poughkeepsie and New Paltz. $25. Register at www.ppmhv.org or call Willa Freiband at 471-1530, Ext. 14 or Ext. 16.
Orange County NOW: Has one bus leaving from Middletown. $25. Call Marianne Woodward at 343-6559.
SUNY New Paltz: Has one bus leaving from campus. $15, students; $25, non-students. E-mail Wazina Zondon at voxnewpaltz@hotmail.com.
Women in Black, Ulster County: Has one bus leaving from Kingston with a stop in New Paltz. $40. Will be marching under a peace banner. Call Jane VanDeBogart at 679-7502.
Women of Reformed Judaism at the Monroe Temple: No bus but is organizing people to march under their banner. Call Elora Kalish at 928-9235.
Spread the word. I'll see you there."
Friday, March 5
SERIOUS THOUGHTS . . .
I am watching a videotape of last week's "The Apprentice." Three members of the winning team received the opportunity to take a ride in Donald Trump's private helicopter and soar over the island of Manhattan. Troy, one of the three passengers, was basically seeing the sights of New York for the first time, and something he said regarding a particularly famous site brought tears to my eyes. Let us put aside for a moment the fact that I got teary during an episode of A REALITY SHOW.
Flying past and around the Statue of Liberty, Troy states: "I just got to see the most beautiful woman in the world."
It's such a cliche statement. Cheesy. Melodramatic. Corny.
But isn't it true? It has been centuries since any immigrant passed through Ellis Island, and the Statue of Liberty has just always been there. Rain or shine, heat or chill, she's just there. 9/11 came and went and she was threatened, but she's still there. In this day and age, people seeking a new life, a change of pace, a better future, a desire to fulfill a hope or a dream, a need to flee or escape still flock to the United States of America, and most of them never see her. Not when they enter, some not ever.
But isn't it true? Think about it. I did ... and I feel humble on behalf of our nation.
***
I want to reform public education in this country.
Okay, I'll start small, and say I want to reform public education in New York City.
I want to pay public school teachers in New York City the salary they deserve, not the salary that causes them to bleed out by the end of the month. In the alternative, I want to make the wealthy, or at least the famous actors and athletes, donate half of their absurd salaries to New York City public school teachers. I want to stock all New York City public schools chock-full of new instruments, plentiful supplies, updated and crackling new textbooks, unbroken crayons, sharpened pencils, new computers and printers, new and tuned instruments, lockers that open and close properly, fully-inflated balls and new sports equipment. I want to install modern filing systems, phones, copy machines, faxes, modems and safety measures. I want to implement accurate but unobtrusive security systems so that students will know they are NOT entering a jail, but WILL know they are safe for the eight hours they are in their building. I want the City to support teachers above and beyond almost any other industry it supports, and to root for them no matter what.
I want to employ security guards who don't molest the students. I want to hire administrators who administrate on behalf of the children, not on behalf of the Mayor or the bottom line. I want there to be no bottom line; instead, I want to create a bottomless pit of funding and resources. I want to lure the best and brightest and most motivated and most energetic and most ambitious and most creative and most altruistic and most generous and most humble teachers this Earth has to offer. I want the students to be surrounded by adults and authority who love them unconditionally.
I want social workers and guidance counselors and health-caregivers on campus who can provide succor and comfort and Kleenex and bandages and advice and professionalism to students who find none of these things at home. I want free breakfast, lunch and dinner if necessary to be provided to students who find none of these things at home. I want a reliable system of teachers and administrators who will generously pour out love and firmness and ambition to students who find none of these things at home. I want drug abuse prevention counseling and comprehensive sex education and peer counseling to be available to students who find none of these things at home. I want sports and arts and music and theater and volunteer opportunities to be open to those students who find none of these things at home.
I want structures that withstand mold and infestation. I want doors and windows that lock, and glass that never breaks. I want clean air vents, adequate heating and cooling, toilets that flush and never clog, faucets that don't drip, water fountains that don't peter out. I want basketball nets that don't sag, music rooms that are soundproof, bright and airy art rooms filtering endless molecules of natural light. I want asphalt that isn't cracked and playground equipment that isn't missing chain links.
I want the citizens of New York City to take responsibility for its children, ALL of them. I want parents who review homework and assist with science projects. I want adult authority figures who do not discriminate against their students and children based on gender or race, size or appearance. I want neighbors who watch over the kids playing in the street so no child gets kidnapped, molested, touched by drugs, run over by speeding cars. I want parents to stop abusing their children so that the kids can go to school in the morning with their heads held high, sure of their self-worth and confident of their abilities.
I want it all.
I am watching a videotape of last week's "The Apprentice." Three members of the winning team received the opportunity to take a ride in Donald Trump's private helicopter and soar over the island of Manhattan. Troy, one of the three passengers, was basically seeing the sights of New York for the first time, and something he said regarding a particularly famous site brought tears to my eyes. Let us put aside for a moment the fact that I got teary during an episode of A REALITY SHOW.
Flying past and around the Statue of Liberty, Troy states: "I just got to see the most beautiful woman in the world."
It's such a cliche statement. Cheesy. Melodramatic. Corny.
But isn't it true? It has been centuries since any immigrant passed through Ellis Island, and the Statue of Liberty has just always been there. Rain or shine, heat or chill, she's just there. 9/11 came and went and she was threatened, but she's still there. In this day and age, people seeking a new life, a change of pace, a better future, a desire to fulfill a hope or a dream, a need to flee or escape still flock to the United States of America, and most of them never see her. Not when they enter, some not ever.
But isn't it true? Think about it. I did ... and I feel humble on behalf of our nation.
***
I want to reform public education in this country.
Okay, I'll start small, and say I want to reform public education in New York City.
I want to pay public school teachers in New York City the salary they deserve, not the salary that causes them to bleed out by the end of the month. In the alternative, I want to make the wealthy, or at least the famous actors and athletes, donate half of their absurd salaries to New York City public school teachers. I want to stock all New York City public schools chock-full of new instruments, plentiful supplies, updated and crackling new textbooks, unbroken crayons, sharpened pencils, new computers and printers, new and tuned instruments, lockers that open and close properly, fully-inflated balls and new sports equipment. I want to install modern filing systems, phones, copy machines, faxes, modems and safety measures. I want to implement accurate but unobtrusive security systems so that students will know they are NOT entering a jail, but WILL know they are safe for the eight hours they are in their building. I want the City to support teachers above and beyond almost any other industry it supports, and to root for them no matter what.
I want to employ security guards who don't molest the students. I want to hire administrators who administrate on behalf of the children, not on behalf of the Mayor or the bottom line. I want there to be no bottom line; instead, I want to create a bottomless pit of funding and resources. I want to lure the best and brightest and most motivated and most energetic and most ambitious and most creative and most altruistic and most generous and most humble teachers this Earth has to offer. I want the students to be surrounded by adults and authority who love them unconditionally.
I want social workers and guidance counselors and health-caregivers on campus who can provide succor and comfort and Kleenex and bandages and advice and professionalism to students who find none of these things at home. I want free breakfast, lunch and dinner if necessary to be provided to students who find none of these things at home. I want a reliable system of teachers and administrators who will generously pour out love and firmness and ambition to students who find none of these things at home. I want drug abuse prevention counseling and comprehensive sex education and peer counseling to be available to students who find none of these things at home. I want sports and arts and music and theater and volunteer opportunities to be open to those students who find none of these things at home.
I want structures that withstand mold and infestation. I want doors and windows that lock, and glass that never breaks. I want clean air vents, adequate heating and cooling, toilets that flush and never clog, faucets that don't drip, water fountains that don't peter out. I want basketball nets that don't sag, music rooms that are soundproof, bright and airy art rooms filtering endless molecules of natural light. I want asphalt that isn't cracked and playground equipment that isn't missing chain links.
I want the citizens of New York City to take responsibility for its children, ALL of them. I want parents who review homework and assist with science projects. I want adult authority figures who do not discriminate against their students and children based on gender or race, size or appearance. I want neighbors who watch over the kids playing in the street so no child gets kidnapped, molested, touched by drugs, run over by speeding cars. I want parents to stop abusing their children so that the kids can go to school in the morning with their heads held high, sure of their self-worth and confident of their abilities.
I want it all.
BRIGHT N' EARLY . . .
Here we go with the Friday Five:
What was...
1. ...your first grade teacher's name? Mrs. Grady. Tall, white-haired, with a shaky granny voice. She was the best, and I would kick the shins of any boy who called her "Mrs. Gravy."
2. ...your favorite Saturday morning cartoon? I don't think I had a favorite, but I do believe I watched them all: "The Mon-chee-chee's;" "Care Bears;" "The Smurfs;" "M.A.S.K.;" and then later on, "Jem." Yes, I watched "Jem," and I loved it!
3. ...the name of your very first best friend? Caroline, but she was a family friend, and we never went to school together.
4. ...your favorite breakfast cereal? Rice Krispies ... with a spoonful of sugar, no kidding.
5. ...your favorite thing to do after school? Run into the house, dump my bookbag in my room, throw on sneakers, run outside, grab my bicycle, speed down the street to where all my friends were gathered, and spend hours doing ... well, nothing much.
Here we go with the Friday Five:
What was...
1. ...your first grade teacher's name? Mrs. Grady. Tall, white-haired, with a shaky granny voice. She was the best, and I would kick the shins of any boy who called her "Mrs. Gravy."
2. ...your favorite Saturday morning cartoon? I don't think I had a favorite, but I do believe I watched them all: "The Mon-chee-chee's;" "Care Bears;" "The Smurfs;" "M.A.S.K.;" and then later on, "Jem." Yes, I watched "Jem," and I loved it!
3. ...the name of your very first best friend? Caroline, but she was a family friend, and we never went to school together.
4. ...your favorite breakfast cereal? Rice Krispies ... with a spoonful of sugar, no kidding.
5. ...your favorite thing to do after school? Run into the house, dump my bookbag in my room, throw on sneakers, run outside, grab my bicycle, speed down the street to where all my friends were gathered, and spend hours doing ... well, nothing much.
Thursday, March 4
I'M HERE . . .
Uh-oh, I might get scolded again, for not blogging, and if you're not interested in this subject matter, you might scold me some more, but here goes ...
Check out this interesting article about the late Supreme Court Justice Harry Blackmun.
***
NEXT UP . . .
I finished "The Teammates" by David Halberstam and "Living History" by Hillary Rodham Clinton. I am now moving onto "Schoolgirls: Young Women, Self-Esteem, and the Confidence Gap" by Peggy Orenstein. Ironically, I borrowed this book from Jaime, who has never read it and acquired the book for some reason from his sister.
I've read a few books about young girls, junior high school, peer pressure, social pressure, confidence, etc. I don't think I suffered overly from any of these issues when I was a young girl, but I find the subject fascinating anyway. It's kind of like how I enjoy reading some medical journals: I can only understand about a third of what is written (and I skip all the incomprehensible footnotes), but some of the crazy research going on out there fascinates me. If someone could pay me to read random things professionally ... I'd be awfully wealthy.
Uh-oh, I might get scolded again, for not blogging, and if you're not interested in this subject matter, you might scold me some more, but here goes ...
Check out this interesting article about the late Supreme Court Justice Harry Blackmun.
***
NEXT UP . . .
I finished "The Teammates" by David Halberstam and "Living History" by Hillary Rodham Clinton. I am now moving onto "Schoolgirls: Young Women, Self-Esteem, and the Confidence Gap" by Peggy Orenstein. Ironically, I borrowed this book from Jaime, who has never read it and acquired the book for some reason from his sister.
I've read a few books about young girls, junior high school, peer pressure, social pressure, confidence, etc. I don't think I suffered overly from any of these issues when I was a young girl, but I find the subject fascinating anyway. It's kind of like how I enjoy reading some medical journals: I can only understand about a third of what is written (and I skip all the incomprehensible footnotes), but some of the crazy research going on out there fascinates me. If someone could pay me to read random things professionally ... I'd be awfully wealthy.