Rising Blood Pressure
Feds Win Right to War Protesters' Records
too pissed to comment
Sunday, February 08, 2004
Friday, February 06, 2004
Writing
Tonight, while the Hubby-Man was making dinner, he gave me a little blast from the past. And I quote:
"If you don't want your baby, then we'll try to find a home for it."
I don't remember what brought it up, because that phrase always triggers rant-mode with me. You see, it's what was said by the first adoption agency I called, when I was trying to find the right parents for my son. Yeah, that's a great way to get people to give up their kids. When I rant about Christianity, that incident is a big part of it. There is a place of hatred deep in my heart for the woman who said those words. It lessens me as a person, it limits my spiritual growth, and it remains. I just can't stop making her wrong. And secretly, I don't want to.
I did not work with that agency, I chose another. You can read all about it on Random Redhead. You won't read about the birth (9 lbs 15 oz), or the resultant stitches. You won't read about the teddy bear I bought, so my arms wouldn't be empty on the flight home; or how I leaked breast milk all down my shirt because of the pressure change on the plane. You won't even read about how very, very hard it was to leave my son at the hospital. How I said, "Please... Can I hold him one more time?" and the nurse said, "He's already gone." (Nope, you get to read that here!)
You also won't be reading what it's like to sign the adoption papers.
The story is too big for me to type my way through in one sitting. The rest will have to wait for another day.
It's a really good read anyway, so read it and enjoy. Not everything I write into RR is dark and depressing. Giving up my son was actually a very uplifting experience.
Tonight, while the Hubby-Man was making dinner, he gave me a little blast from the past. And I quote:
"If you don't want your baby, then we'll try to find a home for it."
I don't remember what brought it up, because that phrase always triggers rant-mode with me. You see, it's what was said by the first adoption agency I called, when I was trying to find the right parents for my son. Yeah, that's a great way to get people to give up their kids. When I rant about Christianity, that incident is a big part of it. There is a place of hatred deep in my heart for the woman who said those words. It lessens me as a person, it limits my spiritual growth, and it remains. I just can't stop making her wrong. And secretly, I don't want to.
I did not work with that agency, I chose another. You can read all about it on Random Redhead. You won't read about the birth (9 lbs 15 oz), or the resultant stitches. You won't read about the teddy bear I bought, so my arms wouldn't be empty on the flight home; or how I leaked breast milk all down my shirt because of the pressure change on the plane. You won't even read about how very, very hard it was to leave my son at the hospital. How I said, "Please... Can I hold him one more time?" and the nurse said, "He's already gone." (Nope, you get to read that here!)
You also won't be reading what it's like to sign the adoption papers.
The story is too big for me to type my way through in one sitting. The rest will have to wait for another day.
It's a really good read anyway, so read it and enjoy. Not everything I write into RR is dark and depressing. Giving up my son was actually a very uplifting experience.
Wednesday, February 04, 2004
Three Ring Circus
Remember Schoolhouse Rock? Of course you do. We all have fond memories of our favorites like, "I'm Just A Bill" or "Conjunction Junction". Years ago, we bought the Schoolhouse Rock collection on videotape, and I was re-introduced to "Three Ring Circus" which explains the three branches of government. The Supreme Court doesn't make the news as often as the President or members of the Legislative branch. I think that's good. It frees up the Supreme Court, and gives them the space to do their job. I also like that they get a lifetime appointment, so they don't have to worry about getting booted when they make unpopular decisions. I'd like to talk about some of the decisions they'll be working on after their midwinter break.
The Pledge of Allegiance: I'm all for making kids start their day by pledging their dedication to their country. I'm all for "One nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all". I'm all against "Under God".
Looking at how post Sept. 11th deals with terrorism and security: Yes!
The Supreme Courst will be testing the limits of presidential secrecy, civil rights protections for the disabled, and free speech vs protecting children from Internet pRon. They will be looking at patients rights to sue their HMO's. Cases now awaiting rulings include a church-state fight over scholarships for religious education, a look at the role of partisan politics in legislative redistricting, and a case testing the legal rights of more than 650 foreigners held in open-ended military custody at the U.S. Navy base at Guantanamo Bay.
All I can say is, do it, baby!
Remember Schoolhouse Rock? Of course you do. We all have fond memories of our favorites like, "I'm Just A Bill" or "Conjunction Junction". Years ago, we bought the Schoolhouse Rock collection on videotape, and I was re-introduced to "Three Ring Circus" which explains the three branches of government. The Supreme Court doesn't make the news as often as the President or members of the Legislative branch. I think that's good. It frees up the Supreme Court, and gives them the space to do their job. I also like that they get a lifetime appointment, so they don't have to worry about getting booted when they make unpopular decisions. I'd like to talk about some of the decisions they'll be working on after their midwinter break.
The Pledge of Allegiance: I'm all for making kids start their day by pledging their dedication to their country. I'm all for "One nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all". I'm all against "Under God".
Looking at how post Sept. 11th deals with terrorism and security: Yes!
The Supreme Courst will be testing the limits of presidential secrecy, civil rights protections for the disabled, and free speech vs protecting children from Internet pRon. They will be looking at patients rights to sue their HMO's. Cases now awaiting rulings include a church-state fight over scholarships for religious education, a look at the role of partisan politics in legislative redistricting, and a case testing the legal rights of more than 650 foreigners held in open-ended military custody at the U.S. Navy base at Guantanamo Bay.
All I can say is, do it, baby!
Monday, February 02, 2004
Just One Teacher
You all know the story... Dirt poor kid, city schools and one magical teacher who turns their life around. Well, here's my story.
Mr. Forest did not turn my life around, but he did leave a lasting impression. I was attending Central Visual and Performing Arts High School, if you want to call hanging out in the bathroom all day "attending". At the beginning of the school year, I'd gone to all my classes to decide which ones would be worth my time. Acting class sucked that year, so I usually skipped it. French class I could take or leave. Math was amusing for about a minute, then I got tired of watching my classmates throw their worksheets out the window and shoot spitballs at the teacher. Then there was History. My first day in History class, Mr. Forest gave a speech. It went something like this, "I teach History in this class. I teach it because I love it, and I'd like you to love it too. If you plan on goofing off, you might as well leave now."
Here he paused. A few kids got up and left, the rest of us stayed glued to our seats. He had basically dared us to behave. His demeanor suggested that we were only marginally worth his time, but he'd give us a chance to prove ourselves. After the troublemakers had left, taking their teen angst and authority-bucking with them, Mr. Forest continued.
"Good. I show a lot of movies in this class. You will not sleep. You will not bother the students who want to learn something. Troublemakers will be ejected, and you will not return... Now then, I promise you will learn everything I can teach you. All you have to do is show up and pay attention... I understand, sometimes things happen. You can always talk to me."
That's the gist of what he said. Many teachers before him have said the same things, but Mr. Forest said it with feeling. He didn't make threats, he didn't stand there powerless, pleading with us to behave. He was panning for gold in that classroom. He knew we were worth his time, and suddenly, we knew it too.
Barring the days I cut school entirely, I always attended Mr. Forest's History class. I even did my homework. Then the bad thing happened. I cut school and got raped. In the weeks after the rape, I skipped school entirely. I spent my days wandering the streets, or hiding in the house. I could not face Mr. Forest. I had done a stupid thing and paid for it mightily, and even though Mr. Forest said we could talk to him, I couldn't set foot in his class again.
When I finally went back to school, I avoided History class. One day Mr. Forest spotted me in the hallway. He looked down his nose at me and said, "You haven't been in class recently." I had nothing to say to that. I wanted to ask him if I could come back, if I were somehow worth a second chance, but I was afraid of the answer.
The next time I passed Mr. Forest in the hall, he acted like he didn't know me. That stung. I was no longer one of his students. His magical world of History, and the safe haven of his classroom, was closed to me. I think of Mr. Forest often. He taught more than History. He taught me about the world. There are people who will share everything with you, but they won't always give you second chances. Mr. Forest taught me to use my first chance wisely. Maturity taught me to speak up, no matter how ugly that speaking up may be; because you have to ask for a second chance.
You all know the story... Dirt poor kid, city schools and one magical teacher who turns their life around. Well, here's my story.
Mr. Forest did not turn my life around, but he did leave a lasting impression. I was attending Central Visual and Performing Arts High School, if you want to call hanging out in the bathroom all day "attending". At the beginning of the school year, I'd gone to all my classes to decide which ones would be worth my time. Acting class sucked that year, so I usually skipped it. French class I could take or leave. Math was amusing for about a minute, then I got tired of watching my classmates throw their worksheets out the window and shoot spitballs at the teacher. Then there was History. My first day in History class, Mr. Forest gave a speech. It went something like this, "I teach History in this class. I teach it because I love it, and I'd like you to love it too. If you plan on goofing off, you might as well leave now."
Here he paused. A few kids got up and left, the rest of us stayed glued to our seats. He had basically dared us to behave. His demeanor suggested that we were only marginally worth his time, but he'd give us a chance to prove ourselves. After the troublemakers had left, taking their teen angst and authority-bucking with them, Mr. Forest continued.
"Good. I show a lot of movies in this class. You will not sleep. You will not bother the students who want to learn something. Troublemakers will be ejected, and you will not return... Now then, I promise you will learn everything I can teach you. All you have to do is show up and pay attention... I understand, sometimes things happen. You can always talk to me."
That's the gist of what he said. Many teachers before him have said the same things, but Mr. Forest said it with feeling. He didn't make threats, he didn't stand there powerless, pleading with us to behave. He was panning for gold in that classroom. He knew we were worth his time, and suddenly, we knew it too.
Barring the days I cut school entirely, I always attended Mr. Forest's History class. I even did my homework. Then the bad thing happened. I cut school and got raped. In the weeks after the rape, I skipped school entirely. I spent my days wandering the streets, or hiding in the house. I could not face Mr. Forest. I had done a stupid thing and paid for it mightily, and even though Mr. Forest said we could talk to him, I couldn't set foot in his class again.
When I finally went back to school, I avoided History class. One day Mr. Forest spotted me in the hallway. He looked down his nose at me and said, "You haven't been in class recently." I had nothing to say to that. I wanted to ask him if I could come back, if I were somehow worth a second chance, but I was afraid of the answer.
The next time I passed Mr. Forest in the hall, he acted like he didn't know me. That stung. I was no longer one of his students. His magical world of History, and the safe haven of his classroom, was closed to me. I think of Mr. Forest often. He taught more than History. He taught me about the world. There are people who will share everything with you, but they won't always give you second chances. Mr. Forest taught me to use my first chance wisely. Maturity taught me to speak up, no matter how ugly that speaking up may be; because you have to ask for a second chance.
Friday, January 30, 2004
Science and Friction
So it's cold and icy here in St. Louis. The main streets are perfectly clear, but the side streets... oh my. Dropping L off at school involves a side street. For the past few days, I've kept the truck in 4 wheel drive. (thank the Gods for 4wd) But today, I assumed I wouldn't be needing it. I haven't needed it except to get down the alley to my parking spot. So I'm driving down the side street, having already dropped off my son, and I see before me a big patch of ice. The ice wasn't there yesterday. I thought, "Where did that ice come from." Then I thought, "It's only on one side of the road. I'm not in 4wd. Is the drive wheel on the left or right side?" Just about then, I started to slide.
Have you ever noticed how time slows down when stuff like this happens? I always seem to have plenty of time to think.
The truck slid gracefully down the street, angled slightly toward the parked cars on the left hand side. I noted the grey station wagon that my bumper was going to make a nice dent in. Mathematically, I was heading straight for it. Foot on the brake, knowing I had no control, I wondered why the anti-lock brakes weren't pumping. I sent out the thought, "Goddess, please let me miss the station wagon." And the truck shifted, ever so slightly. I cruised past the station wagon, went right through the stop sign, and gained traction in the middle of the street. I looked in the rear view mirror and saw the SUV behind me just beginning the dance I'd just gone through. So I put the truck in gear (I drive a stick shift, and I had put it in neutral right before the slide), popped into 4wd, drove across the street, and up onto the sidewalk.
Again, thank the Gods for 4wd.
The SUV also missed the station wagon. It fishtailed a little, corrected, and slid out into the street. It was neat to see the experience play out on the face of the mom behind me. Startled, determined, relieved (when I drove onto the sidewalk), and finally aggravated. I understood completely. The aggravation was from the bitch in the red car who was gesticulating wildly at the two of us. How dare we obstruct her passage by sliding in front of her!
People are funny.
So it's cold and icy here in St. Louis. The main streets are perfectly clear, but the side streets... oh my. Dropping L off at school involves a side street. For the past few days, I've kept the truck in 4 wheel drive. (thank the Gods for 4wd) But today, I assumed I wouldn't be needing it. I haven't needed it except to get down the alley to my parking spot. So I'm driving down the side street, having already dropped off my son, and I see before me a big patch of ice. The ice wasn't there yesterday. I thought, "Where did that ice come from." Then I thought, "It's only on one side of the road. I'm not in 4wd. Is the drive wheel on the left or right side?" Just about then, I started to slide.
Have you ever noticed how time slows down when stuff like this happens? I always seem to have plenty of time to think.
The truck slid gracefully down the street, angled slightly toward the parked cars on the left hand side. I noted the grey station wagon that my bumper was going to make a nice dent in. Mathematically, I was heading straight for it. Foot on the brake, knowing I had no control, I wondered why the anti-lock brakes weren't pumping. I sent out the thought, "Goddess, please let me miss the station wagon." And the truck shifted, ever so slightly. I cruised past the station wagon, went right through the stop sign, and gained traction in the middle of the street. I looked in the rear view mirror and saw the SUV behind me just beginning the dance I'd just gone through. So I put the truck in gear (I drive a stick shift, and I had put it in neutral right before the slide), popped into 4wd, drove across the street, and up onto the sidewalk.
Again, thank the Gods for 4wd.
The SUV also missed the station wagon. It fishtailed a little, corrected, and slid out into the street. It was neat to see the experience play out on the face of the mom behind me. Startled, determined, relieved (when I drove onto the sidewalk), and finally aggravated. I understood completely. The aggravation was from the bitch in the red car who was gesticulating wildly at the two of us. How dare we obstruct her passage by sliding in front of her!
People are funny.
Monday, January 26, 2004
Baking Bread
Last night: The city is covered in ice, but that's ok! I have food on hand. The men folks want sloppy joes for dinner. We are out of bread, but that's ok! I have yeast on hand. The recipes in The Joy of Cooking all call for scalded milk. I don't want to scald any milk. But that's ok! John can give me his bread recipe!
So last night I baked 2 loaves of bread. I have a problem with bread. It seems all I can make is sourdough Italian bread. It's quite tasty, and I'm always disappointed because I'm not trying to make sourdough Italian bread. So last night, I tried to make sourdough Italian bread to support some sloppy joes. I followed John's recipe, and somehow made a giant Hawaiian bread biscuit. It was really good and very dense. We ate the whole loaf. I had enough dough left to make another loaf, so I cut into it and drizzled honey in the middle and baked it up. L and I just tried eating it. It is the nastiest thing I've ever baked. It smells like papier mache. It probably tastes like papier mache, too. I've never eaten papier mache, so I wouldn't know. It's floury and thick. It weighs a ton. I'm afraid to feed it to the birds, it's so bad.
My bread was so bad...
How bad was it?
It was so bad, my son said, "You should throw the bread away, and burn the pan it was baked in, and salt the oven in which it was baked."
Thank you, thank you. That loaf of bread is, to date, the worst failure of my life. :)
So my question is, how did one batch of dough yeild such a disparity in loaves?
Like I said before, I have a problem with bread. :)
Last night: The city is covered in ice, but that's ok! I have food on hand. The men folks want sloppy joes for dinner. We are out of bread, but that's ok! I have yeast on hand. The recipes in The Joy of Cooking all call for scalded milk. I don't want to scald any milk. But that's ok! John can give me his bread recipe!
So last night I baked 2 loaves of bread. I have a problem with bread. It seems all I can make is sourdough Italian bread. It's quite tasty, and I'm always disappointed because I'm not trying to make sourdough Italian bread. So last night, I tried to make sourdough Italian bread to support some sloppy joes. I followed John's recipe, and somehow made a giant Hawaiian bread biscuit. It was really good and very dense. We ate the whole loaf. I had enough dough left to make another loaf, so I cut into it and drizzled honey in the middle and baked it up. L and I just tried eating it. It is the nastiest thing I've ever baked. It smells like papier mache. It probably tastes like papier mache, too. I've never eaten papier mache, so I wouldn't know. It's floury and thick. It weighs a ton. I'm afraid to feed it to the birds, it's so bad.
My bread was so bad...
How bad was it?
It was so bad, my son said, "You should throw the bread away, and burn the pan it was baked in, and salt the oven in which it was baked."
Thank you, thank you. That loaf of bread is, to date, the worst failure of my life. :)
So my question is, how did one batch of dough yeild such a disparity in loaves?
Like I said before, I have a problem with bread. :)
Sunday, January 25, 2004
Silly things I've done in the last 24 hours
Wrote about ecstatic trance, saved as draft, thought I'd lost it, found it by changing my entries view.
Read a blog, clicked a side bar link, read that blog and thought, "Now why did they link to this? Oh, right! It's someone they know!"
Commented on quality control with pregnancy tests.
Talked a lot in my sleep, but not loudly enough for my hubby to wake up enough to hear it. Which is a shame, because when I talk in my sleep I say funny things like, "This was supposed to be a time machine."
Wrote about ecstatic trance, saved as draft, thought I'd lost it, found it by changing my entries view.
Read a blog, clicked a side bar link, read that blog and thought, "Now why did they link to this? Oh, right! It's someone they know!"
Commented on quality control with pregnancy tests.
Talked a lot in my sleep, but not loudly enough for my hubby to wake up enough to hear it. Which is a shame, because when I talk in my sleep I say funny things like, "This was supposed to be a time machine."
Saturday, January 24, 2004
This is why I link to you guys!
Reading my blogroll relieved all my worries today. Yep yep.
Confessions of a Gradeschool Role Model wrote the most eloquent observation of prejudice I've ever read. It resonated with my experience of prejudice (being a redhead), showed me how much deeper prejudice can be, and had me view my neighbor in a totally new light. I'd thought of her as either painfully shy, or obnoxiously snobby. It never occurred to me that she might be frightened of being pre-judged because she was born in a different country from the one she currently lives in.
One Good Thing received an unusual birthday gift, which reminded me of the unusual gifts Hubby and I have gotten from a certain set of in-laws. Not the in-laws I blog about occasionally, the other in-laws. They have sent us: dirty coin cups from Las Vegas, everything that didn't sell at their yard sale (why did they have 3 avocado colored blenders?), freebies from every place they stopped at while touring the country, and... and... Chasmyn, you know what's coming...
A used George Foreman grill with old food encrusted on it. That's right. There I was thinking they had sent us a nice gift for once. I didn't care that the box was clearly used, therefore the grill was used. I've never minded getting a used gift. But they sent it to us with evidence that is was used! I wasted a lot of time wondering if it was some kind of subtle insult, before I realized I didn't care.
Numenous Thoughts knocked me to the floor with her post "Freedoms", and "costs" is pretty good too.
Abbreviated Abstractions also discusses discrimination. She takes a different tack, and hers is just as good.
and
Kensho Godchaser discusses "paganism" and turns a negative into a sparkling positive. (Oh yeah)
Thank you all for being. What better way to forget your worries, than to read a lot of thought provoking entries!
Reading my blogroll relieved all my worries today. Yep yep.
Confessions of a Gradeschool Role Model wrote the most eloquent observation of prejudice I've ever read. It resonated with my experience of prejudice (being a redhead), showed me how much deeper prejudice can be, and had me view my neighbor in a totally new light. I'd thought of her as either painfully shy, or obnoxiously snobby. It never occurred to me that she might be frightened of being pre-judged because she was born in a different country from the one she currently lives in.
One Good Thing received an unusual birthday gift, which reminded me of the unusual gifts Hubby and I have gotten from a certain set of in-laws. Not the in-laws I blog about occasionally, the other in-laws. They have sent us: dirty coin cups from Las Vegas, everything that didn't sell at their yard sale (why did they have 3 avocado colored blenders?), freebies from every place they stopped at while touring the country, and... and... Chasmyn, you know what's coming...
A used George Foreman grill with old food encrusted on it. That's right. There I was thinking they had sent us a nice gift for once. I didn't care that the box was clearly used, therefore the grill was used. I've never minded getting a used gift. But they sent it to us with evidence that is was used! I wasted a lot of time wondering if it was some kind of subtle insult, before I realized I didn't care.
Numenous Thoughts knocked me to the floor with her post "Freedoms", and "costs" is pretty good too.
Abbreviated Abstractions also discusses discrimination. She takes a different tack, and hers is just as good.
and
Kensho Godchaser discusses "paganism" and turns a negative into a sparkling positive. (Oh yeah)
Thank you all for being. What better way to forget your worries, than to read a lot of thought provoking entries!
Wednesday, January 21, 2004
Snarking the State Of the Union
The road trip story is funny, this one's just bitter :p
Before I get into the body count, I'm going to express my support for the Democrats who disrupted Bush's speech with a standing ovation when he said, "Key provisions of the Patriot Act are set to expire next year." It was lovely seeing him open his mouth to go on, only to be stopped by a smattering of applause that grew and grew. The camera panned out so we could see the minority section of Congress on their feet and making a statement.
The Body Count
references to terror or terrorists= 20
references to killers, killing or killed= 11
references to war= 10
references to 9/11= 3
references to Osama Bin Laden= 0
Congratulatory back-patting, and reminders of his greatness:
"Because of American leadership and resolve, the world is changing for the better. Last month, the leader of Libya voluntarily pledged to disclose and dismantle all of his regime's weapons of mass destruction programmes, including a uranium enrichment project for nuclear weapons. Colonel Gaddaffi correctly judged that his country would be better off, and far more secure, without weapons of mass murder."
"When I came to this rostrum on September 20th, 2001, I brought the police shield of a fallen officer, my reminder of lives that ended, and a task that does not end. I gave to you and to all Americans my complete commitment to securing our country and defeating our enemies."
"I have had the honour of meeting our servicemen and women at many posts, from the deck of a carrier in the Pacific, to a mess hall in Baghdad."
"Last month a girl in Lincoln, Rhode Island, sent me a letter. It began: "Dear George W Bush. If there is anything you know I, Ashley Pearson age 10, can do to help anyone, please send me a letter and tell me what I can do to save our country." She added this PS: "If you can send a letter to the troops, please put 'Ashley Pearson believes in you.' "
Outright Lies
"The American economy is growing stronger. The tax relief you passed is working."
"You are raising the standards of our public schools"
"Our closest allies have been unwavering."
"Had we failed to act, Security Council resolutions on Iraq would have been revealed as empty threats, weakening the United Nations and encouraging defiance by dictators around the world."
"And because you acted to stimulate our economy with tax relief, this economy is strong, and growing stronger."
"The pace of economic growth in the third quarter of 2003 was the fastest in nearly 20 years. New home construction, the highest in almost 20 years. Home ownership rates the highest ever. Manufacturing activity is increasing. Inflation is low. Interest rates are low. Exports are growing. Productivity is high. And jobs are on the rise."
"We are providing more funding for our schools, a 36% increase since 2001. We are requiring higher standards. We are regularly testing every child on the fundamentals. We are reporting results to parents, and making sure they have better options when schools are not performing. We are making progress toward excellence for every child."
Scary Stuff
I'm not even going there right now.
The road trip story is funny, this one's just bitter :p
Before I get into the body count, I'm going to express my support for the Democrats who disrupted Bush's speech with a standing ovation when he said, "Key provisions of the Patriot Act are set to expire next year." It was lovely seeing him open his mouth to go on, only to be stopped by a smattering of applause that grew and grew. The camera panned out so we could see the minority section of Congress on their feet and making a statement.
The Body Count
references to terror or terrorists= 20
references to killers, killing or killed= 11
references to war= 10
references to 9/11= 3
references to Osama Bin Laden= 0
Congratulatory back-patting, and reminders of his greatness:
"Because of American leadership and resolve, the world is changing for the better. Last month, the leader of Libya voluntarily pledged to disclose and dismantle all of his regime's weapons of mass destruction programmes, including a uranium enrichment project for nuclear weapons. Colonel Gaddaffi correctly judged that his country would be better off, and far more secure, without weapons of mass murder."
"When I came to this rostrum on September 20th, 2001, I brought the police shield of a fallen officer, my reminder of lives that ended, and a task that does not end. I gave to you and to all Americans my complete commitment to securing our country and defeating our enemies."
"I have had the honour of meeting our servicemen and women at many posts, from the deck of a carrier in the Pacific, to a mess hall in Baghdad."
"Last month a girl in Lincoln, Rhode Island, sent me a letter. It began: "Dear George W Bush. If there is anything you know I, Ashley Pearson age 10, can do to help anyone, please send me a letter and tell me what I can do to save our country." She added this PS: "If you can send a letter to the troops, please put 'Ashley Pearson believes in you.' "
Outright Lies
"The American economy is growing stronger. The tax relief you passed is working."
"You are raising the standards of our public schools"
"Our closest allies have been unwavering."
"Had we failed to act, Security Council resolutions on Iraq would have been revealed as empty threats, weakening the United Nations and encouraging defiance by dictators around the world."
"And because you acted to stimulate our economy with tax relief, this economy is strong, and growing stronger."
"The pace of economic growth in the third quarter of 2003 was the fastest in nearly 20 years. New home construction, the highest in almost 20 years. Home ownership rates the highest ever. Manufacturing activity is increasing. Inflation is low. Interest rates are low. Exports are growing. Productivity is high. And jobs are on the rise."
"We are providing more funding for our schools, a 36% increase since 2001. We are requiring higher standards. We are regularly testing every child on the fundamentals. We are reporting results to parents, and making sure they have better options when schools are not performing. We are making progress toward excellence for every child."
Scary Stuff
I'm not even going there right now.
Ok. Bush sucks, Persephone is ill and Chasmyn lost power last night. It was down all over her section of the city. It's back now. Hail Eris!
Road Trip
I had forgotten how much fun a road trip could be. Those simple, one-day jaunts of my adolescence seemed so far behind me. I'm a grown-up now, I live by the clock (snicker), I can't be wasting time driving to nowhere, right? Oh, so wrong!
Chasmyn got a call from a rancher who raises organic cattle, they were culling the herd again; would she like to buy a side of beef? You bet she would! Lots of people got on the beef-buying bandwagon this time around. My family tossed in $100.
The next 2 weeks were torture for me. It pains me to buy meat from the grocery store when I know the good stuff is just around the corner.
Yesterday was the perfect day to pick up our processed half-cow. It was nice and cold all day, so the meat wouldn't thaw during the trip. The processing plant is in Perryville. I'd never even heard of Perryville before. It's way down highway 55. I was picturing a tiny town of 1,000 people, pick-up trucks with gun racks, maybe even a little red schoolhouse. "This should be quite an adventure in people watching!" I thought.
Chasmyn picked me up before 9:00, and we were off. The 20+ miles from my house to Arnold went by in an eyeblink. I had forgotten how easy travel is when you have company. We chatted about everything and nothing, drinking coffee while traveling a nearly empty highway. This was my first road trip with Chasmyn. (How could we have known each other for so long, and never road-tripped together?) I learned a lot from riding with her. As usual, I pointed out wildlife along the way. Some things never change. Every time I spotted something, Chasmyn saw it too. I marveled at that.
Most long trips for me go like this, "Look, a hawk! Oh. You missed it. Look, a cow! Oh, you missed it. Bunnies! You missed them." etc. With Chasmyn, I'd say "hawk!" and she'd say, "I see it!" It was fun! So we whiled away the miles, doing all the neat road trip stuff. We visited a rest stop to stare at the map. The bathroom had auto-flush toilets and an
automatic sink. Whoa! All you had to do was soap up, the sink did the rest. It rinsed your hands with warm water, and dried them too. (warm water in a Missouri rest stop???) I felt like I'd stepped into a science-fiction novel.
We finally get to Perryville, which had neither gun racks, nor a little red schoolhouse. It had a Wal-Mart instead. It also had a new looking community center, a beautiful retirement community and a welcoming feel. When I think rural - I think Carbondale. This place was as far from Carbondale as could be. The last of my reservations with Chasmyn moving to rural Minnesota vanished in Perryville. If most of rural America is like Perryville, move me there!
The processing plant was outside of town, and it wasn't what I'd expected either. It reeked, yes; but the place was nice. I had expected a gore-splattered butcher and a bunch of frightened animals, or a tiny little shack as a front for the meat that was discreetly murdered elsewhere. What we found was a pleasant small business and a nice guy in tight jeans. I mean 1980's tight jeans. I wondered if he had plans for reproducing, because his nuts sure weren't making viable sperm in those Levi's. The funny thing is, I didn't notice a thing until he turned around. My ever observant eyes spotted the worn mark of a chew canister on the right pocket. The left pocket was not as worn as the right, but both sides would eventually match. The left pocket now held the chew. It's amazing, the things you can tell from looking at a man's backside. I could tell that he never carried a wallet there, but he'd only just recently switched chew-holding sides. From the way he walked, he was comfortable with the canister in either pocket. Nice butt, by the way. I would have been all over him in the 80's. (Ooh, I just had a thought. I've been assuming it was chew... it could have been a round tin of mints, or even hand balm. Gasp! Assumptions are bad things)
Anyway, He loaded 300 lbs of meat into the trunk for us and my, what a wonderful sight that was! Mmmm, meat. He asked if we wanted the heart, liver or tongue. Chasmyn and I both paused, lost in our own thoughts. I don't know what she was thinking, but I was weighing waste vs. getting my family to eat unusual cow bits. I decided, yes, I did want the tongue and heart. Chasmyn took the liver, somebody might want it. I've never had tongue before. The Joy Of Cooking tells how to prepare it, so I'm gonna cook it up and take it to Grandma. Kudos to Chasmyn for the idea!
On the way back to St. Louis, I saw the strangest (for me) sight. I'd been looking at wildlife in the fields we passed, and I saw a cat! In the next field I saw another cat! It's not that I didn't think cats lived on farms, I've just never seen one in a field before.
So there it is. My adventure in Perryville; complete with tight jeans, kitty cats and cow tongue.
Road Trip
I had forgotten how much fun a road trip could be. Those simple, one-day jaunts of my adolescence seemed so far behind me. I'm a grown-up now, I live by the clock (snicker), I can't be wasting time driving to nowhere, right? Oh, so wrong!
Chasmyn got a call from a rancher who raises organic cattle, they were culling the herd again; would she like to buy a side of beef? You bet she would! Lots of people got on the beef-buying bandwagon this time around. My family tossed in $100.
The next 2 weeks were torture for me. It pains me to buy meat from the grocery store when I know the good stuff is just around the corner.
Yesterday was the perfect day to pick up our processed half-cow. It was nice and cold all day, so the meat wouldn't thaw during the trip. The processing plant is in Perryville. I'd never even heard of Perryville before. It's way down highway 55. I was picturing a tiny town of 1,000 people, pick-up trucks with gun racks, maybe even a little red schoolhouse. "This should be quite an adventure in people watching!" I thought.
Chasmyn picked me up before 9:00, and we were off. The 20+ miles from my house to Arnold went by in an eyeblink. I had forgotten how easy travel is when you have company. We chatted about everything and nothing, drinking coffee while traveling a nearly empty highway. This was my first road trip with Chasmyn. (How could we have known each other for so long, and never road-tripped together?) I learned a lot from riding with her. As usual, I pointed out wildlife along the way. Some things never change. Every time I spotted something, Chasmyn saw it too. I marveled at that.
Most long trips for me go like this, "Look, a hawk! Oh. You missed it. Look, a cow! Oh, you missed it. Bunnies! You missed them." etc. With Chasmyn, I'd say "hawk!" and she'd say, "I see it!" It was fun! So we whiled away the miles, doing all the neat road trip stuff. We visited a rest stop to stare at the map. The bathroom had auto-flush toilets and an
automatic sink. Whoa! All you had to do was soap up, the sink did the rest. It rinsed your hands with warm water, and dried them too. (warm water in a Missouri rest stop???) I felt like I'd stepped into a science-fiction novel.
We finally get to Perryville, which had neither gun racks, nor a little red schoolhouse. It had a Wal-Mart instead. It also had a new looking community center, a beautiful retirement community and a welcoming feel. When I think rural - I think Carbondale. This place was as far from Carbondale as could be. The last of my reservations with Chasmyn moving to rural Minnesota vanished in Perryville. If most of rural America is like Perryville, move me there!
The processing plant was outside of town, and it wasn't what I'd expected either. It reeked, yes; but the place was nice. I had expected a gore-splattered butcher and a bunch of frightened animals, or a tiny little shack as a front for the meat that was discreetly murdered elsewhere. What we found was a pleasant small business and a nice guy in tight jeans. I mean 1980's tight jeans. I wondered if he had plans for reproducing, because his nuts sure weren't making viable sperm in those Levi's. The funny thing is, I didn't notice a thing until he turned around. My ever observant eyes spotted the worn mark of a chew canister on the right pocket. The left pocket was not as worn as the right, but both sides would eventually match. The left pocket now held the chew. It's amazing, the things you can tell from looking at a man's backside. I could tell that he never carried a wallet there, but he'd only just recently switched chew-holding sides. From the way he walked, he was comfortable with the canister in either pocket. Nice butt, by the way. I would have been all over him in the 80's. (Ooh, I just had a thought. I've been assuming it was chew... it could have been a round tin of mints, or even hand balm. Gasp! Assumptions are bad things)
Anyway, He loaded 300 lbs of meat into the trunk for us and my, what a wonderful sight that was! Mmmm, meat. He asked if we wanted the heart, liver or tongue. Chasmyn and I both paused, lost in our own thoughts. I don't know what she was thinking, but I was weighing waste vs. getting my family to eat unusual cow bits. I decided, yes, I did want the tongue and heart. Chasmyn took the liver, somebody might want it. I've never had tongue before. The Joy Of Cooking tells how to prepare it, so I'm gonna cook it up and take it to Grandma. Kudos to Chasmyn for the idea!
On the way back to St. Louis, I saw the strangest (for me) sight. I'd been looking at wildlife in the fields we passed, and I saw a cat! In the next field I saw another cat! It's not that I didn't think cats lived on farms, I've just never seen one in a field before.
So there it is. My adventure in Perryville; complete with tight jeans, kitty cats and cow tongue.
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