If I were king of the forest…

I hate election time. I am embarrassed by it. It’s the time of year when we trot out the poor excuses for leaders we have in this country and they try to convince us to vote for them because they are not as heinous as the guy (generic “guy”, women are not off this particular hook) against whom they are running.

I don’t understand the party system. I further do not understand why anyone with three brain cells to rub together would vote for someone simply because they bear the emblem of an ass or an elephant on their bumper stickers. Isn’t it counterintuitive to suggest that we want a “majority” of one party or the other deciding for us? Why does it matter? If politicians truly represent the people who voted them in, shouldn’t each issue be taken on its own merit and votes in the House and Senate be cast based on the merit of the issue and NOT whether you get called to the Speaker’s office for voting against party lines? What a bunch of idiots they are – and thus we are - for assuming that anything will ever be decided because it is what is RIGHT- instead, it is decided based on a “majority” sitting in office voting with their collective and less effective mindset. Oh UGH.

How will we ever progress? How will we as a nation return to greatness if we continue to square off against one another because of outdated, antiquated party beliefs? Seriously, voting for or against something simply because it’s what “the party stands for” instead of what YOU stand for as an elected heart and mind is ludicrous and ultimately harmful.

As long as I am on the subject I would like to suggest it’s time for further reform. Let’s see who really wants to “serve” as an elected official if they were afforded the same “benefits” our military gets. Let’s put them in government housing- doled out according to time in service. And let’s not forget the opportunity to shop in the commissary and exchanges. And the government run health care. Give them each a set, limited budget for campaigning. No fund raising. Really. If they want the privilege of serving the American people and making decisions about our health and well being I want them never to benefit from a decision they make. And so, like our military members, let’s neutralize their standard of living so it becomes moot. Accepting bribes, incentives, or offering the same in return should be a court martial offense. Let’s put honor and integrity back into our government. I would bet that if any of these reforms were enacted you’d see a scurrying out of Washington the likes of which we’ve never seen. There would also be a corresponding rise of hardworking, dedicated, smart, honest people who want to do right by their fellow Americans entering government service.

I’m just sayin’. And thank you to every United States veteran out there who defends my right to say and think what I just said and thought.

Jackie's Ashes

This one is for my friend Debbie, whom I know well, and for my friend Marie, whom I know almost not at all. Debbie and Marie are sisters.

Marie lost her beloved daughter a year ago. It was a sudden death and apparently painless. Which is an insufficient way of saying that while her daughter, blessedly, seemed not to suffer at all, the past year has been nothing but suffering for Marie and Debbie…and for those who knew and loved Marie’s daughter Jackie.

I don’t pretend to even know how crushing a blow this is. I have only a fleeting notion about the depths of despair and grief Marie has mined this past year. I only know that she has endured a loss that is commonly believed to be the worst thing a parent can suffer.

In the one year since Jackie’s death…Marie and Debbie have stood together against a tide of anguish, been beaten down and eroded by waves of pain…yet they still stand. It’s not as if they didn’t want to give up, to succumb to the pain, they just didn’t.

As a bystander it’s been hard to know exactly what to say or what to do to provide comfort in a situation that simply has no words, gestures, or thoughts that will truly ease their pain. We can only let them know that because they suffer, so do we. And hope that as time passes, anguish will ease. And with that easement perhaps some peace will come. And the memories of Jackie will continue to bring smiles and joy, though less and less tinged with grief.

It is what I hope for them. It is what I would hope for myself.

”… and every day you gaze upon the sunset
with such love and intensity
it's almost...it's almost as if
if you could only crack the code
then you'd finally understand what this all means

but if you could...do you think you would
trade in all the pain and suffering?
ah, but then you'd miss
the beauty of the light upon this earth
and the sweetness of the leaving

calling all angels
calling all angels
walk me through this one
don't leave me alone
callin' all angels
callin' all angels
we're tryin'
we're hopin'
we're hurtin'
we're lovin'
we're cryin'
we're callin'
'cause we're not sure how this goes”

- “Calling All Angels” Jane Siberry

I don't have kids, but if I did...

I just do not understand parents who let their 16 year old (or younger) sons and daughters fly/sail/swim/float/glide or whatever around the world SOLO.

What's up with that? I mean, is setting that kind of record really worth it? Are kids today so much more mature than I was when I was sixteen that this is a reasonable endeavor?

I know I am probably being myopic, in that I do not have children, so can't know how it must feel to want to see them pursue a dream. But really, wouldn't it be my JOB as a parent to say "Gee, honey, I know you REALLY want to set the world record for being the first 6 year old to navigate the underground lava beds in the Indian Ocean, but I REALLY want you to get out of first grade alive."

(OK I do zero research, so I am not sure there even ARE underground lava beds in the Indian Ocean, but if that's what you are focusing on you've missed my point and can stop reading now.)

Yikes, when I read about young Abby going missing last week on her solo sail around the world, I know I should have felt worry about her safety, but all I felt was anger at her parents for squandering the gift of a child.

The 13 year old who is climbing all the world's tallest peaks is at least doing so under the supervision of his dad and other experienced climbers. I can get on board with that. I may not love the idea, but at least if he starts to hyperventilate or have hypoxia or some other hyp- thing happens, his parent is close by to make sure he gets help.

Ok enough of a rant. I just don't get it and I never will, so enough said. All I know is a Dog Named Fish wears a life jacket when she swims in the pool. Call me overprotective and nuts. Like that's really gonna hurt my feelings. ;-)

Cat Hero

So here's a happy story:
As some of you may know, my husband has been caring for "wild" cats in our yard for the past year or so. What were once thought to be feral cats are now looking to be much more like OPC's (other people's cats) who have been abandoned. The population has dwindled significantly (coyotes we think) so that recently, there have been only one or two cats out there.

About a month ago, he said, "Boy that gray cat is looking puffy. I wonder if she is pregnant?" (wonder? of course she is....) I encouraged him to try to catch her so we could spay her, but he wasn't able to. So, two weeks ago, while I am sitting in Logan Airport he calls me and says, "Don't be mad, but I brought the gray cat indoors. I heard the coyotes howling and she began screeching, so I brought her into the guest room to keep her protected. And she's definitely pregnant."

No, I wasn't mad, but the reason he said "don't be" is that we are full to the brim with already- been-rescued cats and dogs. Six and two respectively. Plus, I would never want this poor abandoned cat torn to shreds: I wanted her safe too.

The next day he takes her to a low cost spay/neuter clinic: the vet there said the cat was too far along to be spayed safely. She gave him a list of names and numbers to call to get the cat into a foster care situation. After a week of trying, no one could help us. Gray cat is still living in our guest room...and she is as sweet a cat as you can imgine. Loving and friendly.

Last Thursday, things are getting desperate: its clear she is having several kittens, and we just can't handle more. I asked him to take her to our vet, who knows us really well (guess why?) I said, "Maybe they can help. Maybe she is not as far along as the other vet thought. Maybe they know of another foster program...anything." It broke our hearts to think of spaying and destroying these kittens, but we were not having any luck finding places for them. We could let them be born and then try to place them, but we'd been through that the year before and wound up with 5 cats...

He brings her to our vet, who said she would prefer not to because of the risk to the cat, but she knows our situation and would spay graycat the next morning if we wanted her to.

He brings graycat home and calls his daughter in MA to tell her the plan. She loves animals as much as anyone I've ever known, and has a great knack for caring for them. She said, "Dad, please don't spay her. If you drive her up here to MA, I will take her and find homes for the kittens." He was thinking about it...we live in NC and its a 12-14 hour drive....with a pregnant and ready to deliver cat...I broke down and cried and begged him to take her as soon as he could. I just couldn't bear the thought of losing her to the spaying option, and neither could he. It's now 4 pm on that Thursday and his daughter calls back and says, "Just get her feline leukemia test done so we know she is healthy..." She rightly suggested there was no point to any of this if the cat wasn't well.

Back to the vet, who had one last test kit available...and performed the test at no charge. Graycat is healthy and fit for travel.

So, instead of driving her to the vet on Friday, my husband drives her to MA. He arrived on Saturday after a long time on the road...and on Sunday afternoon she delivered five kittens. Momma cat and kits are all doing well, and he got to share the experience with his daughter (my new personal hero) and her husband and three sons.

They named the cat Gracie.

My Cat Hero arrived home again yesterday, driving 12 plus hours to make it back to the "zoo" he left here at home. He received a hero's welcome from me, Newt, six cats, and a Dog named Fish.

Starting new

I just started a new job at a new company for the first time in over 8 years. Now, that may not seem like a long time to some of the job hopping world (which, by the way, I am A-OK with; makes greater sense that the relentless hanging on hoping the pain will stop that some of us do)...but it is enough of a shift in my day to day reality that I find myself wondering why I moved on when the status quo would have been easier.


I don't ponder this for long, because I have a number of friends and family members who remind me what life was like before I took my 6 week sabbatical and then started fresh. They gently- and some of them even kindly- tell me I "must have been under a lot of stress". This is a euphemism for "yeah, you were a bitch, but we love you and forgive you". Now, I don't happen to think I was that bad, but I did recognize that my tolerance for annoying people, places and situations was at an all time low. And that suddenly my life seemed full of more annoying people, places and situations than ever before. Coincidence? I think not.

But I am better now. I had some time off- real time off- for the first time in my adult, professional life. I didn't do much by most standards, but being home every night, picking up my own mail and reading it the day it arrived seemed like an adventure, it was so foreign to me. I walked a dog named Fish, her brother Newt, and adopted a cat. (To add to the 5 we already have. And I don't care if you call me the crazy cat lady behind my back. That was something else I worked through during my time off.) I painted my office, visited my parents, and got most of my tax paperwork ready. Most.

And so now, here I am again, all revved up, poised to take on a whole new world. But something is amiss.

See, that 6 weeks off gave me a sense of what life is supposed to be like. What is supposed to happen when you have a full "outside of work" experience. I never knew what that felt like. Of course, I don't mean I should enjoy spending every morning watching Golden Girls reruns (but so what if I did that once in a while?) or languishing in my pj's until noon (again, so what?), but I do mean, recognizing that relaxing with old friends like Blanche, Dorothy, and Rose while sipping coffee is not so bad. I've probably earned it so why don't I give myself permission to do it?

Anyhow, that's why I feel a bit homesick. For the first time in my life I was home. Present and accounted for, and now I am missing what I only so recently found.

Social networks are the next big brother

I see it coming. So, I have a few minutes to kill (bad expression, I am thinking, now that I see it in print) and I decide to log into Facebook. Yes, its in the middle of a workday- sue me. I work from home and I work long hours, I don't "do lunch" I barely "do" bathroom breaks. The topic of my work ethic aka my inability to be like a normal socially adjusted person is the subject of another blog post. Preferably written by someone other than me so I can reasonably deny all knowledge of my true self.

BUT ANYWAY- I log into FB. I see a whole host of others with whom I work also logged in, making entries, updating their statuses (stati?), and doing who knows what all on company time. I forsee an entirely new IT job description "Facebook Police". They already have the ability to monitor all emails and other stuff...soon they will be monitoring when and for how long we logged into our social networking sites to post our latest "Its sunny and I'm heading for the weekend!" status, or tweeting, linking, surfing, scrolling or goshallmighty just plain reading. I feel myself justifying my 10 minute jaunt on FB by saying, well, at least I wasn't logged in as long as "SHALL REMAIN NAMELESS" and at least I was smart enough not to make a TIME STAMPED ENTRY. Yeah, I beat the FB police this time. Whew.

Its kind of like when NJ put the EZPass system in- it could actually calculate the time it took for someone to travel between toll booths, and if that time was deemed "too short"- the EZPass holder was issued a speeding ticket. Urban legend? I think not.

Ok. I think I am safe to press the "publish" button. Its after 5 pm....somewhere.

What I learned on my summer vacation...

Just got back from a trip to London with my mom and ten year old niece. My mom's treat! Nothing like being in the middle of the generation sandwich to remind you where you've been and give you a clue where you are headed. My niece- a really delightful kid, especially for a ten year old- seemed to have a blast. And when things were not going her way ("No really, you should LOOK at Westminster Abbey, at least, to say you've seen it!") because some things simply don't matter to a kid, she was polite enough to smile and say, "I saw it Grammy. I'll remember."

I reminded myself early on that this was not "my" trip- if it was we would have headed along at breakneck speed, days filled to the brim with stuff to do, exhausted jet lagged nights. We took a more solemn pace: my mom doesn't walk fast and she can't walk far, so right away that meant everything was done at a pace I haven't visited since I learned to walk, fall down, and get up on my own again. So, it forced me to slow down. To wait. To be patient. And maybe I saw a few things I might not otherwise have seen had I been moving head down, face in a street map, searching for the fastest route to the next "thing". As anyone who has been in my direct company in the past month will tell you, that was the exact prescription for this vacation. Stop. Doing. Stuff.

We ate dinner three out of four nights at the same (exceptional) Italian restaurant on Haymarket Street. Something I would NEVER have done on "my" trip. A new place every night, that's for me. But this time, we spent leisurely evenings speaking with the owner, getting treated as if we were "regulars" and enjoying some familiarity in a strange city so far from home. And the food was GREAT. And my niece- who can be a little fussy when it comes to food- ate what she ordered and loved it. Worth every penny not to have the "I don't like anything on this menu discussion."

We saw some cousins we hadn't seen in years (the highlight of the trip for me, surprisingly), witnessed a protest march of many thousands of people supporting the Tamil Tigers, and had lunch at an American Diner inside of Harrod's where the Austrian waitress told me "All you Americans ask for your salad dressing on the side. Its so funny!" Funny, like ordering a diet coke with apple pie a la mode, is what I think she meant.

We swam in the hotel's indoor pool (a rarity in London, from what I hear) and sat at the bar every night before bed, drinking a ginger ale, a scotch and cherry liqueur cocktail, and a glass of Shiraz (you can figure out who had what). We ate some kind of roasted mung bean snack, and played the game "How well do you know me?" which my niece made up. It consisted of asking the other two a question about yourself to see if they know the answer. If you wanted to, you could give three possible answers to help. It was how I learned she wanted to be a minister. Wow.

So, I learned a lot on my vacation. That I don't take enough vacations. That it is a rare treat to be able to spend time with people you don't get to see very much of even though you love them a lot. That its better to leave a place wanting to come back than it is to leave feeling like you wish you'd never been. That meeting new friends and saying goodbye after a short time is better than never knowing them at all. That coming home is still the best part of vacation...and a dog named Fish is waiting there.