Lilo and I are leaving for Wisconsin Monday morning. My sister is graduating high school on Thursday evening, and I promised her a long time ago that I'd be there. So, the pickle and I are packing up the car and going.
Donald can't come because he's too chicken to ask for the time off at work :o) Needless to say, I'm not overly thrilled about driving 800 miles alone with Lil, but we'll survive. We're taking our time, staying over night in St. Louis on the way up.
I'm not sure when we'll be coming home, probably in a week or two, depending on how soon I get sick of my family and how much school work I have. I'm really excited about seeing my sister, though, and I've gotten her the best graduation gift (can't tell you, I think she reads this, hehe). I'm hoping she has some days off work to go thrifing with me (hint, hint). So anyways, we'll be back in a few weeks with lots of new pictures!!
Friday, June 02, 2006
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
One of the best Pro-Choice Essays I've read in a while
The Rights Of the Born
By Anne Lamott, ANNE LAMOTT is a novelist and essayist. Her most recent book is "Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith" (Riverhead, 2005).
February 10, 2006
EVERYTHING WAS going swimmingly on the panel. The subject was politics and faith, and I was on stage with two clergymen with progressive spiritual leanings, and a moderator who is liberal and Catholic. We were having a discussion with the audience of 1,300 people in Washington about many of the social justice topics on which we agree the immorality of the federal budget, the wrongness of the president's war in Iraq. Then an older man came to the mike and raised the issue of abortion, and everyone just lost his or her mind.
Or, at any rate, I did.
Maybe it was the way in which the man couched the question, which was about how we should reconcile our progressive stances on peace and justice with the "murder of a million babies every year in America." The man who asked the question was soft-spoken, neatly and casually dressed.
First Richard, a Franciscan priest, answered that this is indeed a painful issue but that it is not the only "pro-life" issue that progressives even Catholics should concern themselves with during elections. There are also the matters of capital punishment and the war in Iraq, and of HIV. Then Jim, an evangelical, spoke about the need to reduce the number of unwanted pregnancies, and the need to diffuse abortion as a political issue, by welcoming pro-choice and pro-life supporters to the discussion, with equal respect for their positions. He spoke gently about how "morally ambiguous" the issue is.
I sat there simmering, like a samovar; nice Jesusy me. The moderator turned to me and asked quietly if I would like to respond. I did: I wanted to respond by pushing over our table.
Instead, I shook my head. I love and respect the Franciscan and the evangelical, and agree with them 90-plus percent of the time. So I did not say anything, at first.
Then, when I was asked to answer the next question, I paused, and returned to the topic of abortion. There was a loud buzzing in my head, the voice of reason that says, "You have the right to remain silent," but the voice of my conscience was insistent. I wanted to express calmly, eloquently, that pro-choice people understand that there are two lives involved in an abortion one born (the pregnant woman) and one not (the fetus) but that the born person must be allowed to decide what is right.
Also, I wanted to wave a gun around, to show what a real murder looks like. This tipped me off that I should hold my tongue, until further notice. And I tried.
But then I announced that I needed to speak out on behalf of the many women present in the crowd, including myself, who had had abortions, and the women whose daughters might need one in the not-too-distant future people who must know that teenage girls will have abortions, whether in clinics or dirty backrooms. Women whose lives had been righted and redeemed by Roe vs. Wade. My answer was met with some applause but mostly a shocked silence.
Pall is a good word. And it did not feel good to be the cause of that pall. I knew what I was supposed to have said, as a progressive Christian: that it's all very complicated and painful, and that Jim was right in saying that the abortion rate in America is way too high for a caring and compassionate society.
But I did the only thing I could think to do: plunge on, and tell my truth. I said that this is the most intimate decision a woman makes, and she makes it all alone, in her deepest heart of hearts, sometimes with the man by whom she is pregnant, with her dearest friends or with her doctor but without the personal opinion of say, Tom DeLay or Karl Rove.
I said I could not believe that men committed to equality and civil rights were still challenging the basic rights of women. I thought about all the photo-ops at which President Bush had signed legislation limiting abortion rights, surrounded by 10 or so white, self-righteous married men, who have forced God knows how many girlfriends into doing God knows what. I thought of the time Bush appeared on stage with children born from frozen embryos, children he calls "snowflake babies," and of the embryos themselves, which he calls the youngest and most vulnerable Americans.
And somehow, as I was answering, I got louder and maybe even more emphatic than I actually felt, and said it was not a morally ambiguous issue for me at all. I said that fetuses are not babies yet; that there was actually a real difference between pro-abortion people, like me, and Klaus Barbie.
Then I said that a woman's right to choose was nobody else's goddamn business. This got their attention.
A cloud of misery fell over the room, and the stage. Finally, Jim said something unifying enough for us to proceed that liberals must not treat people with opposing opinions on abortion with contempt and exclusion, partly because it's tough material, and partly because it is so critical that we win these next big elections.
It was not until the reception that I finally realized part of the problem no one had told me that the crowd was made up largely of Catholics.
I had flown in at dawn on a red-eye, and, in my exhaustion, had somehow missed this one tiny bit of information. I was mortified: I had to eat my body weight in chocolate just to calm myself.
But then I asked myself: Would I, should I, have given a calmer answer? Wouldn't it have been more useful and harder to dismiss me if I had sounded more reasonable, less what is the word spewy?
Maybe I could have presented my position in a less strident, divisive manner. But the questioner's use of the words "murder" and "babies" had put me on the defensive. Plus I am so confused about why we are still having to argue with patriarchal sentimentality about teeny weenie so-called babies some microscopic, some no bigger than the sea monkeys we used to send away for when real, live, already born women, many of them desperately poor, get such short shrift from the current administration.
Most women like me would much rather use our time and energy fighting to make the world safe and just and fair for the children we do have, and do love and for the children of New Orleans and the children of Darfur. I am old and tired and menopausal and would mostly like to be left alone: I have had my abortions, and I have had a child.
But as a Christian and a feminist, the most important message I can carry and fight for is the sacredness of each human life, and reproductive rights for all women is a crucial part of that: It is a moral necessity that we not be forced to bring children into the world for whom we cannot be responsible and adoring and present. We must not inflict life on children who will be resented; we must not inflict unwanted children on society.
During the reception, an old woman came up to me, and said, "If you hadn't spoken out, I would have spit," and then she raised her fist in the power salute. We huddled together for awhile, and ate M&Ms to give us strength. It was a kind of communion, for those of us who still believe that civil rights and equality and even common sense will somehow be sovereign, some day
By Anne Lamott, ANNE LAMOTT is a novelist and essayist. Her most recent book is "Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith" (Riverhead, 2005).
February 10, 2006
EVERYTHING WAS going swimmingly on the panel. The subject was politics and faith, and I was on stage with two clergymen with progressive spiritual leanings, and a moderator who is liberal and Catholic. We were having a discussion with the audience of 1,300 people in Washington about many of the social justice topics on which we agree the immorality of the federal budget, the wrongness of the president's war in Iraq. Then an older man came to the mike and raised the issue of abortion, and everyone just lost his or her mind.
Or, at any rate, I did.
Maybe it was the way in which the man couched the question, which was about how we should reconcile our progressive stances on peace and justice with the "murder of a million babies every year in America." The man who asked the question was soft-spoken, neatly and casually dressed.
First Richard, a Franciscan priest, answered that this is indeed a painful issue but that it is not the only "pro-life" issue that progressives even Catholics should concern themselves with during elections. There are also the matters of capital punishment and the war in Iraq, and of HIV. Then Jim, an evangelical, spoke about the need to reduce the number of unwanted pregnancies, and the need to diffuse abortion as a political issue, by welcoming pro-choice and pro-life supporters to the discussion, with equal respect for their positions. He spoke gently about how "morally ambiguous" the issue is.
I sat there simmering, like a samovar; nice Jesusy me. The moderator turned to me and asked quietly if I would like to respond. I did: I wanted to respond by pushing over our table.
Instead, I shook my head. I love and respect the Franciscan and the evangelical, and agree with them 90-plus percent of the time. So I did not say anything, at first.
Then, when I was asked to answer the next question, I paused, and returned to the topic of abortion. There was a loud buzzing in my head, the voice of reason that says, "You have the right to remain silent," but the voice of my conscience was insistent. I wanted to express calmly, eloquently, that pro-choice people understand that there are two lives involved in an abortion one born (the pregnant woman) and one not (the fetus) but that the born person must be allowed to decide what is right.
Also, I wanted to wave a gun around, to show what a real murder looks like. This tipped me off that I should hold my tongue, until further notice. And I tried.
But then I announced that I needed to speak out on behalf of the many women present in the crowd, including myself, who had had abortions, and the women whose daughters might need one in the not-too-distant future people who must know that teenage girls will have abortions, whether in clinics or dirty backrooms. Women whose lives had been righted and redeemed by Roe vs. Wade. My answer was met with some applause but mostly a shocked silence.
Pall is a good word. And it did not feel good to be the cause of that pall. I knew what I was supposed to have said, as a progressive Christian: that it's all very complicated and painful, and that Jim was right in saying that the abortion rate in America is way too high for a caring and compassionate society.
But I did the only thing I could think to do: plunge on, and tell my truth. I said that this is the most intimate decision a woman makes, and she makes it all alone, in her deepest heart of hearts, sometimes with the man by whom she is pregnant, with her dearest friends or with her doctor but without the personal opinion of say, Tom DeLay or Karl Rove.
I said I could not believe that men committed to equality and civil rights were still challenging the basic rights of women. I thought about all the photo-ops at which President Bush had signed legislation limiting abortion rights, surrounded by 10 or so white, self-righteous married men, who have forced God knows how many girlfriends into doing God knows what. I thought of the time Bush appeared on stage with children born from frozen embryos, children he calls "snowflake babies," and of the embryos themselves, which he calls the youngest and most vulnerable Americans.
And somehow, as I was answering, I got louder and maybe even more emphatic than I actually felt, and said it was not a morally ambiguous issue for me at all. I said that fetuses are not babies yet; that there was actually a real difference between pro-abortion people, like me, and Klaus Barbie.
Then I said that a woman's right to choose was nobody else's goddamn business. This got their attention.
A cloud of misery fell over the room, and the stage. Finally, Jim said something unifying enough for us to proceed that liberals must not treat people with opposing opinions on abortion with contempt and exclusion, partly because it's tough material, and partly because it is so critical that we win these next big elections.
It was not until the reception that I finally realized part of the problem no one had told me that the crowd was made up largely of Catholics.
I had flown in at dawn on a red-eye, and, in my exhaustion, had somehow missed this one tiny bit of information. I was mortified: I had to eat my body weight in chocolate just to calm myself.
But then I asked myself: Would I, should I, have given a calmer answer? Wouldn't it have been more useful and harder to dismiss me if I had sounded more reasonable, less what is the word spewy?
Maybe I could have presented my position in a less strident, divisive manner. But the questioner's use of the words "murder" and "babies" had put me on the defensive. Plus I am so confused about why we are still having to argue with patriarchal sentimentality about teeny weenie so-called babies some microscopic, some no bigger than the sea monkeys we used to send away for when real, live, already born women, many of them desperately poor, get such short shrift from the current administration.
Most women like me would much rather use our time and energy fighting to make the world safe and just and fair for the children we do have, and do love and for the children of New Orleans and the children of Darfur. I am old and tired and menopausal and would mostly like to be left alone: I have had my abortions, and I have had a child.
But as a Christian and a feminist, the most important message I can carry and fight for is the sacredness of each human life, and reproductive rights for all women is a crucial part of that: It is a moral necessity that we not be forced to bring children into the world for whom we cannot be responsible and adoring and present. We must not inflict life on children who will be resented; we must not inflict unwanted children on society.
During the reception, an old woman came up to me, and said, "If you hadn't spoken out, I would have spit," and then she raised her fist in the power salute. We huddled together for awhile, and ate M&Ms to give us strength. It was a kind of communion, for those of us who still believe that civil rights and equality and even common sense will somehow be sovereign, some day
Saturday, May 13, 2006
Where do you Splurge?
Everyone has things they like to splurge on. Most of the time I buy the cheapest thing I can find, but there are somethings that only one brand will do. Here are the things we like to spend the extra money on in our house. What things are worth the money to you?
~Thomas Bagels. They cost twice as much as other bagels, but they're huge and yummy and soft and oh yeah, yummy.
~The fastest cable internet connection I can find. Yeah, I know you can get dial-up for 10 bucks a month. I'm impatient. I like it fast. Plus I don't have a land line.
~New Balance Tennis Shoes. They're comfy. They last. They go with almost anything. 'Nuff said.
~Pamper's Swaddlers Diapers. They're the only ones I've found that don't leak. Plus I like the velcro tabs.
~Hair cuts/colors. Yeah, I spend $150 getting my hair done once in a while. But I feel soooo nice afterwards.
~DVR Service. Not home to watch Desperate Housewives? Baby crying in the middle of the Kentuky Derby? Pause. Rewind. Play. Awesome.
~Dyson Vacuum. You have not vacuumed your house till you've used one of these. Seriously. You'll be grossed out about how much stuff was actually in your carpet the first time you use it. If you have a pet, it's totally worth every penny.
~Britax Carseat. Mainly because I iked the color, but it's supposedly the safest one on the market. Because safety matters.
And then there are things I'm a cheap ass about. Where do you go cheap-o?
~My cell phone. I always get the free phone that comes with the plan. Because, really, do I need a camera when I'm on the phone?
~My car. I drive a cheap car and I probably always will. I would like to upgrade to something a little bigger in the future, but nothing expensive.
~ Bread. I buy the 88-cent-a-loaf white bread that will probably kill me someday.
~My silverware. Literally every piece of silverware we own has been stolen from a restaurant. I didn't do it. But someone I know very well, did, and he was kind enough to provide.
~Books. I used to buy books all time. Then I realized you can get the for free at the library. And yes, of course I take them back. What are you going to do with them after you read them, anyway?
So, what do you spend money on? What are you a cheap-o on?
~Thomas Bagels. They cost twice as much as other bagels, but they're huge and yummy and soft and oh yeah, yummy.
~The fastest cable internet connection I can find. Yeah, I know you can get dial-up for 10 bucks a month. I'm impatient. I like it fast. Plus I don't have a land line.
~New Balance Tennis Shoes. They're comfy. They last. They go with almost anything. 'Nuff said.
~Pamper's Swaddlers Diapers. They're the only ones I've found that don't leak. Plus I like the velcro tabs.
~Hair cuts/colors. Yeah, I spend $150 getting my hair done once in a while. But I feel soooo nice afterwards.
~DVR Service. Not home to watch Desperate Housewives? Baby crying in the middle of the Kentuky Derby? Pause. Rewind. Play. Awesome.
~Dyson Vacuum. You have not vacuumed your house till you've used one of these. Seriously. You'll be grossed out about how much stuff was actually in your carpet the first time you use it. If you have a pet, it's totally worth every penny.
~Britax Carseat. Mainly because I iked the color, but it's supposedly the safest one on the market. Because safety matters.
And then there are things I'm a cheap ass about. Where do you go cheap-o?
~My cell phone. I always get the free phone that comes with the plan. Because, really, do I need a camera when I'm on the phone?
~My car. I drive a cheap car and I probably always will. I would like to upgrade to something a little bigger in the future, but nothing expensive.
~ Bread. I buy the 88-cent-a-loaf white bread that will probably kill me someday.
~My silverware. Literally every piece of silverware we own has been stolen from a restaurant. I didn't do it. But someone I know very well, did, and he was kind enough to provide.
~Books. I used to buy books all time. Then I realized you can get the for free at the library. And yes, of course I take them back. What are you going to do with them after you read them, anyway?
So, what do you spend money on? What are you a cheap-o on?
Monday, May 08, 2006
My Hunny is so Sweet :o)
Friday morning I was kinda grumpy because we weren't going to be able to anything for my birthday. Donald had to work all weekend and couldn't get out of it, so I was feeling kind of lonely, I guess. Anyway, Friday afternoon there was a knock on my door and it was a guy holding a vase of flowers. Hunny sent me flowers! The first time, EVER, I might add. Donald hates flowers...he thinks they're a waste of money. I guess they are, really...I mean, they just die in a few days, but they're still pretty. When we lived in Wisconsin, there was a gas station that sold flowers for pretty cheap, so on my birthday and Valentine's Day I'd always get Kwik Trip flowers, but never any other kind. We used to always joke about that....
So, yeah...hunny sent me a dozen roses in a pretty vase. And, he got me the new Jewel CD and a CD of the London Theatre Orchestra performing songs from the Phantom of the Opera. AND a cross-stitch pattern of Van Gogh's Starry Night. AND (maybe the best of all) he stayed up with Lilo last night so I could get some sleep, even though he had to be to work early this morning. He's a good hunny....I think I'll keep him :o)
So, yeah...hunny sent me a dozen roses in a pretty vase. And, he got me the new Jewel CD and a CD of the London Theatre Orchestra performing songs from the Phantom of the Opera. AND a cross-stitch pattern of Van Gogh's Starry Night. AND (maybe the best of all) he stayed up with Lilo last night so I could get some sleep, even though he had to be to work early this morning. He's a good hunny....I think I'll keep him :o)
Sunday, May 07, 2006
It's goona be a looong day....
Oh, it is not going to be a good day.
I didn't get to bed last night until 4:30 a.m. Donald worked at the bowling alley last night, and I can never get to sleep until he's home, and he got home reeeeaaally late last night. And, don't you know, the night I stay up late is the night Lilo sleeps for crap. She woke up three times between 4:30 and 7:30 wanting to nurse, two of those times crying. I think she might be going through a growth spurt, but she picked a real bad night to do it! So, 7:45 Lilo woke up again, but this time there was no putting her back to sleep because she was all sweaty and warm. Up we go, and on the way to her bedroom to change her diaper, she puked all over me. Puke on 3 hours of sleep is bad. Now she's playing on her blanket and is all smiles, but I can't wait for her morning nap. Mama needs a a nap, too.
If I don't get some sleep today I'm going to be forced to do some serious shopping therapy. And nobody wants to see that happen.
Updated to Add: She puked again. All over her play mat, all over herself. When I took her to the bedroom to clean her up, I discovered a dirty diaper straight from hades. This resulted in the crib sheets becoming infested with poo, even though I had put down a waterproof pad. 10 wet wipes and a new outfit later, I discovered she had puke in her hair too. Chunky puke. Ahhh.....too many bodily functions too early causes insanity.
I didn't get to bed last night until 4:30 a.m. Donald worked at the bowling alley last night, and I can never get to sleep until he's home, and he got home reeeeaaally late last night. And, don't you know, the night I stay up late is the night Lilo sleeps for crap. She woke up three times between 4:30 and 7:30 wanting to nurse, two of those times crying. I think she might be going through a growth spurt, but she picked a real bad night to do it! So, 7:45 Lilo woke up again, but this time there was no putting her back to sleep because she was all sweaty and warm. Up we go, and on the way to her bedroom to change her diaper, she puked all over me. Puke on 3 hours of sleep is bad. Now she's playing on her blanket and is all smiles, but I can't wait for her morning nap. Mama needs a a nap, too.
If I don't get some sleep today I'm going to be forced to do some serious shopping therapy. And nobody wants to see that happen.
Updated to Add: She puked again. All over her play mat, all over herself. When I took her to the bedroom to clean her up, I discovered a dirty diaper straight from hades. This resulted in the crib sheets becoming infested with poo, even though I had put down a waterproof pad. 10 wet wipes and a new outfit later, I discovered she had puke in her hair too. Chunky puke. Ahhh.....too many bodily functions too early causes insanity.
Friday, May 05, 2006
Guess Jeans
I'm thinking of putting together a collection of short stories from my life, basically just so I have them written down. I was shopping the other day, and was reminded of an incident that took place was I was 12 or 13, and decided to start there. Here's the first installment:
When I was in middle school, all I wanted was a pair of Guess jeans. All of the cool kids had them, and even some of the not-so-cool kids. I begged my mom nearly every day. The only answer I got was, "We can't afford them."
My mom finally reached her breaking point one day while we were doing our annual fall school shopping. I think it was right before the start of 7th grade. We were at Sears, buying sensible clothing that she could afford, when I started in on the Guess jeans routine. Right in the middle of the store, she grabbed me by the arm, led me to Bergner's (the expensive store), and made me pick out a pair of Guess jeans. I didn't know what was going on, but I picked out my jeans and mom paid for them. I don't remember how much they cost, but I'm sure it was more than mom was planning on spending at Sears. After that, we went back to Sears to continue our shopping. Mom picked out some clothes for my brother and sister, and went to check out. I was confused. What about me? I asked mom when we were going to go buy the rest of my clothes for the year. She just looked at me, and then she said, "I could have bought you three pairs of jeans here for what I paid for the one pair that you so desperately needed. So this year, instead of having three pairs of jeans to wear to school, you'll have one. But I'm sure that's fine with you since they are the coolest pants around, right?" Suddenly my jeans weren't so cool.
The reality of having one nice pair of pants to wear to school finally set in around the second week of school, when kids were starting to notice that I kept wearing the same pants every day. I finally caved, and began wearing some of my too-short jeans from the previous year. My mom never said anything to me about it, but I'm sure inside she was shaking her head and saying, "I told you so."
I went to a big, suburban middle school in the best part of the city. We lived in a duplex right in the heart of the good part of town. In our backyard, literally, was the Saxer Mansion. I remember longingly looking out the window and wishing I lived there. Our house wasn't bad, but it wasnt ours. The duplex was the only rental unit on the block. Many of the kids I was so envious of lived just a block away, where the new subdivisions began. They would often ride their bikes past our house and I would wish that I could follow them home. It was as if I was always on the brink of something good, but couldn't quite reach it.
When I was in middle school, all I wanted was a pair of Guess jeans. All of the cool kids had them, and even some of the not-so-cool kids. I begged my mom nearly every day. The only answer I got was, "We can't afford them."
My mom finally reached her breaking point one day while we were doing our annual fall school shopping. I think it was right before the start of 7th grade. We were at Sears, buying sensible clothing that she could afford, when I started in on the Guess jeans routine. Right in the middle of the store, she grabbed me by the arm, led me to Bergner's (the expensive store), and made me pick out a pair of Guess jeans. I didn't know what was going on, but I picked out my jeans and mom paid for them. I don't remember how much they cost, but I'm sure it was more than mom was planning on spending at Sears. After that, we went back to Sears to continue our shopping. Mom picked out some clothes for my brother and sister, and went to check out. I was confused. What about me? I asked mom when we were going to go buy the rest of my clothes for the year. She just looked at me, and then she said, "I could have bought you three pairs of jeans here for what I paid for the one pair that you so desperately needed. So this year, instead of having three pairs of jeans to wear to school, you'll have one. But I'm sure that's fine with you since they are the coolest pants around, right?" Suddenly my jeans weren't so cool.
The reality of having one nice pair of pants to wear to school finally set in around the second week of school, when kids were starting to notice that I kept wearing the same pants every day. I finally caved, and began wearing some of my too-short jeans from the previous year. My mom never said anything to me about it, but I'm sure inside she was shaking her head and saying, "I told you so."
I went to a big, suburban middle school in the best part of the city. We lived in a duplex right in the heart of the good part of town. In our backyard, literally, was the Saxer Mansion. I remember longingly looking out the window and wishing I lived there. Our house wasn't bad, but it wasnt ours. The duplex was the only rental unit on the block. Many of the kids I was so envious of lived just a block away, where the new subdivisions began. They would often ride their bikes past our house and I would wish that I could follow them home. It was as if I was always on the brink of something good, but couldn't quite reach it.
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Grrrr.....
There's this commercial here for some ghetto cell phone company that annoys the crap out of me. Picture this: a blue screen with a cell phone in the middle and the only sound the comercial has is the most annoying factory ringtone that exists. That's all there is, a cell phone, some text, and the ringing. This goes on for a full 30 seconds. Everytime the commerical comes on, it wakes up Lilo. Grrrr.....
30 second commercial spots are expensive. I don't know who thought this commercial was worth that much money, but whoever it was must have been on crack.
30 second commercial spots are expensive. I don't know who thought this commercial was worth that much money, but whoever it was must have been on crack.
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
School Again
Wow, yeah....so I'm going back to school for my Masters in Education. I never really intended to stop with my bachelors, but when I got pregnant with Lilo I kinda figured that was the end of school. Actually, that was fine with me, because by the time I'd finished in Madison, I was so sick of college that I never wanted to see the inside of a classroom again. And now, while I'm really enjoying staying at home with the babe, I know that someday I'm going to want to get a job and earn some cash so she can go to college someday. And, let's just face it, not many companies are eager to hire someone with a degree in history. Yeah, I can read, I can write, and I can analyze texts, but so freaking what. Soooo...I need something else.
When I was a kid, I always wanted to be a teacher. My parents, however, thought that being a teacher was a waste, and that I should go on to do something that would make me lots of money. You know, like doctor or lawyer....and my mom is *still* on me to be a nurse. Seriously, I called her and told her I was going back to school for education and she tried to talk me into going to nursing school instead. Yick. I admire all you nurses out there....I couldn't do it. Yick, yick, double yick. I digress. Anyway.
I'm doing my degree online at Western Governors University. I'm always kinda skeptical about these online universities...I'm always reminded of those mail order degrees you see on TV. Anyway, I've really researched this one and it is legit and accredited, and even applauded by many reputable organizations, like Google and Dell. Most of the program is done online (duh), but I will have to student teach for 4 months, as well as travel to Utah to defend my thesis and do oral comps. Which scares the bejesus out of me, but I'll cross that bridge when I get to it, I guess.
Anyway, 2-3 years from now I might have another degree. Or, knowing me, it could be six years. Heh. Either way, I start in a week.
When I was a kid, I always wanted to be a teacher. My parents, however, thought that being a teacher was a waste, and that I should go on to do something that would make me lots of money. You know, like doctor or lawyer....and my mom is *still* on me to be a nurse. Seriously, I called her and told her I was going back to school for education and she tried to talk me into going to nursing school instead. Yick. I admire all you nurses out there....I couldn't do it. Yick, yick, double yick. I digress. Anyway.
I'm doing my degree online at Western Governors University. I'm always kinda skeptical about these online universities...I'm always reminded of those mail order degrees you see on TV. Anyway, I've really researched this one and it is legit and accredited, and even applauded by many reputable organizations, like Google and Dell. Most of the program is done online (duh), but I will have to student teach for 4 months, as well as travel to Utah to defend my thesis and do oral comps. Which scares the bejesus out of me, but I'll cross that bridge when I get to it, I guess.
Anyway, 2-3 years from now I might have another degree. Or, knowing me, it could be six years. Heh. Either way, I start in a week.
Friday, April 14, 2006
My Favorite Easter Memory
During Spring Break my freshman year of high school, my dad and I went to Mississippi to visit my great Aunt Sandy. Aunt Sandy lived way out in the sticks, and going to her house was always fun for me because I had always lived in the city. I looked forward to visiting her because it seemed like there were always people around and other kids for me to play with. Spring Break was of course over Easter, which is why I happened to remember this particular incident today. It is my favorite Easter memory, however twisted that may be.
Aunt Sandy lived in what I would call a shack. It was what my dad calls a shotgun house: if you shot through the front door, the shot would go straight out the back door. Id never heard of such a thing; Im convinced it is a *southern thing*. I think there were about ten people staying in her little house for the week. Three of Aunt Sandys kids had come to visit: Mitch, along with his two daughters, Connie, with her two sons, and Merlene, a daughter she had given up for adoption and had recently been reunited with, as well as Merlenes daughter, Candy. Gary, another of Aunt Sandys kids lived across the road. All of us kids slept in one room, camped out on the bunk beds and the floor. The adults got the living room. It was a whole lot of fun with everyone being together.
Easter morning I woke up early. I could hear the adults all talking at the dining room table, and being the curious teenager that I was, I listened in. At the dining room table was Aunt Sandy, her four kids (Gary, Merlene, Connie, and Mitch) and my dad. The next thing I hear coming from Garys mouth is, I want to tell you all something. Im in love with my sister (Merlene).
Ooookay. Yeah. I wish you could have heard everyones reaction. Ill sure never forget it. There was a whole lot of swearing and a whole lot of drinking to follow (yes, on Easter morning). I guess its not completely as bad as it sounds. The first time Gary had met Merlene was, in fact, earlier that week, so its not like they grew up together. And, they did have different dads. But still. Yuck.
Gary and Merlene actually ended up getting married in Gatlinburg a year or so later. They were together until Gary died of a cocaine overdose in 2002. Merlene went on and married a preacher and lives in Tupelo now, I think. Yeah, I get the irony.
I tell this story much better in person. Its a great story to tell at a bar; somehow its even funnier when alcohol is involved. I dont remember what we did the rest of that Easter, but I will never forget that morning. It is my favorite Easter memory.
Aunt Sandy lived in what I would call a shack. It was what my dad calls a shotgun house: if you shot through the front door, the shot would go straight out the back door. Id never heard of such a thing; Im convinced it is a *southern thing*. I think there were about ten people staying in her little house for the week. Three of Aunt Sandys kids had come to visit: Mitch, along with his two daughters, Connie, with her two sons, and Merlene, a daughter she had given up for adoption and had recently been reunited with, as well as Merlenes daughter, Candy. Gary, another of Aunt Sandys kids lived across the road. All of us kids slept in one room, camped out on the bunk beds and the floor. The adults got the living room. It was a whole lot of fun with everyone being together.
Easter morning I woke up early. I could hear the adults all talking at the dining room table, and being the curious teenager that I was, I listened in. At the dining room table was Aunt Sandy, her four kids (Gary, Merlene, Connie, and Mitch) and my dad. The next thing I hear coming from Garys mouth is, I want to tell you all something. Im in love with my sister (Merlene).
Ooookay. Yeah. I wish you could have heard everyones reaction. Ill sure never forget it. There was a whole lot of swearing and a whole lot of drinking to follow (yes, on Easter morning). I guess its not completely as bad as it sounds. The first time Gary had met Merlene was, in fact, earlier that week, so its not like they grew up together. And, they did have different dads. But still. Yuck.
Gary and Merlene actually ended up getting married in Gatlinburg a year or so later. They were together until Gary died of a cocaine overdose in 2002. Merlene went on and married a preacher and lives in Tupelo now, I think. Yeah, I get the irony.
I tell this story much better in person. Its a great story to tell at a bar; somehow its even funnier when alcohol is involved. I dont remember what we did the rest of that Easter, but I will never forget that morning. It is my favorite Easter memory.
Monday, April 03, 2006
Nothing too much
Donald finally got a full-time job *whew*. I was starting to panic...the balance in our savings account was getting sadly low. So he's working at Dyatech
doing some accounting crap that goes WAY over my head. Whatever...it pays the bills :o) He's going to keep working at his beloved bowling alley, too...plus he's looking for a third shift job. You'd think he *likes* working or something. Nah, we're just trying to pay off some bills so we can buy a house.
Why didn't anyone tell me that Sonic's limeades were so freakin' good? I've been going to Sonic for years and years and had never tried a limeade till the other day. And now I'm hooked. Lilo and I go the park everyday, and on our way home we stop at Sonic. Evil I tell you.
Speaking of Lilo, she has a doctor's appointment tomorrow for her shots. *tear* I think it will be more traumatic for me than her. Her pediatrician is in Hattiesburg, and Donald wants to go for Mexican when we're done at the doc, but I have a feeling lil Lilo is going to be too cranky to hush in a restaraunt. We shall see.
doing some accounting crap that goes WAY over my head. Whatever...it pays the bills :o) He's going to keep working at his beloved bowling alley, too...plus he's looking for a third shift job. You'd think he *likes* working or something. Nah, we're just trying to pay off some bills so we can buy a house.
Why didn't anyone tell me that Sonic's limeades were so freakin' good? I've been going to Sonic for years and years and had never tried a limeade till the other day. And now I'm hooked. Lilo and I go the park everyday, and on our way home we stop at Sonic. Evil I tell you.
Speaking of Lilo, she has a doctor's appointment tomorrow for her shots. *tear* I think it will be more traumatic for me than her. Her pediatrician is in Hattiesburg, and Donald wants to go for Mexican when we're done at the doc, but I have a feeling lil Lilo is going to be too cranky to hush in a restaraunt. We shall see.
Sunday, March 26, 2006
Sometimes I Hate Mississippi
I'm really upset right now. I found out that it is going to cost nearly $2500 to license my car in Mississippi. EVERY YEAR. Are you freaking crazy?!? That's almost as much as Donald makes in a month -- there is no way we can afford to spend a month's income putting a sticker on just MY car. There's seriously something wrong here.
Here's how car licensing fees are figured: it's 30% of the blue book value of your car plus whatever the county wants to charge. I drive a 2001 Ford Focus that's worth about $8000. 30% of $8000 is $2400. You've got to be kidding me.
I get that states need to charge taxes to make money, yada yada yada. But come on now. I know Mississippi is not the richest state out there, but charging that kind of money to license a car is ridiculous. In Wisconsin it costs $55 a year, period. How does this state expect its citizens to ever get ahead when the average annual income is about $20,000 and then charges over 15% of that just to legally drive your car???
Charging that kind of money to license a car just doesn't make sense. I guess I could see charging a percentage on luxury vehicles. I mean, really, who NEEDS a car worth $40,000? If you've got that kind of money to spend on a car, then I'd guess you've got the money to pay high taxes on it. But for average, everyday people like me and my family, charging those kind of amounts only hurts us. With my car payment, insurance, gas and the liceensing fees, it costs $635 a month to drive my car. I don't even want to think about how much it will be when I add in Donald's car. That's more than we pay in rent each month.
If there was an alternative to owning a car in Mississippi, I'd consider it. But there's not. No car = no job = no money. There's no public transportation system here. So really, this state's gotcha by the balls. That is, unless you want to drive a $500 piece of shit rust bucket that MIGHT get you where you want to go. I don't get it. I really, really, don't get it. It makes me want to move.
Here's how car licensing fees are figured: it's 30% of the blue book value of your car plus whatever the county wants to charge. I drive a 2001 Ford Focus that's worth about $8000. 30% of $8000 is $2400. You've got to be kidding me.
I get that states need to charge taxes to make money, yada yada yada. But come on now. I know Mississippi is not the richest state out there, but charging that kind of money to license a car is ridiculous. In Wisconsin it costs $55 a year, period. How does this state expect its citizens to ever get ahead when the average annual income is about $20,000 and then charges over 15% of that just to legally drive your car???
Charging that kind of money to license a car just doesn't make sense. I guess I could see charging a percentage on luxury vehicles. I mean, really, who NEEDS a car worth $40,000? If you've got that kind of money to spend on a car, then I'd guess you've got the money to pay high taxes on it. But for average, everyday people like me and my family, charging those kind of amounts only hurts us. With my car payment, insurance, gas and the liceensing fees, it costs $635 a month to drive my car. I don't even want to think about how much it will be when I add in Donald's car. That's more than we pay in rent each month.
If there was an alternative to owning a car in Mississippi, I'd consider it. But there's not. No car = no job = no money. There's no public transportation system here. So really, this state's gotcha by the balls. That is, unless you want to drive a $500 piece of shit rust bucket that MIGHT get you where you want to go. I don't get it. I really, really, don't get it. It makes me want to move.
Friday, March 17, 2006
When the girl cries, I can't think. About anything. The girl cries a lot. I've never had a baby before, so I don't know how much babies are supposed to cry, but this girl definately knows how to use her lungs. This situation leaves me braindead much of the time. I go to Target, list prepapred, Lauren in tow, ready to conquer the store, yet I fumble around like a madwoman, talking to myself all the while, trying desperately to first find my list, then remember where things are located in the store, and then trying to remember what I've already shopped for so I can mark them off the list. I'm a disaster.
I've come to the conclusion that it is a pretty good thing that I get to stay home with the girl. I don't think I'd have the mental capacity to do anything else that was remotely meaningful. I'd crack. I contemplated subbing a few days a week just to make some extra cash, but I really don't think I could do it. The first teenage jackass that opened his mouth would feel the wrath of an overtired mother who hears screaming in her head, even when the girl is sleeping.
I've come to the conclusion that it is a pretty good thing that I get to stay home with the girl. I don't think I'd have the mental capacity to do anything else that was remotely meaningful. I'd crack. I contemplated subbing a few days a week just to make some extra cash, but I really don't think I could do it. The first teenage jackass that opened his mouth would feel the wrath of an overtired mother who hears screaming in her head, even when the girl is sleeping.
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
Notes
We're finally (almost) settled in to our new place. The apartment is fine, expect that there is a funky smell in one of the bathrooms that I can't seem to pinpoint. Other than that, I'm pretty happy with the place. Donald did a great job moving us...I can't take much of the credit because he did 90% of the work. Sure, I hung the curtains and unpacked the kitchen, but that's about it. I don't know what I'd do without that man!
Lauren is doing well. We've taking to calling her Lilo; I'm not sure why. She's getting so big! She's so good when we go to the store; she especially likes Target -- can't say I blame her! We've decorated her room with my frog collection. It sure is cute! Donald has to go to Lowe's tomorrow to get a few shelves, but then her room will be finished. I hope she likes frogs when she gets older!
Well, I'm off to bed. It's been a long day, but I just wanted to update.
Lauren is doing well. We've taking to calling her Lilo; I'm not sure why. She's getting so big! She's so good when we go to the store; she especially likes Target -- can't say I blame her! We've decorated her room with my frog collection. It sure is cute! Donald has to go to Lowe's tomorrow to get a few shelves, but then her room will be finished. I hope she likes frogs when she gets older!
Well, I'm off to bed. It's been a long day, but I just wanted to update.
Friday, February 24, 2006
And so it begins....
And so begins my weekend of hell. In two hours, we are leaving for Jackson to sign our lease and move the first load of crap into the apartment. Then, we are making one mega grocery shopping trip, eating dinner, and heading back to Hattiesburg for the night. Bright and early tomorrow morning, we're picking up the U-Haul, then going to my dad's house to get furniture from his garage, then to dad's storage unit to get the sofa, chair, and piano, THEN to our storage unit to get the rest of our stuff, and finally, back to Jackson. All of this, mind you, with a six-week old and two cats in tow. *Sigh*
Our internet is being hooked up by Time Warner Cable on Monday evening, so expect me back then. Toodles for now....wish me luck.
Our internet is being hooked up by Time Warner Cable on Monday evening, so expect me back then. Toodles for now....wish me luck.
Saturday, February 18, 2006
Have You Ever...
Place an X by all the things you've done, or remove the x from the ones you have not. This is for your entire life:
(X) Smoked a cigarette
(X) Drank so much you threw up
( ) Crashed a friend's car
( ) Stolen a car
(X) Been in love
(X) Been dumped.
( ) Been laid off/fired
(X) Quit your job!
( ) Been in a fist fight
(X) Snuck out of your parent's house
(X) Had feelings for someone who didn't have them back
( ) Been arrested?
( ) Gone on a blind date
(X) Lied to a friend
(X) Skipped school
(X) Seen someone die
( ) Been to Canada
( ) Been to Mexico
(X) Been on a plane
(X) Been lost
(X) Been on the opposite side of the country
(X) Gone to Washington, DC
(X) Swam in the ocean
(X) Felt like dying
(X) Cried yourself to sleep
( ) Played cops and robbers
(X) Recently colored with crayons
(X) Sang karaoke
(X) Paid for a meal with only coins...
(X) Done something you told yourself you wouldn't?
(X) Made prank phone calls...
(X) Laughed until some kind of beverage came out of your nose
(X) Caught a snowflake on your tongue.
(X) Danced in the rain
(X) Written a letter to Santa Claus
( ) Been kissed under the mistletoe
(X) Watched the sun rise with someone you care about
(X) Blown bubbles
(X) Made a bonfire on the beach
( ) Crashed a party
(X) Gone roller-skating
(X) Ice-skating....
(X) Smoked a cigarette
(X) Drank so much you threw up
( ) Crashed a friend's car
( ) Stolen a car
(X) Been in love
(X) Been dumped.
( ) Been laid off/fired
(X) Quit your job!
( ) Been in a fist fight
(X) Snuck out of your parent's house
(X) Had feelings for someone who didn't have them back
( ) Been arrested?
( ) Gone on a blind date
(X) Lied to a friend
(X) Skipped school
(X) Seen someone die
( ) Been to Canada
( ) Been to Mexico
(X) Been on a plane
(X) Been lost
(X) Been on the opposite side of the country
(X) Gone to Washington, DC
(X) Swam in the ocean
(X) Felt like dying
(X) Cried yourself to sleep
( ) Played cops and robbers
(X) Recently colored with crayons
(X) Sang karaoke
(X) Paid for a meal with only coins...
(X) Done something you told yourself you wouldn't?
(X) Made prank phone calls...
(X) Laughed until some kind of beverage came out of your nose
(X) Caught a snowflake on your tongue.
(X) Danced in the rain
(X) Written a letter to Santa Claus
( ) Been kissed under the mistletoe
(X) Watched the sun rise with someone you care about
(X) Blown bubbles
(X) Made a bonfire on the beach
( ) Crashed a party
(X) Gone roller-skating
(X) Ice-skating....
Friday, February 17, 2006
Unknown Housing
Next Friday, I'm moving into an apartment I've never seen. I'm very frightened by this.
Donald and I moved to Hattiesburg the week before Katrina. Yep, bad timing, I know. That's been happening a lot lately, but that's another story completely. Anyway...we've been staying with a few fairies for the past six months because Dad's house was completely destroyed by the storm. We tried desperately to find housing in Hattiesburg, but it seems more than a few people's homes were destroyed, so no apartments have been available. We looked at a duplex a few weeks ago, but it was completely disgusting and way overpriced. So....we decided to move to Jackson.
I like Jackson; there are parks and museums and a few normal people. But...I don't know Jackson very well. We looked at quite a few places, but none had everything we wanted for the price we wanted. We finally found two complexes that were in our price range that had the amenities we needed. Apartment A was big, clean, had brand new kitchen appliances....but the complex itself was kinda ghetto. Plus it didn't have a washer/dryer connection. Apartment B had everything we wanted, plus the grounds were clean and it is in a good part of town (or so I hear). But...they didn't have any units available for us to view. So...we signed the lease anyway. Next weekend we move in. This might be the craziest thing I've ever done. Oh yeah...right next to moving to the coast during hurricane. That was fun.
Donald and I moved to Hattiesburg the week before Katrina. Yep, bad timing, I know. That's been happening a lot lately, but that's another story completely. Anyway...we've been staying with a few fairies for the past six months because Dad's house was completely destroyed by the storm. We tried desperately to find housing in Hattiesburg, but it seems more than a few people's homes were destroyed, so no apartments have been available. We looked at a duplex a few weeks ago, but it was completely disgusting and way overpriced. So....we decided to move to Jackson.
I like Jackson; there are parks and museums and a few normal people. But...I don't know Jackson very well. We looked at quite a few places, but none had everything we wanted for the price we wanted. We finally found two complexes that were in our price range that had the amenities we needed. Apartment A was big, clean, had brand new kitchen appliances....but the complex itself was kinda ghetto. Plus it didn't have a washer/dryer connection. Apartment B had everything we wanted, plus the grounds were clean and it is in a good part of town (or so I hear). But...they didn't have any units available for us to view. So...we signed the lease anyway. Next weekend we move in. This might be the craziest thing I've ever done. Oh yeah...right next to moving to the coast during hurricane. That was fun.
Saturday, February 04, 2006
Forgive me
I've been thinking a lot lately about people who I've not treated as well as I should, as well as those people who have not treated me well. For some reason, I feel an overwhelming sense of shame and guilt about the wrongdoings I've committed in the past. I find myself thinking about these people, and wondering how I can make it right...and then realizing: the past cannot be changed.
The one person I feel most badly about is Brian. God, I treated him like shit without even realizing it. Looking back, I can see that he loved me more than anything and I didn't recognize or appreciate it. Sure, I loved him, but I took it for granted...a mistake I hope to never make again. He's married now, and I hope he is truly happy and has found what he was looking for. To Brian, I am sincerely sorry and I hope you will someday forgive me.
To Donald: I'm sorry that I didn't realize sooner that everything I was looking for was right in my own backyard. I'm sorry I made you complete an obstacle course before accepting you. You've been my very best friend for so long, I think I started to take you for granted, too. For all of this and more, I'm sorry. I know you have forgiven me along time ago, and for this I am humbled. You mean everything to me.
To Mom: I know now how hard it must have been for you. I know you've always wanted the best for your children but didn't always know how to provide that. Every person has their own struggles in life that they must work through, including you. I'm sorry I didn't realize that sooner. I no longer judge you, but look at you as a fellow cast member of this production called life. I'm sorry for all of the awful things I've said to you. I know we will never agree on some things, but that's okay. Love doesn't rely on complete agreement.
To those who have hurt me: I forgive you. We are all a product of our environments, and I know that many of you acted as a part of that environment. Acceptance and tolerance do not come easy in this world; it is something we each must work at every day. It is very easy to hurt, but much harder to heal. My wounded heart has healed, and will do so again should I be hurt again.
The one person I feel most badly about is Brian. God, I treated him like shit without even realizing it. Looking back, I can see that he loved me more than anything and I didn't recognize or appreciate it. Sure, I loved him, but I took it for granted...a mistake I hope to never make again. He's married now, and I hope he is truly happy and has found what he was looking for. To Brian, I am sincerely sorry and I hope you will someday forgive me.
To Donald: I'm sorry that I didn't realize sooner that everything I was looking for was right in my own backyard. I'm sorry I made you complete an obstacle course before accepting you. You've been my very best friend for so long, I think I started to take you for granted, too. For all of this and more, I'm sorry. I know you have forgiven me along time ago, and for this I am humbled. You mean everything to me.
To Mom: I know now how hard it must have been for you. I know you've always wanted the best for your children but didn't always know how to provide that. Every person has their own struggles in life that they must work through, including you. I'm sorry I didn't realize that sooner. I no longer judge you, but look at you as a fellow cast member of this production called life. I'm sorry for all of the awful things I've said to you. I know we will never agree on some things, but that's okay. Love doesn't rely on complete agreement.
To those who have hurt me: I forgive you. We are all a product of our environments, and I know that many of you acted as a part of that environment. Acceptance and tolerance do not come easy in this world; it is something we each must work at every day. It is very easy to hurt, but much harder to heal. My wounded heart has healed, and will do so again should I be hurt again.
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