Chop Wood, Carry Water

Three Limericks for the end of June, part three

2009-06-27T11:42:00.000-07:00

There once was a mom with anxiety
Who also did not have much piety.
Her colleagues all gashed
When she slandered and bashd
She’ll prob’ly be shunned from society.

Three Limericks for the end of June, part two

2009-06-26T11:41:00.000-07:00

There once was a dad who made beer
He said that it gave him good cheer.
He’s slightly obsessed
With the clean up of mess,
That’s because he is an engineer.

The people in your neighborhood

2009-06-25T17:49:00.000-07:00

When I was a little girl I learned to play Life (The game of Life, you can learn about life when you play the game of life) in Jim and Betty Yunek's living room. They had cool modern furniture and their house always smelled like beer, saurkraut and sausages. It is a smell that I still cherish. sometimes I even cook up some sausages and let saurkraut simmer on the stove when i want to feel nostalgic about a particular time in my life prior to 1977.

We went canoeing alot with Mr. and Mrs. Yunek. They had a yellow canoe and sometimes one of us kids got to sit in the midde of their canoe while the other sat with my parents. I remember one time in particular when we stopped to eat lunch somewhere and Mr. Yunek stood up and said, 'I've got to see a man about a horse" and I was absolutely certain that he was going to go and buy me a horse. He returned a short while later - and there was no horse.

He taught my father, my uncle and my aunt. He taught me and my brother. He scared the shit out of all of us didn't he?

He was the first person to help me be unafraid of dogs. They always had a black lab. The first one I remember with any earnest was Scout, who ended up totally blind. I wasn't afaid of Scout and it is because of that dog that I got my first dog (unsurprisingly a black lab).

Mr. Yunek expected a lot from me. I wanted to do well for him and I worked especially hard in his class. Remember Black Studies? I bugged him incessantly the summer before my junior year to allow me to take that class with the grade above me. I believe he told me to come back when hell freezes over....but in the end he allowed me to take the class. My revisionist history is that I recieved an a (Shelley Olberding might remember me being the ding dong of the class i am not sure).

I never chewed gum in his class.

I loved riding in his yellow truck with the shift on the steering column.

I loved eating his horseradish pickles.

When I was really really little, I remember getting to go to Joel's basketball games. I remember pretending I was going to marry Joel, even though i was probably 4 at the time and he was 18.

Now all of my dad's golfing partners are dead - Bill Meinen, George Colvig, Mac McIlrath and Mr. Yunek.

I loved going to their house to go pee in their turquoise bathroom - the toilet and the sink were turquoise. They also had turquoise soap in the downstairs bathroom (which was either the very exotic coast or the very exotic Irish Spring - we had Ivory).

We had Thanksgiving dinner with them often. I wore my favorite polyester pantsuit once and got to have a Coke with dinner.

Once Betty told my aunt, "Kristin and Scott are like our kids" this was years after I moved out of lake city, but it made me feel connected and protected. It helped in some untangible way and I have never forgotten it.

Three Limericks for the end of June

2009-06-25T11:38:00.000-07:00

There once was a boy named August
Who thought that his name was a bust
His Mother was sad
He was named for her dad,

But he said “call me Augie – you MUST!

In the event that I am not paranoid.....

2009-05-14T01:07:00.000-07:00

It’s quarter of one on a Thursday night. This headache woke me up. Naturally, I am afraid I’m having a stroke.

My mom died of a stroke. May, 1977. She and my dad were at a wedding rehearsal. They were attending because they were the assigned hosts for the wedding reception the following day. She came home with a headache, which, according to my dad (when you can coax the story out of him), became quite intense. She started vomiting and told Dad that she thought she was having a stroke. Appropriately, he thought she was drunk and told her to come to bed. She kept vomiting. He drove her to the hospital and she threw up in the car which, according to my dad, really upset her. I am sure she wasn’t exactly rational at that moment.

My dad says the last thing she said to him was “take care of the kids”. Then she arrested in the ER. Charlie Comstock, the doctor, did not know what was going on so he revived her with those shock paddles.

“Clear”.

Her heart started beating again. But she was gone.

This is my secret nightmare that occasionally keeps me up at night. I haven’t worried about it for a long, long time. I passed the age she had the stroke (33), and then the age when my dad stopped intubating her and she died (34). I don’t smoke (my mom loved her Tarryington 100’s). I exercise (she did not exercise; she ate poorly (and little of it); she sat in the sun, smoking cigarettes).

But tonight, I am sitting in my kitchen, convinced that this is the last train from Terrapin Station. My head hurts so much that my entire skull is throbbing. I am remembering earlier tonight when I was sitting on my knees in the kitchen and got up and nearly passed out. I thought it was my husband’s bad cooking. Now I am convinced that it was a blood clot in my leg that has now passed to my brain. I am actually breaking out in a sweat from the pain.

If I am dead in the morning, please tell my children that I lived for them. I loved them more than my life and it is they who I am obsessively thinking about right now. Please help them when they are sad, and confused and depressed and taking their life in their own hands because they have lost themselves. Please hug them a lot like they were your own children.

Please help my husband. He doesn’t know how to balance the checkbook. He will drink too much. He will sweat the small stuff. Remind him to be gentle with himself and with the kids. Remind him gently to make the kids his top priority. Don’t let him get married until the children are in college. Remind him to stay away from insecure Catholic girls who are not yet parents - at all costs. His children will be healthier for it. Please, trust me on this.

I love you bubs.

What is it with anti-intellctualism?

2009-01-26T13:04:00.001-08:00

I asked this exact question, quite innocently, to a former co-cheerleader-nee-sat beside her in high school choir - nee- went to Iowa with her - nee- excessively drank with her - nee - lost touch with her for 17 years - nee - reconnected on facebook with her - realize we are both forty and don't drink anymore (okok SHE doesn't drink at all -i binge drink twice a year - that's about the same right?) and both run when she said that her father was an anti-intellectual .....

She had a lot to say.

I don't know what the deal is with anti-intellectualism. Honestly, all I can think of is that people without an education assume people with an education are looking down on them. They don't like the idea that more educated people know better than they what should be done with their lives and money. They live in the "real" world god damnit. What do those snobby intellectuals know about the real world?

Couple that attitude with an entire political party sitting on their shoulders whispering in their collective ears, "They think you're stupid. They think you can't be trusted with your own money 'cuz you'll blow it. They think you need to be taken care of. We don't think that. Belch belch glug glug. We're just like you. The common man. We know you can take care of yourself. Fuck those liberals. They just want to give all your hard earned money to people who don't want to work. You know who I'm talkin' about."

They pray on their ignorance, insecurities and prejudices and the dumbasses fall for it every stinking time. To the religious fundamentalists they say, "they all want to kill your babies and take away the sanctity of marriage. The gays will have the same rights as you and the whole world will go to hell in a handbasket!!" After the election they bend over the working class and fundamentalists, ram it up their rear without a good reach around and start all over the next election cycle.

Wow. See? I come by it naturally.

Smells like money

2008-12-27T12:06:00.003-08:00

Augie stepped out the front door this morning to do a litte sledding. He came back in about a 1/2 hour later and reported, "It smells like Iowa outside".

Really? What does Iowa smell like?

"Hogs".

Ghost of Christmas Future

2008-12-19T11:57:00.000-08:00

"I can here Augie and Joel as old men at your funeral, remembering that one glorious week in their childhood when they got cable TV. "

-email from friend, commenting on the mindboggling horror that is the realization that we have to get cable for one week in order to watch the Hawks play football on New Year's day.

Good Bye Blogger

2008-11-29T12:03:00.000-08:00

I am slowly, like slowly in the next 4 months, preparing to switch to WordPress. I have things I need to process and work through - yes more baggage- and I think it needs to be more private. I am not up and running over there yet, and since I am slow and essentially lazy - (and quite frankly I need Vikki to provide support services on Wordpress), it will be a while.

Will you still want to read me when it is up and running? - You can email me at kbswifler@gmail.com. If you are very very lucky, I will give you the URL.

2008-11-26T06:21:00.000-08:00

Obama's Use of Complete Sentences Stirs Controversy
Stunning Break with Last Eight Years

In the first two weeks since the election, President-elect Barack Obama has broken with a tradition established over the past eight years through his controversial use of complete sentences, political observers say.

Millions of Americans who watched Mr. Obama's appearance on CBS' "Sixty Minutes" on Sunday witnessed the president-elect's unorthodox verbal tick, which had Mr. Obama employing grammatically correct sentences virtually every time he opened his mouth.

But Mr. Obama's decision to use complete sentences in his public pronouncements carries with it certain risks, since after the last eight years many Americans may find his odd speaking style jarring.

According to presidential historian Davis Logsdon of the University of Minnesota, some Americans might find it "alienating" to have a President who speaks English as if it were his first language.

"Every time Obama opens his mouth, his subjects and verbs are in agreement," says Mr. Logsdon. "If he keeps it up, he is running the risk of sounding like an elitist."

The historian said that if Mr. Obama insists on using complete sentences in his speeches, the public may find itself saying, "Okay, subject, predicate, subject predicate - we get it, stop showing off."

The President-elect's stubborn insistence on using complete sentences has already attracted a rebuke from one of his harshest critics, Gov. Sarah Palin of Alaska.

"Talking with complete sentences there and also too talking in a way that ordinary Americans like Joe the Plumber and Tito the Builder can't really do there, I think needing to do that isn't tapping into what Americans are needing also," she said.

-The Borowitz Report

Where's Joely?

2008-11-24T12:37:00.000-08:00

Joely was too little to go to the Iowa game. Maybe when he is 6 or 7. He has to be able to a) sit still, b) watch the game and c) leave the adults alone to drink and watch for penalties.

So he stayed at Auntie Suzanne, Uncle Mike and Cousin Frannie's house.

Tomato Soup and Grilled Cheese - A Toddler's Dream Dinner.

Sunday Morning Thomas The Tank Engine with Isabelle the cat.

I am unidimensional - meaning I am spending all my time on Facebeg

2008-11-24T09:00:00.000-08:00

I have already eaten my words from last summer, when I forsook Facebook.

So,I am at facebook a lot these days. I will show you some photos of my fabulous weekend when my beloved football team made mincemeat of Minnesota.

World Wide Congratulations

2008-11-07T13:05:00.000-08:00

Well, ok, not world-wide, more like North Atlantic Wide.

Friend Lina from Stockholm:
"Just a note to say how thrilled and happy I am that Obama is now as the President of USA!! I think it is so great and such a relief that America now has a leader with sane ideas. I sincerely hope that there will be Change and that Obama will get the support needed to succeed."

Friends Sarah and Louise in London:
"Tired, emotional (both of us in tears) but ecstatic here this morning. Oh my God! He did it!! Congratulations. You must be dancing round the garden, huh? Have a dance for us. We managed to stay up till 3 & are now bleary-eyed and coffee-fueled and can't quite believe it's happened....
Love Louise and Sarah"

Documenting Halloween 2008

2008-11-07T12:28:00.001-08:00

Joel - Gryffindor Seeker

Augie - Creepy Dementor

I didn't want to move Barack down my page, but I suppose I will put the minimal halloween photos up.

Yes We Can

2008-11-03T17:58:00.000-08:00

I am totally psyched. This afternoon I ended up making this spread sheet at the Obama south minneapolis headquarters - a spread sheet of close to 100 folks that were willing to drive people to the polls or act as vouchers. They handed me a list and sat me down at a laptop and put me to work. It was totally energizing and for two hours this afternoon I was a part of something big and imminent. Everyone in the room was working together and totally coheased (is that a word?) into a common goal.

Now Augie and I are going to sit down to a game of chess and a little HP5 - yes sadly he is compulsively re-reading them at the rate I do - and then we will go off to bed.

Tomorrow morning Brian and I are going to get up and walk over to our precinct with the kids and cast our votes.

2008-11-03T09:38:00.000-08:00

I will be over at Walker Church this afternoon, doing whatever needs to be done in the final Get Out The Vote effort for That One.

Giant Lego Man Appears on Beach

2008-10-31T07:25:00.000-07:00

For some reason I can't stop laughing at this headline.

Full article here.

Boy do I have a lot to learn about racism

2008-10-30T11:06:00.001-07:00

This is a stream of consciousness, so bare with me. Or bare with me. Or try and bear me.

First off, I got some good feedback about my Write to Marry blog post. It was really really good.

Try this on - it fit me pretty well when it was presented to me: It was from a position of white privilege (or you could call it white supremacy if you were ok with not getting freaked out by the term white supremacy) that I could write that racism and homophobia are the same. They are not the same (yes they are discrimination and there it ends) and they are so not the same that I realize how utterly retarded I sounded in writing that. But yet, part of me knew that I was writing out of total stupidity and hoped I would get some feedback. And I did. Some good comments, but more importantly some very excellent conversations with friends and colleagues.

This is making me think of last week when I pondered the idea of getting a Barack t-shirt that had a black fist in the background. Exactly what the fuck would I be doing, and who exactly do I think am to be wearing that? I don't know what it's like to be black. I am kind of embarrassed that I even suggested it. But I will pick myself up, brush myself off and keep my head and heart open.

I don't feel defensive. I just want to get it, whatever it is I need to get as a white person of privilege. I realize that there isn't just one thing to get and that it is a series of "both/ands", nuances, history, complexities and owning uncomfortable truths.

I had this constructive conversation with a running partner this morning about white privilege/white supremacy and it left me realizing how much I have to learn and absorb. How I really don't understand at all how the slave economy and its trickle downs are still with us today... And while I know about Emancapation Proclamation and I can talk about Jim Crow, I didn't really take the time to understand all of the implications, because as white person, I didn't really have to. I don't know much, (fuck i barely graduated from college) but I want to know more.

I want everyone (us whiteys) to be unafraid of learning and getting a deeper understanding of this because it will trickle up and make our communities better places to live and more connected to each other.

Am I making any sense? Do I sound like a syrupy infomercial? I am writing it all down not caring so much how I look to you, my dear reader, but so I can look back and build on this. I would also like feedback because I don't learn well by reading my own streams of consciousness - I learn by getting my ass kicked by my community.

I just want to get this out while I am starting to puzzle out my position of privilege and what it means and how I can learn from it.

Write to Marry Day

2008-10-27T05:00:00.000-07:00

Proposition 8 is about discrimination. Period.
As a straight, married, white, middle/working class, middlewestern woman, I do not see how our country can afford to spend one more minute legislating hatefulness.

I want to weep when I listen to people who seem to have lost sight that Jesus preached love, acceptance (and a good dose of anti-imperialism if you are really paying attention).

He told us to Love our neighbors like ourselves. Might I remind these Christian folks that as a betting woman, I am going to say that Jesus meant all your damn neighbors, not just the ones that you choose. All this leads me to conclude (because I love making sweeping conclusions) that there must be a lot of self-hate out there folks.

I'm just saying.

It's not that mysterious - men loving men and women loving women, or people loving people. I think that if people who are so afraid of "gay marriage" actually met some gay folks, they would be sadly disappointed to find out that they are humans. This isn't a freak show (though I am ok with freak shows for people who want to attend them), these are just HUMAN BEINGS. And in our country HUMAN BEINGS get the same rights whether you like it or not. I don't particularly like bigots, but I certainly don't want them to go without health care. I don't have a lot of time for women who wear too much make up either, but they certainly have the right to make medical decisions for their spouses.

WHERE IS THE TOLERANCE PEOPLE? If you surrender to a little tolerance, hell, you might just learn a thing or two.

*******

You know, I am just so angry about it. And the joke of it all is that it really isn't that mysterious. These homophobes are making a complete mountain out of nothing. Absolutely nothing. Being gay and lesbian isn't really that exotic or mysterious (I have a couple of queer friends who would be disappointed that I am "outing" their Regularity.... )

I am not sure if anyone knows this, but lesbian and gay couples still have to do their laundry, they still have to pay their electric bills....they still need grass seed and snow shovels and diapers and laundry detergent. Oh and they still have to call plumbers and they still get bats in their houses. They watch Monday night football and eat too much Top the Tater. They have poor grammar and high cholesterol and need mammograms. They are generally better writers than most of us.

*********

I have two boys, ages 7 and 4. I hope that someday we are going to look back at this time in history and say, "Boy, wasn't homophobia fucked up?" To me, it is EXACTLY THE SAME as Racism. I know, I know. I am a white person saying that. But there you go. I don't see the difference. Black folks couldn't vote. They couldn't drink water out of the same fountain. They had to sit at the back of the bus. They had shitty access to education.

Gays and lesbians can't get legally married, they have to adopt their own children, they can't make medical decisions for their partners unless they spend money on attorney fees. They can't get family coverage for their health insurance.

That to me is just two sides of the same coin - That big ugly coin called Discrimination.

It's not about you. This isn't going to affect you. You will go on with your life much the same way it was. What this is about is giving all humans access to basic privileges that we have here. White straight people don't get the corner on the basic rights and privileges market. It is time for everyone to be included. Vote no on Proposition 8.

Positively middlewestern comfort food, part twelve

2008-10-19T07:35:00.000-07:00

How many times have I posted a photo of food I have prepared for the family? Let's say twelve.

Here are my photos of a beef stew I made last week with a Vinho Verde that I had leftover from a trip to the cabin. I try to be artistic with the lighting and the angle, but when you have a 5 year old Canon Elf Power Shot, your options are still the same as they were in 1974, when you were tried taking artistic photos of Mickey Mouse at Disneyland with your Instamatic.

Wish you could have come over for dinner.

White people wouldn't like this

2008-10-17T07:00:00.000-07:00

Augie got to give me $20 after he spent the day banging this against a park bench at camp.

I am a happy federalist

2008-10-16T07:00:00.000-07:00

"Taxes are the price we pay for civilization" - Oliver Wendell Holmes.

In the event you don't know who Oliver is, click here.

This is a Public Service Announcement

2008-10-15T12:10:00.000-07:00

Yes folks, my loose fingers have gotten me in trouble again. As a result of my temporary insanity, I have been forced to make my blog Private and Restricted, yet again.

Just for a couple of weeks while I head off some unwanted traffic.

And now you may return to your regularly scheduled lurking.

One of my favorite things.

2008-10-14T07:00:00.000-07:00

My cousin Tom needed a place for his sailboat to live. So, somehow our friends and their extended family agreed to let it live at their cabin. Then somehow this morphed into me shepherding the simple maintainence of the boat, and basically being the only one to sail it all summer.

I had a sailboat with my dad when I was in my 20's. I taught rich girls how to sail at an Unnamed Rich Girl Summer Camp. I learned how to sail at said Rich Girl Camp myself.
I kept a boat at a little Y camp where I worked during college. I hadn't been sailing in several years and it has been fun this summer to puzzle out how this little C-Lark works.

Here are some photos of it's last trip before we put it away for the winter:

Beautiful photo eh? Taken by my friend Peggy McKenna.

God, If I could spend the whole summer doing this, I might actually avoid a nervous breakdown in August.

You may ask why we took the sails down - I will tell you. We were running downwind, directly toward our beach. I wasn't that familiar with how the little boat handled, so I decided to play it safe and take the main sail down and let the jib bring us in - it worked like a charm.

Vikki (seated) and me at the beach after a very beautiful run.

Dr Hammer I presume?

2008-10-13T09:34:00.000-07:00

Brian and I participated in a murdery mystery role playing game with other parents from school over the weekend. It was a living breathing Clue - set in Victorian England. I played Dr. Hammer, the murder victim's private physician, and Brian played a pompous-assed, gambling scoundrel, Lord Blenkinsop.

Trying to emulate the grim photos of yore.

Sterling Verity, the rich and pompous landowner (Kristen Brown); Lord Blenkinsop (Brian); Pat Hardy the gentle teacher (Edie Karras) and me, Dr. Hammer.

The Sign in our Yard

2008-10-07T08:41:00.000-07:00

In other news

2008-09-29T13:32:00.001-07:00

I have purchased my first skirt swimming suit. I am forty, you know. What does it say when I have to get a size 6 top and a size 10 bottom?

Large pears come to mind.

Breeder hips, perhaps?

Too many "Moments on the lips" and now I forever have hips?

More truths resulting in desperate weeping on my part

2008-09-25T08:38:00.000-07:00

This quote is from Matt Taibbi in the latest Rolling Stone:

"Here's the thing about Americans. You can send their kids off by the thousands to get their balls blown off in foreign lands for no reason at all, saddle them with billions in debt year after congressional year while they spend their winters cheerfully watching game shows and football, pull the rug out from under their mortgages, and leave them living off their credit cards and their Wal-Mart salaries while you move their jobs to China and Bangalore.

"And none of it matters, so long as you remember a few months before Election Day to offer them a two-bit caricature culled from some cutting-room-floor episode of Roseanne as part of your presidential ticket. And if she's a good enough likeness of a loudmouthed Middle American archetype, as Sarah Palin is, John Q. Public will drop his giant sized bag of Doritos in gratitude, wipe the sizzlin' picante dust from his lips and rush to the booth to vote for her. Not because it makes sense, or because it has a chance of improving his life or anyone else's, but simply because it appeals to the low-humming narcissism that substitutes for his personality, because that image on TV reminds him of the mean brainless slob he sees in the mirror every morning.

"Sarah Palin is a symbol of everything that is wrong with the modern United States. As a representative of our political system, she's a new low in reptilian villainy, the ultimate cynical masterwork of puppeteers like Karl Rove. But more than that, she is a horrifying symbol of how little we ask for in return for the total surrender of our political power. Not only is Sarah Palin a fraud, she's the tawdriest, most half-assed fraud imaginable, 20 floors below the lowest common denominator, a character too dumb even for daytime TV – and this country is going to eat her up, cheering every step of the way. All because most Americans no longer have the energy to do anything but lie back and allow ourselves to be jacked off by the calculating thieves who run this grasping consumer paradise we call a nation."

Guest poster - Senator Bernie Sanders

2008-09-24T08:56:00.001-07:00

Cousin Tom sent this to me from Senator Sanders website:

Billions for Bailouts! Who Pays?

By Senator Bernie Sanders

The current financial crisis facing our country has been caused by the extreme right-wing economic policies pursued by the Bush administration. These policies, which include huge tax breaks for the rich, unfettered free trade and the wholesale deregulation of commerce, have resulted in a massive redistribution of wealth from the middle class to the very wealthy. The middle class has really been under assault.

Since President Bush has been in office, nearly 6 million Americans have slipped into poverty, median family income for working Americans has declined by more than $2,000, more than 7 million Americans have lost their health insurance, over 4 million have lost their pensions, foreclosures are at an all time high, total consumer debt has more than doubled, and we have a national debt of over $9.7 trillion dollars.

While the middle class collapses, the richest people in this country have made out like bandits and have not had it so good since the 1920s. The top 0.1 percent now earn more money than the bottom 50 percent of Americans, and the top 1 percent own more wealth than the bottom 90 percent. The wealthiest 400 people in our country saw their wealth increase by $670 billion while Bush has been president. In the midst of all of this, Bush lowered taxes on the very rich so that they are paying lower income tax rates than teachers, police officers or nurses.

Now, having mismanaged the economy for eight years as well as having lied about our situation by continually insisting, “The fundamentals of our economy are strong,” the Bush administration, six weeks before an election, wants the middle class of this country to spend many hundreds of billions on a bailout.

The wealthiest people, who have benefited from Bush’s policies and are in the best position to pay, are being asked for no sacrifice at all. This is absurd. This is the most extreme example that I can recall of socialism for the rich and free enterprise for the poor.

In my view, we need to go forward in addressing this financial crisis by insisting on four basic principles:

(1) The people who can best afford to pay and the people who have benefited most from Bush’s economic policies are the people who should provide the funds for the bailout. It would be immoral to ask the middle class, the people whose standard of living has declined under Bush, to pay for this bailout while the rich, once again, avoid their responsibilities. Further, if the government is going to save companies from bankruptcy, the taxpayers of this country should be rewarded for assuming the risk by sharing in the gains that result from this government bailout.Specifically, to pay for the bailout, which is estimated to cost up to $1 trillion, the government should: a) Impose a five-year, 10 percent surtax on income over $1 million a year for couples and over $500,000 for single taxpayers. That would raise more than $300 billion in revenue; b) Ensure that assets purchased from banks are realistically discounted so companies are not rewarded for their risky behavior and taxpayers can recover the amount they paid for them; and c) Require that taxpayers receive equity stakes in the bailed-out companies so that the assumption of risk is rewarded when companies’ stock goes up.

(2) There must be a major economic recovery package which puts Americans to work at decent wages. Among many other areas, we can create millions of jobs rebuilding our crumbling infrastructure and moving our country from fossil fuels to energy efficiency and sustainable energy. Further, we must protect working families from the difficult times they are experiencing. We must ensure that every child has health insurance and that every American has access to quality health and dental care, that families can send their children to college, that seniors are not allowed to go without heat in the winter, and that no American goes to bed hungry.

(3) Legislation must be passed which undoes the damage caused by excessive de-regulation. That means reinstalling the regulatory firewalls that were ripped down in 1999. That means re-regulating the energy markets so that we never again see the rampant speculation in oil that helped drive up prices. That means regulating or abolishing various financial instruments that have created the enormous shadow banking system that is at the heart of the collapse of AIG and the financial services meltdown.

(4) We must end the danger posed by companies that are “too big too fail,” that is, companies whose failure would cause systemic harm to the U.S. economy. If a company is too big to fail, it is too big to exist. We need to determine which companies fall in this category and then break them up. Right now, for example, the Bank of America, the nation’s largest depository institution, has absorbed Countrywide, the nation’s largest mortgage lender, and Merrill Lynch, the nation’s largest brokerage house. We should not be trying to solve the current financial crisis by creating even larger, more powerful institutions. Their failure could cause even more harm to the entire economy.

This is the exact reason why John McCain is going to win this fucking election

2008-09-12T07:58:00.000-07:00

I just read this soliloquy from Evilbeet of all people. And it resonated for me so much that I have to quote her so you can feel just as crappy as I do about what is about to happen to the America that I apparently don't belong to:

"Here’s the thing: I’m kind of a bitch. And, every now and then, I run into somebody very stupid and painfully uneducated who disagrees with me about something. And, most of the time, I let it slide and move on because I just have better things to do than argue with uneducated, irrational people. But sometimes I’m just in a bad mood for whatever reason, and looking to make someone else feel like a total idiot, and so that’s what I do. I leverage the fact that I have a ton of first-rate education and training in logic to argue that perfectly nice person into a corner and make them look like an absolute fool, and when they’re on the floor and bruised and beating and coughing up blood, I kick them some more. And then some more. Because I’m a grumpy bitch and I’m gonna take it out on them. And when I do that, a funny thing happens. My friends — who I know agree with my side of the argument in theory — start to side with the other person. Because it’s painful to watch an innocent, simple, poorly educated nice person get ripped to shreds intellectually, and you feel obliged to defend that person.
Charles Gibson went to Princeton University, and currently serves on their Board of Trustees.
Sarah Palin attended a series of small colleges in Idaho, eventually managing to graduate from the University of Idaho.
Whose education sounds more like yours?
If the remainder of this election is going to consist of Ivy-educated old men making Sarah Palin look like a fool, you can just go ahead and hand John McCain the keys to the White House. Because it doesn’t matter that she’s a fucking idiot. It doesn’t matter in the Gibson interviews and it won’t matter in the VP debate. She’s a fucking idiot with five kids and a sweet, young face and she’s trying really hard and she loves America and don’t you dare act all high and mighty on her just because you went to some fancy school and got some fancy education and know all these facts and statistics and things because there is more to a person than just how many silly facts they can pull out of their ass.
It does not matter that Sarah Palin is a moron. As long as these fancy-pants old men keep making her look like a moron, she’s going to win over voters. They may not quite know why, but they’ll find themselves rooting for her. Could this approach ever work with Hillary? No, it could not. Because Hillary Clinton is competent. Would it work on a male VP candidate who was equally ill-informed? No. We expect men to be competent.
The selection of Sarah Palin as VP candidate has absolutely nothing to do with feminism. It’s just the opposite. It’s about playing on our natural inclination to expect less from women. It’s gross, it grows increasingly infuriating to me as time passes, and, also, it’s working."

Dear Joely, part four

2008-09-05T13:54:00.000-07:00

Dear Joel -

You might not remember this but last year you cried every single day when we dropped you off at school. Every single day! You stopped as soon as you got to your classroom (eventually), but until we were in our car, you were sure to be crying. And sometimes you even tried to run after us!

Today was your first day of school.

You are a Second Year Child now.

You are a big boy.

You are 4 years old.

And you didn't cry.

You can cry anytime you want, and maybe you will cry on Monday.

But I hope not.

2008-08-27T07:09:00.000-07:00

"ooooooohhh! Augie caught a crappie!"

"BWAAAAHHAAHEHEWHHHE! IT'S FLOPPING ALL OVER THE DOCK! YIIIIIIIKKKKEEE!!!!!!"

"The fishy is gonna DIIIIIIIIIEEEEE"

2008-08-19T19:17:00.001-07:00

He doesn't know it yet, but I am posting my cousin Tom's email to me from this afternoon. We started out about having a conversation about Georgia which of course cannot be had without a conversation about the way American's consume. I asked him about his take on drilling off shore and the energy crisis - here is his response:

"As to my thoughts: I agree with Paul Erlich that if we put on a WW11 style assault on the energy crisis we could solve it, but, sadly we probably won't - there's just too much money to be made in it by the Bush/Cheney's of the world.

Drilling, cheap gas, etc...is, in my opinion, the worst possible thing that could happen to our kids. It will mean that in our time, we'll prolong the "party" while in their time the shit will really hit the fan, making the Depression look like a vacation.

That said, I'm a proponent of a reality based solution. By that I mean, admitting the fallacy of our economic model and lifestyle. Unfortunately no one seems to talk about this. No matter what analysis you read, liberal or conservative, the issue is not about us changing an unsustainable economic model, its about finding an alternative energy to continue our current - and hallowed - "way of life." We must start by calling that what it is - bullshit - the way the modern economy works is unsustainable and if we really care about our kids (read: "family values") we'll admit the truth and stop the fiasco before it kills them, because if we don't deal with it, it probably will be our kids who will really suffer.

I'm for the WW11 style assault on both transportation/lifestyle changes as well as development of new green energy economy Many could be gainfully employed in the process. We could cut our military budget by 2/3 and get it on big time.

Then again, there's plate tectonics..."

Un emigrate - is that even a word? Can I do it 3 generations on?

2008-08-19T11:45:00.000-07:00

I just finished up this article from Foreign Policy in Focus. I know what you will say - (you being My Father) that is naive and simplistic to be annoyed with the fact that the US can't keep their fingers out of anyone's pie, and that If US government did stick their fingers in other countries for my benefit, I would not live my cushy middle class life that I have.

But, I can't help but be depressed and disappointed in how, seemingly, there is no place on the planet that can can say it is totally free of the Plucking of the Political Web by the US.

This pressuring and politicking, the tweaking from afar that the US imposes on other countries always seems to result in unintended eventualities that end up killing people or fucking up economies or blowing up common laborers houses. I realize that one can't see every eventuality or unintended consequence. But it does seem to me that if your own agenda, hidden or not, shapes your position and focus to the point that that is the only lens you see things from, then you start to JUST NOT CARE what happens to other people if your agenda is served.

And I am sorry to say that I am just not ok with that. I don't like it and I am embarrassed that the government behaves like that. Call me naive, but the US government looks suspiciously like perpetrators in my financial exploitation cases - give them 20 minutes, ask some simple questions about the allegation, and their hidden agenda is glaring at you. I don't want to be associated with this. It is wrong. It is against my midwest sensibilities -my sensibilites that don't translate to the McMansions and the credit cards and the excessive consumption of junk and junk news and i could go on and on and on and on).

I fear that no matter who becomes president, it is a foregone conclusion that the US is out of control and I often don't recognize it. Or maybe it was always like this and I just didn't want to look at it.

So maybe I will move to Sweden and drive a taxi. I am 3 generations removed from the language and all I can say is Hej Doa! (hello/goodbye!)

Is it too much to hope that we could just stay out of other people's business and take care of our own?

2008-08-18T11:05:00.000-07:00

Joel: I just farted!!!!

Augie: Joel, STOP IT!

Poppo: Kristin, just
take the picture.

Joel: I love Poppo

and I love

Poppo's head...

Augie: I love Poppo....

California's funniest home videos

2008-08-13T20:13:00.000-07:00

I was desperate for a laugh yesterday, so after I amused myself by nominating someone for a game show, Fussy directed me to one of her archives that is quite possibly the FUNNIEST THING I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE.
You can link to it here. The comments complete the hysteria.

Like Beef? You're invited to our house for dinner - for the next week

2008-08-12T19:59:00.000-07:00

We discovered that the deep freeze door was left ajar by Unnamed Yet Contrite Forces Living Amongst Us. Consequently pounds of our organic grass fed beef were thawed. Some spoiled. Some in the latter stages of unthaw.

As a result my spouse is downstairs right this minute making three pot roasts and preparing dry rub for some dozen or so odd steaks. Please, I beg of you, stop by tomorrow night for Beef Fest

Stephanie

2008-08-07T12:45:00.000-07:00

Stephanie is the most adorable, cute, sweet, calm, gentle chocolate lab I have ever met since Gunnar. She is 1 1/2 years old and her whole body wiggles when she wags her tail in that way that only labs have. I decided I loved her as soon as she nudged her muzzle against my leg.
I called Brian about her, and told him I was going to bring home a new Lab. I thought he would reign me in with some irritating, rational statement. Shockingly he said, "sure, bring her home".

There is a little, teensy problem. Aside from the problems of already having a dog, not being able to afford pets and vet bills, not particularly liking the yard being full of dead grass and the problem of general responsibility for pets that we lack.

The teensy problem is this: she belongs to a client. Mr. Client is going to be removed from his home by the sheriff's because his home foreclosed and his redemption period has expired. He can't read or write, has a brain injury, is on cumodin, has COPD and is an alcoholic.

But boy he has a nice dog.

He will have to move, likely, to a subsidized apartment because his income is so limited. He is not sure what will happen to Stephanie, and he doesn't want to have to part with her. She hunts pheasants with client and keeps him company.

I actually called my supervisor about it and in an astonishing show of clarity, he said it was "ABSOLUTELY INAPPROPRIATE" and forbade me to take Stephanie. He reminded me that in addition to dogs, I also cannot accept money, goods or services from clients in any shape or form.

But I think Stephanie is supposed to live with us. This was meant to be.

You won't believe this but a police officer I know offered to take her and then a week later say he can't keep her and bring her to our house.

I am actually considering this.

I've lost all common sense and my boundaries are at that ALANON meeting I've never been to.

Someone please reign me in.

Tabloid distraction

2008-08-06T08:43:00.000-07:00

For all my friends on their holidays in Portugal - This is worth a 45 second break from the beach.

National Night Out - A Pancreatic Assault

2008-08-05T19:22:00.000-07:00

Joel: "Augie, I had TWO Capri Suns and THREE SIPS OF DENNIS' COKE!!!!"

Augie: "Well I had an ice cream cone, a brownie, a cookie, two bags of Doritos and TWO SIPS
OF DYLAN'S COKE!!!!!"

Does anyone hate (the month of, not the child) August as much as I do?

2008-07-31T18:07:00.000-07:00

It's time for my annual nervous breakdown and we've only got a skeleton crew stateside for PCA hours. What is it about summer that I detest so much? The lack of structure pehaps? Is it the heat? Is it the absence of my favorite wintertime foods? Is it too many daylight hours that translate into my children staying up until 10pm and then sobbing at 7:30 that they have to get up because they have to go to a summer program in which I am really just warehousing them when what I would rather do is let them stay home all summer and loaf but then I would probably complain about that too and so therefore what it really comes down to is that I am inherently a complainer and an unhappy person who can't really say with any thread of truthfullness "We are having such a great summer" when in fact we are all longing for routine, later start times, earlier darkness and a good minute steak with potatoes and gravy.

My neighbor strolled by and asked how I was treating my nervous breakdown and when I paused he promptly reported, "Alcohol - that's my game" while also reporting that he reflects on the "wisdom of having children" daily.

I should be happy but I am not. I am a mean, angry negative person who prefers being at work puzzling out my financial exploitation investigations with spreadsheets (read: staring at a computer and not talking to anyone) rather than longing to collect my children and marveling at their wonderment. I should be as optimistic and peppy as my new friend Marty, but I have too much genetic Eyore in me for that. I could take medication, but I won't. I know it is temporary until the first frost. I would write "until the first football game" but my God! have you seen the forecast on those Hawkeyes? Dismal. Just like Eyore likes it. I promise to the Lord God Almighty Maker of Heaven and Earth that I will not complain about the snow.

spilled water, chopped off my finger

2008-07-29T09:26:00.000-07:00

I have been trying extra special hard not to be a raving lunatic bitch from hell this summer. I am running my ass right off my body to exhaust myself before 6:30am in the hopes that all of that rage and anger will burn off, and what will be left is a nice, soft, compassionate, patient mommy (and wife) who enjoys asking her children forty seven times to please come brush your teeth or your teacher's hair will fall out when you breathe GOOOOD MOOORRRNINNGGG to her. The thing is, I just can't seem to get past request forty six without my head spinning around and spewing green vomit and yelling motherfucker at the top of my lungs so my neighbor, (who is also a co-worker ) can quietly race to her car and make a getaway in the hopes that she can pretend she wasn't the one who called The Exorcist because she was Already at Work.

Yes Augie, it really did happen

2008-07-24T12:11:00.000-07:00

Augie, When you were 7, we were sitting at the breakfast table watching Gunnar. He was almost 14 at the time. I noticed that he had something long hanging from his butt and he appeared to be struggling around the back yard trying to poop it out.

During a pause in the conversation (which I think was about Frost Dragons) I got up from the table and quietly went out side with a roll of paper towels. Poor Gunnar! I ended up pulling out over 2 feet of something out of his butt! I briefly thought I was pulling out his intestine, but your father ensured me that there would be more blood. So we assumed (as we conferred over it in the back yard), that it was probably weeds from the lake.

I came back in the house and you were putting your dishes on the counter.

"Mom! Why are you washing your hands?"

"Because I just pulled 2 feet of poop out of your dogs butt".

Signs That The Mighty Has Fallen

2008-07-23T07:52:00.000-07:00

Sign #1
I am no longer Gap's target market.

For a couple of decades I've relied on The Gap because I am too lazy to actually shop and because I know the clothes will fit, and because I don't have to think - the stuff has historically been acceptable and I don't feel like a fool wearing it. For the last two years or so, I walk into the Gap and realize that there is nothing in the store I actually want to purchase. Who wears spaghetti strap maternity shirts to work, exactly? Survey says: Girls who are twenty. Kristin - YOU. ARE. FORTY!

You know that it is time to shop elsewhere when thoughts run through your mind such as - "look how unflattering these clothes are on people", and "how could anyone willingly choose to wear maternity shirts (or pajamas they look like pajamas to me) when they are neither pregnant nor sleeping?" When it dawned on me that I sounded like my Aunt Sis when she would gently request that I tuck in my shirts to flatter my waist - I knew it was time to start shopping at Talbots. Or LLBean.

Sign #2
After repeated attempts, I have to admit that I do not understand Facebook. Half the time I can't figure out how to view whatever was sent to me and I am befuddled by all of the clicks I have to make to see the damn fake hug I was sent. Why do I have to download a program just to look at a fake cartoon plant?

Sure I send my green patches and super pokes and write on people's walls.....But I don't feel connected to anyone. None of those chocolates are actually real. You know, that is my problem - there is nothing real about Facebook.

I am sure this has something to do with being forty. Call me crazy, but I'll take a real chocolate bon bon over a virtual one any damn day of the week.

Sign #3
I go to bed about 8:30 and get up at 5:30.

Sign #4
I find jet skis agitating. I like canoeing in silence.

Sign #5
I have no ambition to acquire an Ipod.

The Little Boy and His Fish

2008-07-22T11:47:00.001-07:00

The Big Boy and His Fish

2008-07-22T11:24:00.000-07:00

The Fish

2008-07-22T11:22:00.001-07:00

The Cousins

2008-07-20T15:15:00.001-07:00

Joely (4); Alex (17); Augie (7); Noah (8); Natalie (3)

fish, swim, boat, eat, drink, play

2008-07-11T06:00:00.000-07:00

I don't want to leave my whiny post all week, so here are some nice calming photos of where we will be this week.

In which I whine about our dismal financial situation

2008-07-10T06:51:00.000-07:00

We just aren't making it. It is taking me a while to realize this, but we just aren't. Every month we get a little more behind and a little more behind and I just can't catch up. I think part of it is because Brian wasn't working for a while in the winter and did not get his full income (remember? the broken leg?) and we have never really caught up since then. Sure another part of it is gas and food prices, but our little car gets such good mileage. Sure the minivan is guzzling gas, but that alone is not putting us under.

It is the debt from the winter that is doing it. It is the extra lessons. And camp. It is the little shit that I would like to just be able to consume without thinking about every little gin and tonic or jawbreaker or hunk of good camembert or fructose free jam that we indulge ourselved in.

It is school. If we didn't pay for private school we would have no financial problems at all.

None.

Zip.

We would have an extra twenty thousand dollars a year for quince paste and those basement windows that need replacing.

I mentioned this to Bri this morning. I said that I thought we might be approaching That Which Shall Not Be Discussed - moving the kids to public school. His position is still one of Natural Sugars and Locally Grown Bliss- that we don't need to remove them and we will just figure it out.

Why am I telling you this? Well, external process and the fact that I can't keep my personal problems to myself for a start.

But the bigger issues is I think the reality of the kids leaving LCS is pretty real and I need to start mentally preparing myself for it. I am going to feel like I have failed my kids. There are a ton of reasons for this. Challenging academics is a big one. Community is another. Quality of education is another. Beauty is another. How their little brains are being shaped by the method is huge. Our relationships at the school is another. My personal day dream is a big one - I have this little dream of the future, at the end of junior high, and of the satisfaction I will feel when we can say to ourselves - Fuck we did it! !! We did it! The sacrifice was worth it! We achieved the most financially challenging sacrifice of our lives! We're better for it! The kids are better for it!

I realize that that is more about me than the kids. (I also know that there may come a time naturally when the method is not working for the kids and they will need to go elsewhere regardless of our dogged commitment to living "financially on the edge" - financially on the edge for a rural white girl from Iowa who doesn't use credit cards and finds pleasure in toiling)

But I am not sure I can stay in The Race and I am not sure how to hold that horrible feeling right now. Though, living on a thread of dental floss is not so hot either.

So I start by throwing it out to the universe and see what comes back.

Twenty thousand dollars would be nice. Something less tangible and probably more valuable is coming our way. I hope I can recognize it.

Augie, with the whole, wide world of fabulous candy at your disposal

2008-07-07T11:09:00.000-07:00

......you choose a Wrecking Ball Jaw Breaker?

I could see his brain cells melting away as we got out of the car.

Is it sad that I am home alone while the fireworks go off down the street?

2008-07-04T19:40:00.001-07:00

Don't be sad for me. I am thrilled to be alone with a panting, pacing, near-hysterical, 13-year-old Labrador who is on his second milligram of Xanax.... and it still doesn't seem to be working.
Dare I give him another milligram?

Carbon Dioxide in one's abdomen

2008-07-04T07:57:00.000-07:00

When you get laparoscopy, you get the added bonus of having your stomach blown up with CO2 so your surgeon can see what they are doing.

When the surgery is over, they don't get all the CO2 out of your body. It just floats around in there pressing up against your diaphragm until it is "absorbed" by your body. In the mean time one experiences referred pain in the shoulders.

I have to say that I am finding the referred pain fairly uncomfortable. Our heating pad works pretty well, but the discomfort is pretty distracting.

All in all though I feel better than I thought I would. I told Brian before the surgery that I would be running again by Sunday. Now I see why he laughed at me. There is no way I will be running by Sunday.

I am going to go on a walk with the kids this afternoon over to Sibley Park. We'll probably take Gunnar so he can get a good walk in before we drug him with Xanax, as tonight is Gunnar's own Living Hell on Earth - Fireworks! It nearly kills the old boy every year.

Everyone went to the grocery store about an hour ago - Joely promised he would bring me some "Slushi". I hope they remember.

so long sucker

2008-07-03T10:53:00.001-07:00

My cyst is gone. I didn't get to see it in person, but surgeon did give brian 4 photos of the process. So now know just how huge it was compared to the ovary. It was big and grey and looked like a blown up, mutant fig.

The best part of all is that I haven't puked once! I got 4 different kinds of anti nausea drugs and they seem to be working. the anesthesia should wear off by Friday. In the mean time I am wearing an anti-nausea patch and taking the occasional ibuprofen. Pain I can handle - nausea and puking - not so much.

The kids are at gramma's, brian is brewing beer and I am going back to bed.

I am so white

2008-07-02T06:00:00.000-07:00

this is me. totally me

and so is this....

me! even the t-shirt bit

the icing on My Cake

If you are interested in a lauging at the expense of others,

2008-07-01T14:13:00.000-07:00

in the privacy of your own cube.....

then re-read this post.

Gluten addicts anonymous

2008-06-30T15:51:00.000-07:00

Why I am not on heroin or cocaine or a raging alcoholic is kind of beyone me. It could be perhaps because narcotics make me vomit and three glasses of wine make me vomit.

But shit do I ever have the mentality of an addict.

Today I did the equivilent of walking into a opium den when I walked with Joely, Vikki and Zeca to the May Day Cafe. Joel kept exclaiming on the way that he couldn't wait to have a cinnamon roll. And I just kept walking along, with my big flashy Denial Glasses on (got them in the Bargaining Bin at the Dollar Store) - sure they were pretty, but fragile and terrible unpractical.

Also, Andy, the owner, doesn't make cinnamon rolls on weekdays, so I was pretty sure Joel would be getting a cookie and I would be perfectly safe from myself.

I saw the pan of cinnamon rolls when we hit the front door. So did Joely. He ran to the counter to get in line (at 4 years old and 32 lbs soaking wet - he never ceases to amaze when he downs a 4x6 cinnamon roll the size of his little face).

I immediately, within nanoseconds really, decided that I too would eat a cinnamon roll. I did not try and talk myself into it. I did not try and reason, bargain or plead with myself. Within the time it took for my olfactery nerves to shoot to my brain, I had written a Revisionist History so full of Absolute Truths that I no longer had Celiac Disease. It was so obvious, running had cured me.

I spent the next 10 minutes having the most sublime of sublime experiences. Butter included.

As we walked out of the cafe down Bloomington to turn towards Powderhorn park (a half a block mind you) I started to feel the symptoms around the edges of my consciousness. By the time we got to the park I had to massage my side. About 15 minutes later, burning pain and bile bubbling up in my throat. This was shortly followed by the incredible urge to lie down and take a long winter's nap (this was pretty astounding). I COULD NOT KEEP MY EYES OPEN. I had to get up and walk around to maintain consciousness and not embarrass myself in front of my friend. Oh yea, I roped her in too by suggesting that we just keep this between us. (what happens in Powderhorn stays in Powderhorn - sad though that it is regarding flour and not something a little more sexy)

By this afternoon - my stomach was bloated and hard as a rock. I surrendered to sleep while Joely played with the dog in the back yard.

NOTE TO SELF - KRISTIN, YOU CANNOT EAT GLUTEN.

I was talking to Brian about it - (Yes, yes Vikki I told him. How could he not wonder what the hell I did today when my stomach preceded me into the kitchen and I was wearing a mumu from Omar's Tent and Awning) - and looking back, we never made the fatigue/drowsiness connection before. I spent so much time being tired, I thought it was from diminished coping skils (which it was) or because I was crabby (perfectly true), never did I connnect it to Celiac. Today, it was glaringly obvious.

So, now it is time to get my bloated body up off the floor, brush off the mumu and get back on the wagon.

2008-06-29T21:11:00.001-07:00

I was basically ready to give up the TV when February rolls around. I absolutely, patently refuse to spend money on a new TV and was hopeful that ours would just blank out - stop working - when the Digital Law of the World went into effect.

But alas, the government is making it easy for me and Mrs. Sorenson down the street - what with our 20 year old TV's - to help hurtle us into High Def. Hers came from her son Richard who left it when he moved to Saudi Arabia to work on an oil rig. Mine is from our friend Farhan who had three TVs and felt pity upon us several years ago. Pity and what do you get? not chocolate, but a damn TV.

Before Farhan's, I had the TV I grew up with in high school. A hand-me-down (or possibly Pity for Brian, I'm not sure) from My Father. I think we got that carn darn thing about the time Augie was born - it was about 20 years old! We had to finally send it to set it out for the dumpster diver when we tired of listening to is with no sound. Which we did for well over a month.....

Yea, we watched Survivor (back when Elisabeth With An S was on, and I compulsively read Salon's TV review every week about that first series....remember that? Ahh, those were the Bad Old Days of post partum depression, my brother's' dog shitting on our hand-me-down chairs and blizzards....Now everytime I see Elisabeth Hasselbeck I want to fart or blow my brains out. She is gonna be the next Joan Rivers, you mark my words....)

Where was I? Oh yes. The TV before last.

It was the one I sat at home with during those months in the mid-80's when I was kicked off the cheerleading squad, the Student Council and AFS because I was drunk with someone Who Shall Remain Nameless, and we were pulled over by my dad's friend The Sheriff of Calhoun County.... Sat at home watching videos of Annie Lennox and Michael Jackson and possibly Madness on Friday Night Videos. That TV was with me when I was a lost, drunken teenager and when I was a lost, post-partum mommy. I guess you could say that TV saw a lot of me. (What the fuck? Do I sound nostalgic about a damn TV? Well, you have got that all wrong. )

But now we have Farhan's old TV and a set of fancy (and I do mean fancy) rabbit ears. And soon I will have a digital converter box courtesy of the government coupon I just signed on for.

Did I mention I refuse to purchase a TV? Did I say - Mark My Words? If I didn't, I meant to say that. Mark My Words - we are not getting a new TV.

Smelling and Running

2008-06-28T11:06:00.000-07:00

I have a chronically stuffed up nose. I am forever being asked by some overly nice home care nurse (during telephone interviews) "Do you have cold?" or, "You sound sick".

9 times out of 10 I am not sick - it's just allergies.

Luckily one of the many benefits of my little run in the mornings is that my nasal passages open up like the Red Sea. It's a little gross, but I bring a bunch of kleenexes with me when I run. I should probably bring a bag, much like when I take Gunnar for a walk. Instead I carry the boogery messes in my hand until I get to my alley and then I throw them unceremoniously into a neighbor's (any neighbor actually) garbage can.

So this morning when I was running down the street, the first thing I caught was a wiff of toast.
Three houses later and I could smell coffee brewing. Further down the street I was overwhelmed by the flowering Caltapa tree (hmmm. should we plant one of those? The pods are a bit of a mess in the fall). Rounding the block down by the Creek I came nose to stench molecule with Dead Animal. Then back towards my house and I smelled bacon frying, The House of the Pall Malls and more coffee. By the time I got to my house I had convinced myself that I could be a coffee drinker again.

I love coming in the house on Saturday mornings. Everyone sleeps in. Gunnar is waiting for me in the kitchen. I get my box of Kleenexes and a glass of water and head to the front porch to stretch and milk Gunnar's old dog ears. Today I made Brian a small pot of coffee - with an addict's hidden agenda. Just a tiny cup. A few sips. A swig. I poured myself a tiny bit in a tea cup. I loved the smell! The taste in my mouth! It was glorious. Then I swallowed. And the little coffee spell was broken. Reflux brought me back to my senses. That bilious bastard that is my fat lady disease.

June 28 and it is under 70F here. It is breezy and rainy and Joely and I are going to go to the YWCA and sit in the hot tub and play in the kid pool.

We will have some fishy, in a little dishy...

2008-06-28T11:00:00.000-07:00

......Brian's many talents include producing kick ass smoked salmon with less than 24 hours notice. We slightly overspent our grocery budget on this delectable whim at Costal Seafoods.

It's not your money

2008-06-27T10:59:00.000-07:00

I spend a lot of time at my job explaining to adult children of vulnerable adults things like,

"you don't have a right to your mother's money".

or

"no, it's not ok to buy a new speed boat with your Auntie Muriel's Annuity"

or

"tell me why you bought new kitchen appliances and let your mother's nursing home bill go into arrears?"

or simply:

"it's not your money"

Today I spent an hour on the phone calling 6 different credit card companies. I spoke to their fraud departments. I explained that my client, Mrs. Teaberry, had had a stroke in 2006 leaving her cognitively impaired and in a nursing home. I explained that Mrs. Teaberry was getting evicted from her nursing home because her son, Jack Schitt, had not used her money to pay the bills. In the course of my investigation I discovered that Mrs. Teaberry also had these credit cards and each of them had balances in the thousands (and I mean THOUSANDS) of dollars. One card in particular had a balance of forty two dollars in October of 2006. Mrs. Teaberry had her stroke in November of 2006. By October of 2007 the credit card balance of $12, 398.

How the fuck can you spend $12,000 on in one year on a JC Penny Card?

Appliances. My guess is appliances.

It's only a guess, though. I haven't been to Jack's house. No no no. I make Jack drive downtown and spend $20 on parking. It's crossed my mind that perhaps Jack has been using his mother's VISA card on the parking bill (parking is expensive downtown). But now, he can't use his mom's credit cards anymore, because I had them all cancelled! Bye Bye!

What gives, people? Your parents' money is not your money! Your parents might not leave you any money when they die and guess what? You might not get to buy that new boat, or that new car, or that new coat or whatever it is that we feel we are entitled to. Is it worth the shame of knowing you got your mother kicked out of a fucking nursing home?

I have found myself in a similar situation. A family heirloom that I believed should have been given to me wasn't, and I am pretty damn sure the current user is going to outlive me. I have sat up at night ruminating about it. I have had hateful feelings toward the current user. I have tried to talk to other family members about helping me get it. It took up a lot of my brain time and a lot of emotional energy. I let it kind of take a life of it's own. I got a little tunnel vision. I started harboring anger and resentment against the current Holder of the Heirloom (more than I already had towards this person anyway, but that is another post, with the working title of "Forgive Forever" - stay tuned).

I finally had to take a good look at myself. Even if I presented my position (a good position - hey I am the daughter of a former attorney), you would be able to see through it and percieve that my motivations are complicated and tied up in grief and loss. My anger and resentment toward the user are tied up in past transgressions. I am not entitled to it. And for the love of God and all things good, it is a CONSUMER GOOD, so Get Over It Kristin.

Where did I start with all of this? Oh yes Jack Schitt and his mother's money. What Schitt-head would let their mother get evicted from a nursing home all in the name of new appliances and a trip to Old Country Buffet? It's not worth it, people. You are not entitled to an inheritance even if your parents' have millions.

Wow. The View From Mount Kristin is Perfectly Clear today.

PMS stream of consciousness

2008-06-25T11:06:00.001-07:00

I have decided to start talking to my kids about my behavior changes the week before my period. When your mother, who has spent the last three weeks being rather patient suddenly starts yelling motherfucker when you walk in the house with sand on your feet.....well, one might want an explanation.

I have had all of these unbelievably tedious stomach problems. I have celiac disease but I have also had daily pain in my right side....daily being like every day for about 4 months consistently. I have had the stupid pain on and off with some consistency for 10 years. No one knows what it is. It is not cancer; it is not Crohn's; it is not IBS. I have had an abdominal CT scan. I have had a colonoscopy. I have had an endoscopy. Incidently the abdominal CT scan showed a cyst on my ovary that has grown to 7cm. I am getting that cut out of me next week. AND the endoscopy showed my dead stomach villi, which aided in the disocovery of the celiac disease.

blah blah blah blah. Isn't this boring and tedious? Fucking boring. Fucking tedious.

I stopped going to my regular doctor and started seeing a naturopathic physician. I have been on so many supplements. They worked for a while but the stomach pain would always come back.
On top of that I became so constipated that I wouldn't poop for 4 days and when I did I was basically pooping gravel.

god isn't this boring? repetitive? aren't you saying - Kristin can you write about something else already? I have been sitting here waiting for you to write something funny and you are going to write about your damn health?

Well as an aside I stopped running in January when Brian broke his leg. It is not Brian's fault that I stopped running, I made a choice to stop because I had to eliminate something and hell, it's not like I enjoyed running that much.

On top of all of this, I really have a major mood disturbance about day 20 of my period.

I becaome a complete bitch. A bitch with Tourette's. A foul mouthed bitch with Tourette's.
A foul mouthed bitch with Tourette's who has only hatred in her heart for her family, particulary her children. A fould mouthed bitch with Tourette's who only has hatred in her heart fo rher family particularly her children, and who wants to complusively drink, which leads to even more condemnable behavior the following day. I have written about this before, here is one example.

But where was I? Oh yes, I am a bitch. I curse. I get irrationally mad about stupid things. I say hateful things and I have hate in my heart. Then I get my period and about three days later I feel normal again.

This winter was a bit on the difficult side. We had some additional stressors and I wasn't able to roll with the punches like I would have liked. But after we came through the winter I realized that my stomach wasn't getting any better and I had to try something else. Anything else. So I started running again.

You would not believe what happened.

First off, I started pooping again. Regular poops, regularly. Motility alone is enough to keep me running. Who cares how fast, or how long or if I walk ever 4th block, or if my body fat index changes. Pooping is awesome.

Second, my stomach pain is almost completely gone. It comes occasionally, but for the most part, I don't notice the inner workings of my abdomen very much these days. You don't know what a gift this is until you have spent 4 months in pain every time you eat anything.

Third, I appear to have more patience. I appear to fly off the handle less. I appear to be calmer and less bitchy. In short, I do think that I run the bitchy stink off of me.

Unfortunately I haven't figured out exactly how to maintain this great equalibrium from day 20 to day 33 of my period cycle. It is day 21 right now and I did in fact yell motherfucking shoes at the kids last night and jeesh, who deserves that? I have sweet, loving basically very good children. Who probably sit and wonder why is mommy so motherfucking mean today?

So, back to the whole point of my blog - I started talking a little bit to Augie about it. Not as an excuse, but more for an awareness and as an explanation that it is not his fault in anyway that I curse and yell about stupid things. My instinct is to give him more information rather than less. It's not a 3 page monologue about progesterone. It is more like.....

I am really sorry Mommy was so crabby today. It is not your fault. It is Mommy's body chemicals swimming around and making my brain a little off. Mommy is trying and I made a mistake and I am sorry. I love you and you are a very good boy.

....That kind of thing. Maybe I am making a mistake, but I am not good at all with secrets. And it is not their fault, I mean what kid doesn't walk in the house with sandy feet and does your mother really have to threaten to Sell You to the Pack of Wolves Down the Street every time it happens?

I don't know. What do you think?

Note to self

2008-06-20T13:28:00.000-07:00

I think this is my old friend Angie Parenza's blog. I am still debating a blogroll, so I can't put it there. I admit I am fascinated with some of her writing. Not to mention I want to know if it is actually The Angie Parenza who is writing this blog. The Iconic references and images would suggest Yes. But you don't care. This post is for me so I can remember how to reach it.

Fiddling around with the header

2008-06-20T06:43:00.000-07:00

That's what I am up to right now.

My little baby is turning 4

2008-06-19T11:17:00.001-07:00

Classic little Joely with his smudged tiger paint

(My blogging skills are a little rusty, so turing this one around is going to be impossible at this juncture) Joely you seem to love your brother no matter what. I hope it stays that way - something we can all learn from you.

On his brand new bike for Big Boys Who are Now Four

The little circus cowboy

With Poppo, Augie and Mommy at the zoo.

Joely you are an awesome little boy who is always smiling when you get up. You love your daddy so much right now you cry Honking Alligator Tears whenever he leaves...even if he is just walking to the garage. You are quick to forgive and you are not long suffering. You are mischevious, tricky, risky and a little bit impulsive. But every day I see you growing up and every day I find myself trusting your instincts more and more (which is an improvement believe me). You are a loving and good little boy. The best! I love you.

Not dead yet

2008-05-22T08:48:00.001-07:00

I think thinking, in my spare thinking time, about starting afresh with a new blog.

Now I will think some more about it and let you know what transpires.

blogging from a traffic jam

2008-03-26T18:53:00.000-07:00

Well that about sums it up. Stuck on 94.

The Francis the 1st Post

2008-03-17T13:33:00.000-07:00

I am not quite ready to write it I guess.

And here's what I am eating

2008-03-11T08:56:00.000-07:00

It's really not that bad so far - not eating wheat products. I miss cookies quite a bit. I ordered those damn Thin Mints before I got diagnosed and then they arrived and I sat around watching my family tell me that they were really horrible this year and I wasn't missing out on anything .

Liars.

I am working out a Teff, Buckwheat and Oatmeal cookie that will probably be only wonderful to me. I will report back when I perfect that.

But for now - Here is what we have been eating.

I am not really a photographer, but I think those green beans look pretty tasty.

The children don't run away screaming like banshees when they see beets on their plate, but I am forced to roast them separately. God don't these look gorgeous?

Sweet Potato and Rutabaga prep from last night

Those marinating chicken thighs don't look too appetizing right there, but I assure you that they were devoured by my carnivores. I should have taken a photo of the finished product.

I have celiac disease

2008-02-25T09:19:00.001-08:00

and plenty of stomach complaints to go along with it.

Really? Yes. Really.

2008-02-19T14:22:00.000-08:00

An email reminding me of my past arrived today from a high school friend....

Kristin:
I have been meaning to email you. Larry and I went to VanHalen the other night in Des Moines--you know the real Van Halen with David Lee Roth. I kept thinking of the time you, me , Luanne and I think Bethany? went to Omaha to see them and we hid our grapes soaked with sloe gin in the ditch the night before? ...what the hell.

Anyway. I still like Van Halen (never liked Sammy Haggar with them) but since Davidwas back, I had to go see them. They were pretty good. Eddie just ripped the guitar (I believe you had the hots for him)
They played "hot for teacher" I was cracking up.
Love,
High School Friend

To the parents of Joel Wifler

2008-02-07T10:22:00.000-08:00

Mom and Dad received this today.....

Hi Kristin and Brian,

Jordan (Mr. Fitch) has lunch with our class 3 times a week. He spoke to me today about a couple of things I would like to relay to you for thoughts, comments, and perhaps a little eye-rolling.

Our sweet Joel has been sneaking food from others. Sometimes he tells Jordan it is his food, and clearly he is standing at someone else's table with their bag of celery open, and he is munching on a piece.

Today he put his food on his plate and Mr. Fitch didn't think it looked like enough to eat. He denied there was anything left in his lunch box, but the container of fruit was found in his lunch box after we cleaned up.

During the morning work period, he has been known to nibble (or gobble) children's baked cookies while they wash dishes. I am now the cookie patrol.

And finally, Joel was found picking macaroni out of the sink and eating it during clean-up when children rinse their dishes. (This is where the eye-roll comes)

So...here are some thoughts I wonder about:
Is he still hungry and not interested in his own food? Should you pack more?

Is it that small part of him that likes to be sneaky?

Is it curiosity, where some children touch what they wonder about, but Joel eats it?We would love your thoughts and suggestions to support our friend.

Fondly,
Mrs. Raasch

My Boss Spice Rack

2008-02-04T10:02:00.001-08:00

Letter to Augie and Joel for January 2008

2008-01-28T11:22:00.000-08:00

Augie and Joel,

Well, when you look back on 2008, you will remember that on January 3rd during your winter break, your dad broke his leg in a spectacular accident on Powderhorn Hill. He broke his driving leg and had to hobble around the house on crutches for three months. He only left the house when we could scrape all the ice off of the sidewalks, trying to reduce the risk of a broken hip or perhaps a twisted elbow.

Thank you for the surprise 40th Birthday Party! I had so much fun. I had no idea! You did such a good job of keeping is secret. It was the best birthday party ever - even when Joely threw up in Raquel and Susan's bathroom. Do you remember the soup everyone made? And the nice wine and beer? and the salads and the cake? Do you remember that everyone chipped in to give me money for a new tattoo? And how Susan insisted that I indulge myself instead of paying the electric bill or some other mundane thing? And do you remember I bought the bossest spice rack in the history of online shopping instead? I was pretty indulgent.

Neither of you have said much about my frenzied decision to paint the kitchen in a new and spectacular color of blue. Did you notice? I am not sure what anyone thinks of it - someone said that "Blue is the one color that doesn't really occur naturally in the foods we eat".

Is that a complement?

Here are some photos of your cute selves (new blue kitchen included):

Needs a hair cut....

Got a hair cut...

Or how about those super cool Man U book bags that Sarah and Louise sent from England?

Or Augie? how about that nearly impossible, 600 piece puzzle of the world that Uncle Joel bought you?

Or Joel, do you remember playing the piano in your Birthday Suit?

Small Things One Never Contemplated

2008-01-07T12:13:00.001-08:00

Like taking a 6-foot Christmas Tree down and out the door by yourself.

Call 1-800-The-Shit-You-Can-Accomplish-When-Your-Spouse-Is-In-The-Hospital-With-A-Broken-Leg for details

2008-01-03T06:00:00.001-08:00

You know, I liked being shut down so much that I have awarded myself a sabbatical. For an unknown period of time.

Lately I haven't really had anything to say or write about. Thoughts and struggles that I want to process or need to work through, well for some reason (could be that awful google hit with my name on it last month) I am increasingly reluctant to process with the world of web users. Yes go on an mock me given that I have disclosed unlimited amounts of garbage in the last two years. But for me right now maybe it is time to stop writing and time to start acting.

Acting on what exactly I am not sure, but I have an array of things I can do to make myself a better person, so don't worry, it's not like I will be sitting around twiddling my thumbs.

The other thing is this; when I am around a computer - which is primarily at work- I have noticed that I need to be using it to do actual work. My job has changed and I haven't figured out yet how to have as much Blowable Computer Time as I used to when I was tied to a desk all day. Now I seem to be using (what was previously) Blowable Computer Time for things like leaving work early and making a casserole or doing the laundry or going running.

So maybe for now I am not going to post. Maybe next week I will decide to post, maybe not.

Keep checking in if you want.

Or not. Most of you can just call me and we can go out for lunch and I can process my personal shit over a bowl of soup a hunk of butter and a nice piece of bread.

My omnibus bill did not pass

2007-12-20T06:48:00.001-08:00

Mount Kristin is shutting down for the Holidays.

Effective Immediately.

Micey, Micey....

2007-12-17T11:49:00.000-08:00

For more about my workplace, click here.

Augie turns Seven

2007-12-12T08:41:00.000-08:00

He looks so solemn here, but really, he was having fun. See the cake? We had a frosting crisis i.e. mom couldn't find the fancy frosting colors, so Aunty Beth improvised with Pecans and M&M's. Augie was such a good sport about it. That's Auntie Beth in the background with her wine glass.

In this photo he is saying, " The last photo Mommm! I want to eat my cake!"

A series of birthday events

2007-12-09T08:16:00.000-08:00

Augie has totally scored on the Birthday Event Front. He is going to be 7 this week. Here is a round up of (what's turning into) a week's worth of events:

Friday - grandparents from iowa, aunt and uncle from Wisconsin arrive. We eat one of his fave meals (rigatoni). Chocolate ice cream with chocolate sauce for dessert
Saturday - First day of Circus School - aunt and Uncle come along. Grandma and Grandpa from Blaine come for dinner along with Aunt, uncle and cousin and aunt and uncle. We have pizza and a very beautiful and stunning dragon cake courtesy of aunty beth.
Sunday morning: feverishly putting together dragon lair legos from Grandma and Papa
Wednesday morning: Because I couldn't convince him otherwise (and why should I? it's his birthday right?) He has requested a birthday breakfast consisting of Key Lime Pie and a protein shake.
Wednesday Evening. Birthday dinner with Gramma Sissy and Uncle David. Oh and of course his parents and his brother are invited too.
Friday: Birthday celebration at school - fruit leathers for everyone and he gets to bring Byron the careworn beaver to school with him. How could life be any more perfect?
Saturday: Augie has invited all of his friends and their parents to meet us at Powderhorn Park for ice skating and hot chocolate. Hopefully the rink will be frozen and we can celebrate another year of the rink, frost bite and Augie turning 7 years old. Come one come all!

2007-12-07T06:45:00.000-08:00

I am not sure what you will think of this, but I helped Augie set up his own blog.
No, i haven't thought out the unintended consequences i.e. he will just sit on the computer all his life and only have virtual friends, boyfriends and girlfriends. My plan is very short term; He asked me what a blog was, I told him it was a place where you could write stories and see who finds you on the internet. He said he wanted to write a story about dragons on a blog and i said ok.

I set up the blog with the same template as mine. when i got home last night i showed it to the auginator and he sat down and started rearranging the color scheme, so now it is all his own creation. the first post he dictated to me. this immediately bored him because he was not doing it all himself.....so the second post is his own effort. it took him a good 15 minutes to write the post, but he did it all by himself.

I can't believe I am going to ask this, but would you consider stopping over and writing him a note? Last night he said he was sure many people would be interested in his dragon story.

I told him I was sure they would.

Here is the link:
http://www.augiesthoughtsaboutdragons.blogspot.com/

When Morgue Humor Fails Me

2007-12-06T11:15:00.000-08:00

I am in the office today in the case of a client emergency - then it's Mount Kristin to the rescue.

These type of days lead to lots and lots of surfing, following trains of thought and threads of useless information.

Like how I got to this comparative photo:

Even me, who can laugh in the face of client deaths, rapes and thefts if I absolutely have to, can't come up with anything - Anything - to say. Except maybe to say that This Actually Is Your Body on Drugs. Who needs a picture of fried eggs?

I used drugs. I tried drugs. But God help me I prefer hamburgers over cocaine any day of the week. That and in the end I really wasn't all that screwed up. Not enough to stop eating. Is that what she is doing? Not eating.

I did gag just a little bit on my lunch. My wholesome, reasonable middlewestern lunch consisting of roasted parsnips, sweet potatos and carrots with a baked, marinated chicken breast.

Stella and Miguel to the rescue

2007-12-06T08:15:00.000-08:00

I am not sure how many of you knew about the Park Board's budget proposal for 2008. It included eliminating several skating rinks (mostly on the east and north ends of town). One of the rinks is Powderhorn Park rink. Powderhorn's rink is on the lake. Powderhorn rink is beautiful - you get to skate around the island, the park is lovely from the ice, you can see the downtown skyline in the distance. You also get to see kids who wouldn't otherwise skate, trying out the ice with the free skates from the warming house....

Anyway, last night Stella and Miguel along with their parents went to the public meeting to cite their protest about the budget cuts. And they did a beautiful job with their words and their presence. I know because I saw them on cable access!!!!

I just read from Leigh that the board voted to amend closing of Powderhorn Rink!!!! Yea Miguel and Stella! Lets all get out there and skate this weekend!

Holy cute photos

2007-12-05T10:12:00.000-08:00

Well, I just got these from Vikki, who used her new camera at our impromptu sledding/ hot chocolate party on Sunday at Raquel and Susan's.

When the higher ups follow your case

2007-12-04T06:00:00.000-08:00

Now I am super busy because I got a new case in which commissioners, program managers and division managers are interested in my every update. It has nothing at all to do with my last freak out, it is a new case.

It's the universe giving me my opportunity to work on my grace and courtesy since I have to give The Suits updates, memos, telephone numbers and when I last pooped my pants.

Here is the deal

2007-11-30T09:47:00.000-08:00

Here is what happened:

I have a case, where a perpetrator is stealing money from my client. as a result it is putting the client at risk of being evicted from his/her facility. Way back in september i got the administrator of the facility to verbally agree to withhold or suspend an eviction until we could get the financial piece straightened out.

the best way to do this is to remove the money and make it unavailable to the perp. ( i also write threatening letters and legalistic letters and have had the police go to the perps work place and make additional, relatively empty threats...all in a days work).
the only real recourse i have is to remove the perp from managing the social security benefit aka The Rep Payee Account. What needs to be done is to make application to Social Security for a new rep payee (variety of ways to do this), in this case a professional organization.
i submitted that application in september and as of tuesday, social security had not processed the god forsaken thing.

The facility is getting over 2/3 of their money because medical assistance is paying for most of the client's expenses. the portion the client owes is only 1/3 or less of the total monthly cost. so the total arrears is a lot less than it could be.

Since September, I have spoken several times to the administrator, providing updates like, "social security has not procssed the application." and making reminders like, "i still expect you to hold your end of the bargain and wait this one out". etc etc.

on monday morning i got a voicemail from the administrator stating they were going to proceed with the eviction because "nothing had been done".

this fucking pissed me off. which was my first mistake. remember my declaration that when working in bureacracies the first lesson one must learn is to "submit"? well, i totally failed letting this one wash over me. i was bitchy, impatient and frustrated. and told the administrator so. i accused the person of not following through on commitments blahblah blah.
in short i lost it. the administrator said that they would have their attorney call me and i said that I would welcome that.

so the attorney called me. unfortunately the attorney's tactic was paternalistic intimidation. He didn't know that i was raised by attornies, so there was little that could be done to intimidate me. This kind of behavior only makes me mad. And disappointed that he couldn't try harder. His first transgression was to inform me that my tone of voice was abrasive and that if i would be more pleasant we could work this all out. i said that i didn't care about tones of voices, i cared about following through on commitments, trust and action.

the attorney told me that the facliity and the administrator were victims of the perpetrator.

i said that i didn't work for the facility, that i wasn't a collection agent and that i didn't actually consider them victims of anything, that the client was the victim.

the attorney then used the"i want to talk with your supervisor" approach, which i said i would welcome because i was tired of speaking with said attorney anyway.

i provided my supervisor's name and number and threw in the program manager's for good measure. i also threw in the ombudsman's number because they would file an appeal to the eviction, hold it up in housing court and cost the facility more money than if they just waited another month for the social security administration to get their act together and process the change of representative payee.

i hung up and wrote my supervisor and program manager about the conversation and offered to fill them in. i also mentioned that my tone may have been of some concern to the attorney.

i then vented the shit out of myself on a post. Some of you may have caught it. I didn't use this kind of detail, I didn't give specifics, I didn't use the words "attorney or administrator" any of that. I wrote about how it sucks sometimes to be being dropped into crazy situations where you expect to be dealing with rational, professional people and then have to discover you are dealing with LIARS.

i posted the blog.

about an hour later i went to my site meter and saw that an ISP in duluth had found me on a google search titled "kristin swanson vulnerable adults" and very likely read my fucking "vent post".

immediate panic set in.

i took down the post.

i made my blog non-public.

i drank a lot.

i processed with my work wife.

i processed with my spouse.

so far, said attorney has not called my supervisor, the program manager OR the ombudsman.

I am trying to move on.

Hello and Welcome to my new life

2007-11-28T16:45:00.000-08:00

Well, the internet has caught up with me.

You might call it Lemony Swifler's Series of Unfortunate Events.

These unfortunate events are primarily a result of my lack of grace and courtesy ( I blame my public school and genes - sorry dad), the bizarre situations I get into at my job, and my disdain for people who are stupid.

I have had to have two of Brian's beers to take the edge off my paranoid spiral.

The boys have discovered the paper shredder that Uncle David gave us and have created "Shredding Work". I think Brian just walked in the door and so far no one has shredded their fingers.

the upside of the vomits

2007-11-27T08:23:00.000-08:00

The best thing about our first seasonal illness is this - Joel now understands to hold his puke until we get him to the toilet, or in this case, the bathtub.

chestnut guts

2007-11-19T16:33:00.000-08:00

As you know, I come from a Rural Iowa Stock by way of Linköping, Sweden.
And by this I mean that we have no family recipe, handed down from generation after generation by The Daughters of the Republic, for Stuffing with Chestnuts. What the fuck are chestnuts anyway? In Iowa we have black walnuts. Those are good in date bread and fudge, but no one to my knowledge ever created a Stuffing with Black Walnuts recipe that weathered the generations.

So, my friend Margaret McKenna, who doesn't like to be called Margaret, but I call her Margaret because I can't help myself - well she apparently has one helluva Gramma Smithy's Stuffing with Sausage and Chestnut recipe, handed down for several generations dating back to her family history in the Carolinas.

I was given the coveted Stuffing with Chestnuts and Sausage Recipe, handed down by generations, by Margaret's partner Edith (as you can imagine, Edith does not prefer Edith but again I can't help myself because what is more perfect than a lesbian couple named Edith and Margaret?) I was told specifically to "boil the chestnuts" and then to peel them, etc etc.

I have never been one to follow directions.

And besides, doesn't the song indicate that Chestnuts should roast on an open fire for chrissake?

I was just a little to lazy to start up an open fire in the backyard, so I opted for a 425F oven, thank you very much.

Unfortunately I did not score them prior to putting them in the oven. About 22 minutes into the roasting, Augie, his friend Simon (of Oh My God You Lost A Tooth ! fame) experienced a house- shattering explosion coming from the oven. I knew something had gone terribly wrong, so I did what all responsible parents do, I took the bombs out of the oven and placed them even closer to the children, on top of the counter. We were just finishing our "shews! that was close mom!" when two chestnuts exploded in front of our very eyes.

Seriously. I am going to have to remember this for next Halloween. It scared the living shit out of all of us. We got them outside before the next detonator went, and lemme tell you I felt like I was freaking living out my own episode of MI-5.

I am through with Chestnuts. I am just going to eat the damn stuff at Margaret and Edie's house next year when we invite ourselves over.

things that should go in the baby book if i were creative and could be bothered to scrap book

2007-11-16T06:14:00.000-08:00

I don't know - do those scrap bookers document Special Incidents that Could Have Turned Into Disasters But Didn't" ?

We can call this: Augie-got-ahold-of-the-camera-and we let-he-and-Joel-take-photos-at-random-and-nothing-bad-happened-so-we-still-have-money-for-Christmas.

My personal favorite of Joely's

Have you ever read The Hotel New Hampshire? Please let me introduce you to Sagamore.

His name is really Gunnar Underfoot.

All I notice in this photos is how completely filthy the mirror is

Augie just got this sweater vest from the neighbor. He's worn it every day this week.

Brian sneaking Chocolate from Aldi's. Yup. We have chocolate from Aldi's.

"Portrait of a cheap Target Lamp with an ill fitting shade"

Photographing a Poltergeist.

holding patterns

2007-11-15T05:56:00.000-08:00

Work is crazy. People are vulnerable and suffer unspeakable harm and there is nothing I will be able to do about it. I am ok with this - I can be objective and detached like a pro. However, for a lack of a better term, I would say that the Crappy Psychic Vibes (that are in many rooms in which I stand every day), require something along the lines of what I like to call Psychic Teflon Shorts.

Sometimes my Shorts have Teflon Scratch. When this happens, I take the time to do things like go running, putz, go home and cook a nice meal, play games with my kids and go to bed very early.

I don't reserve mental energy to blog.

comment moderation take two

2007-11-13T08:55:00.001-08:00

ok, i can't be bothered to look at my email account to review comments (all two of them) so now i think i will just try the word verification jobby and see if that stops the spammys, susan notwithstanding.

comment moderation

2007-11-12T09:50:00.000-08:00

i set up my comment section to be as easy as possible. and, up until this point have managed to remain spam free. so i am back to comment moderation and i apologize for the lag time, but please keep commenting, i will post them as quickly as they come in.

chisels

2007-11-09T05:52:00.000-08:00

Well, we've lived through our first abscessed tooth. Augie started complaining of his tooth hurting on Tuesday and by Wednesday morning the whole side of his face was swollen. He was grey, ashen and absolutely toiling through the pain. By 11:30am we were on our way home with a bloody tooth in a plastic bag, some antibiotics and smoothie fixins.

The irony of it all is that Augie is my fastidious, anxious perfectionist child who flosses, brushes and rinses religiously and Joely who screams and fights to avoid tooth care will probably cruise through life with perfect teeth.

This is Augie right after we got home. You can see the slight swelling on the left side of his face. As crappy as he looks in this photo, let me tell you, he looks like a million bucks comparatively.

I don't really know why I am showing you this. I think I am posting this for Augie's benefit, you know because he will never have a baby book. See Augie? There is the bloody abyss where your rotted tooth once festered.

Isn't this just, well, fucking hilarious? Augie has a friend down the alley who is a very interesting character. He and his mom stopped over with this last night.

night terrors

2007-11-07T08:49:00.000-08:00

Joel is having night terrors. Or at least he has the last two nights.
People are running after him with vacuums and forcing him to remain in bathtubs against his will. Poor little Joely.

you know, i did finish that damn costume

2007-11-06T13:02:00.000-08:00

I forgot to download these photos...last week was a bit, hmm, hectic.

While he loved his costume, Augie kept his face as neutral as possible so his tempra paint feathers don't crumble (FYI - tempra paint may result in skin irritation. use on your child at your own risk).

The Prisoners: Scaredy Bat and Fawkes, the Phoenix

Joel took a left turn on Halloween and decided to be Robin Hood.

Fawkes is much happier without the face paint.

Did I mention how much I love my kids?

reminders

2007-11-06T09:35:00.000-08:00

I wanted to remind you about this post:

ghosts

2007-10-31T07:23:00.000-07:00

Last night i walked out of the Y and felt this warmish fall breeze on my face. Instantly it was 1985 and I was standing on the track around the football field in Lake City yelling,

"V-I-C-T-O-R-Y! THAT'S THE EAGLE BATTLE CRY!"

The wind felt exactly, exactly, the same as it did on a Friday night in the middle of rural Iowa. A distinct sense of déjà vu. It felt like my Skin Remembered being 16 - and apparently in that moment I was a happy 16 year old.

There must there must be a brain chemical for Emotional Revisionist History.

How can my skin experience the same sensation that it did when I was 16 and teleport me there? Will this happen again when I am 60? When I am 90?

If I hadn't glanced down and to see my child and his little buddy walking beside me (and the fact that we were approaching a mini-van), I would have believed that I was standing on a football field, in a cheerleading outfit...16 years old.

movie rentals

2007-10-24T06:00:00.000-07:00

Brian and I watched the first two episodes of MI-5 last night. I highly recommend it. The french fry deep fryer scene in episode two is a bit difficult to watch, though.

public information

2007-10-22T08:15:00.000-07:00

The fact is, we suck. And for Three Million Dollars, well should I have expectations if someone is paid Three Million Dollars? Do I really want to have this discussion? Do I really want to talk about how college footbal has gotten out of hand, how the focus should be on higher learning not the Coaches Poll? Should I be concerned that half of the scholarships go to borderline socio-paths? Or how the young men became borderline sociopaths?

I just want my team to win once in a while.

Interesting salary database