dottier

The Audacity of Michael

2009-06-22T15:53:00.000-07:00

If you’ve visited this blog before – particularly during the presidential election campaign, you may have noticed a slightly (?) left of center point of view. I will also admit to a primarily “pro” stance with regard to the winner of that contest. But I swear – I’ve done nothing consciously to influence my youngest g-kid’s political leanings.

Michael has just recently turned two, and as his mother says, he is very “busy.” Recent “projects” have included producing original crayon artwork for the dining room and conducting user trials of the contents of mommy’s make-up drawer. Pretty typical stuff for a guy who’s two.

One of his more amusing qualities is his fascination with President Obama, or as he would put it, “Bamma.” This began several months ago when someone gave Daddy a somewhat questionable talking Barack Obama doll (search Amazon for “Senator Barack Obama Doll” for a visual). And while mildly amusing for most, Michael was immediately entranced. Despite competition from a couple of older brothers and parents, it wasn’t long before the Bamma doll was his and his alone. Where Michael went, Bamma went and what Michael did, Bamma did. Like the warm Spring day when the kids were playing in the sprinkler and Mommy emailed this picture with the subject line: “Omigod…he’s waterboarding Obama!”

Suffice to say, the doll version is not quite as resilient as the real thing. In fact, we started to wonder if Michael wasn’t perhaps being secretly propped up by the likes of John Boehner or Rush Limbaugh. After a few months, when the doll was reduced to a head (minus the moving mouth part) attached to a fragment of the suit material, Mommy went on eBay and found a replacement Bamma, which Michael readily embraced (without abandoning the first one, however, so now he brings both Bammas on all his adventures).

And, although Michael hasn’t really mastered the art of talking yet, he has learned how to get on the family computer, go to i-tunes, click on the Obama link his mommy made for him and watch the Obama video with both of his Bamma dolls.

I'm not sure where he stands on nationalized health care...stay tuned.

New Words?

2009-06-18T14:47:00.000-07:00

Has anyone used these yet, or did we just make them up?

Tweetheart - n \‘twēt-härt\: A lover one Twitters with.

Thumbpal - n \‘thŭm-‘pal\: A friend one exchanges text messages with.

Just curious.

Career ladder

2009-06-02T20:18:00.000-07:00

A couple days a week, I pick up my grandson, Tommy (age 5). We spend a few hours together, then walk to the bus stop to pick up his sister Vivi (age 7). Today, the conversation was thus:

Tommy: Gram, I don't think you should get a new job. You should keep the job you have.

Me: Well, Tommy, right now, I don't have a job.

Tommy: Yes, you do.

Me: I do?

Tommy: Yeah... keeping an eye on me.

Me: So, you like hanging out with me?

Tommy: yeah.

Me: I like hanging out with you, too, Buddy.

Tommy: They should pay you more.

Me. Yeah.

People I Like and Why, Part II - Julie

2009-05-13T18:30:00.000-07:00

What began as a professional business affiliation (in fact, there was a reporting relationship involved) has evolved into what I hope is the beginning of a long friendship; this, despite her imposing schedule challenges and my often laissez-faire social skills. As with so many friendships, I suppose we make a somewhat unlikely pair. She's affable and good natured and seems to thrive on social interaction. While that may have once described me, I've become less and less enamored - or at least much more selective - with making the scene. Julie is hip and contemporary. Her IPod playlists are chock full of the likes of Rhiana, Sugarland, Justin Timberlake and The Killers. Mine holds The Louvin Brothers and June Carter Cash. She follows "American Idol" on Fox, I prefer "American Masters" on PBS. C'est la vie.

About a year ago, Julie became part of what will forever be my favorite personal travel story. She and I were together on a two-week business trip that included stops in Seoul, Pusan, and Hong Kong. This was my first trip to Asia and her first to South Korea. And despite having a ton of work to do, there was some down time and we shared a determination to explore as much of the local culture as time would permit. Thus began our first Sunday morning in Seoul.

After working out (more on that later), we met in the lobby of our hotel. As often happened, she was there before me and had already collected maps, schedules and suggested spots for Seoul-searching. Being typical mono-linguistic Americans, we were delighted to engage the English-speaking concierge, a pleasant fellow who provided us with many helpful tips. Our day's agenda included a short bus ride to a local park which featured a celebrated Buddhist temple, followed by a cab ride to a famous outdoor market, from which we planned to ride the subway back to our hotel before dinner.

The park and the temple were lovely... beautifully landscaped grounds, serene and appealing. Just as we were leaving, it started to rain a little, but no problem - I spotted a bright yellow cab dropping off its fare right across the street. Julie was putting something into her backpack, so I ran over to the cabbie, showed him the market on our map, and started to climb into the cab. The cabbie, who spoke only Korean (go figure), seemed somewhat confused, so I became my most assertive - yet polite - self, gesturing and continuing to point to the map. Eventually, after a brief conversation with the people he'd just dropped off (to arrange a return pick-up, we assumed), the cabbie retrieved some items piled on the back seat of the two-door yellow cab and indicated we were welcome to board.

As we started to pull away, I commented that it was unusual for a taxi to be a two-door vehicle. Julie said his taxicab ID card looked like a race car driver credential. After a few miles, Julie further noted that it was also odd that there was no meter. I confidently asserted that they likely worked on a fixed fare system in Seoul. (Mind you, at this point, even I didn't realize I was completely talking out of my arse). Before long, our driver was signaling to see the map again, even while doing his best Grand Prix-style motoring through the Sunday Seoul streets. We tried our best to reference the map saying things like "FAMOUS OUTDOOR MARKET" loudly and slowly, as if that would bridge the language difference. Finally he pulled out his cell phone, called someone, and eventually found his way to an area rife with people, smells, merchandise and music. He pulled up to the curb, jumped out and ran around to the passenger side of the yellow cab to help us disembark. He pointed to a large kiosk about fifty yards down the street that had a prominent sign which said, in English, "Tourist Information."

"Oh, thank you, thank you," we yammered as we handed him 25,000 South Korean Won (approx. $20 US), asking if that was enough (or, more accurately: "IS... THAT... ENOUGH?") Our driver absolutely refused to take our money. Instead, he backed away from us, bowing respectfully and waving toward the kiosk. Despite our best attempts insisting he take the cash, he was soon back in his vehicle rapidly pulling into traffic. We looked at each other - looked back at the yellow car, whose commercial graphics suddenly seemed to sport more of a race car enterprise than a taxi theme - and simultaneously recognized what had just happened. Cabs in Seoul, by the way, happen to be RED. Oopsie.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A quality I particularly admire in Julie is her ability to set a goal and stick with it. Not long before we took that trip, Julie had been looking ahead and decided that she was going to welcome her upcoming 40s by becoming a smaller version of her fine self. As anyone who has tried to lose even ten pounds knows, this can be a daunting undertaking. As she does with most projects, she did her homework and made a plan. In addition to assuming discipline about all things edible, she made a New Year's resolution last year that not only would she commit to regular gym workouts, she would log 500 miles of walking on her "Nike+" sports kit by June 1. That's an average of 2.7 miles a day, but who's counting? Not only did she achieve that goal, but she welcomed her big 4-0 being at least 4-0 lbs lighter. The truly amazing part is that she actually made it look like fun.

This year, she went one better. Why walk when you can run? A couple of weeks ago, my friend finished a 1/2 Marathon. 13.1 miles without stopping. And, by the way, she's now down about 70 pounds.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So, Ms. Bossy-boss (I didn't say she was perfect, did I?) - in case you're reading this... Be aware that you have become my inspiration to address the extra "me" that has developed around my middle over the past few years. And while I'm not committing to any 1/2 Marathons, I do plan to welcome my upcoming "zero birthday" a bit healthier and lighter. Thanks for being yourself, Sista.

Oregon in Spring

2009-05-08T15:44:00.000-07:00

Seems like we've had even more than our usual amount of rain this season, a cause for widespread grousing. But today, its a balmy 70ish, sunny day - a great day for watching the garden open up. Aaaaaah...

"April comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers." - Edna St. Vincent Millay

2009-03-31T20:31:00.000-07:00

This blogger came into March like a lamb, so will try to be more lion-esque on the way out. Prideful, if you will.

To begin with, good riddance March. I’m more than ready for a bit of warmth and watching the local fauna come to life. Dining and drinking on the patio, watching kids play t-ball, and falling asleep before it gets dark – bring it on!

I usually don’t respond to weather or other outside influences; but as I think about it, it’s been a downer of a past few weeks. While thoroughly enjoying my “retired” state – I had been optimistic about finding some sort of part-time or temporary money-making gig, but the prospects have been drying up. In this wacko economy, nothing is playing out as expected. My gainfully employed friends and acquaintances are so overwhelmed by their workloads they barely answer emails. And for those of us looking for some enterprise, the pickins are slim, indeed. One friend actually fought off over 600 competitors for a part-time, minimum wage administrative job. Amazing. Another was more than happy to take a 5 week temporary assignment where her biggest challenge will be staying awake. I’ve just started to look into a somewhat entrepreneurial situation, which I will blog about later if I conjure up the chutzpah to give it a go.

Not having a demanding schedule does give one more time to read, and one book I can heartily recommend is Stubborn Twig by Lauren Kessler, which is the current selection for “Oregon Reads” (www.oregonreads2009.org). A well documented history of three generations of a Japanese American family that reads like a good novel, Kessler’s straightforward story-telling honors a family with a tradition of making the most out of life while simultaneously bluntly exposing the shameful treatment our fellow citizens received in the name of “national security.” Sadly, the lessons which seem so obvious in retrospect are apparently lost on our collective psyche where we, as a nation, continue to struggle with human rights issues –now with regard to so-called enemy combatants.

March also provided me with a quickie preview of What a Drag it is Getting Old (thanks, Mick). I tweaked my knee (old injury) and had to pull the old crutches out of the closet. Good news – I was able to see the good ortho surgeon quickly and get the dang thing scoped – and was back in business within days.

Tomorrow (April 1) is my favorite day of the year and I don’t even have a plan. No colleagues for whom I can leave a note on their desk to “call Mr. Lyons” and leave the number of the zoo. I’ll have to think of something.

March Forth!

2009-03-04T09:04:00.001-08:00

Happy Soldier's Day!
:)

Survey Says!

2009-02-28T17:47:00.000-08:00

I love getting those emailed surveys where you answer any number of inane questions, then forward to several friends and compare answers. In fact, I just responded to one today, and it occurred to me that this could be a fun way to generate some traffic here on “Dottier.” So, c’mon dear reader – don’t be shy. Join (start?) the fun. You should be able to copy/paste this survey into a comment box, then just delete my responses and insert your own.

************************************************************

1. What are you wearing right now?

blue jeans, black zippered hoodie, slippers

2. Describe your favorite sandwich

Warning – This will pretty much use up your daily calorie allotment, but here goes… start with a hoagie roll, slather with pizza sauce, layer a few slices of deli ham, genoa salami, pepperoni, add some chopped onions, mushrooms, & jalapeno peppers, cover with a big handful of shredded cheese (cheddar, jack &/or mozzarella). Wrap in aluminum foil and bake at 425 degrees for about 20 minutes. Enjoy!

3. Read the book or see the movie first?

Usually better to read the book first.

4. Rate the following on a scale of 1 to 5 (5 being highest) on how effective they are at improving your mood.

Shopping – 1

Strenuous workout – 5

Sleeping in – 2

Massage – 4

Adult beverage(s) – 5

Lunch date with good friend – 5

Throwing yourself into heavy-duty house cleaning, gardening or some such thing – 2

Cooking – 3

Going out for a movie by yourself – 4

5. When was the last time you went skinny dipping?

That may be covered by the “What happens in Vegas” rule, but it was in Traverse City and I was way older than high school.

6. Mounds Bar or Almond Joy?

Almond Joy

7. Which sentence better describes your attitude:

Pets are a necessary component to my overall happiness.

Why would anyone want to deal with cleaning up poop, animal hair, and vet bills? (this is me!)

8. Name five of your favorite recording artists:

Lyle Lovett, Kris Kristopherson, Mark Knauffler, Rolling Stones, Johnny Cash….egad, I have at least 100 more!

9. Must See TV?

The News Hour and 60 Minutes

10. If you won the lottery big, what is the first thing you’d do.

Hide my ticket in a safe deposit box and get my financial adviser to help me plan how to give some of it away to my kids and sibs, then go on a long trip before settling back into my life of leisure (and philanthropy, of course!)

Okay…. YOUR TURN!

Senior Dating

2009-02-25T16:29:00.000-08:00

I’m often amused by married people's view of the state of Singleness. It seems to conjure up some combination of odd, pitiful, enviable and mysterious. Invariably, they pose The Question, “Why isn’t a nice gal like you married?” How does one answer that?

The coupled world looks at being single as something to fix. There’s an underlying premise that one is “completed” by having a partner. I understand many advantages, even well after child producing years. Sharing expenses and household chores, a ready date for movies and concerts, avoiding the Single’s surcharge on trips, reliable intimacy; are all positive cases for marriage. Any number of surveys purport to show through scientific analysis that married people are empirically happier than single people. I question the conclusions, considering most of the folks who are incarcerated, homeless, or severely disabled/ill are more likely lumped in with the singles, thereby bringing down the happiness averages. Or perhaps the studies are conducted right after tax season.

Still, even blissfully committed single people are occasionally lured into the dating world. That’s why there’s not a strong Singles lobby – most Singles consciously or subconsciously expect that their status will change at some point. Married people may have the same secret dreams about their condition, but with obvious negative consequences for revealing them.

Dating in the 21st century, especially once college is over, generally starts with an on-line hook-up. Whatever stigma once existed has been replaced by the clichéd and hackneyed observation, “I don’t want to hang out in bars” as if bars were a bad place to hang out and the only place where human commerce takes place. (However, when you and cyber-man make arrangements to meet, invariably it’s in a bar). To the uninitiated, the process may be intimidating. But most quickly realize that by relying on your innate good judgment and common sense about how much information to share, spending an hour in a public place with someone who passed your initial smell test is not all that difficult.

Personally, I continue to be amazed at how many smart, personable, successful and decent gentlemen there are right here in Portland who I have absolutely no interest in getting to know further than that first meeting, i.e. to date. I know when we get to the “let’s do this again sometime” part that I will screen the call and/or not respond to the email. Some have called me picky, shallow – or even anti-social – perhaps so. I just haven’t adjusted to men my age looking like older men. I realize they are looking at a woman of a “certain age” but from the inside-out view, my outlook is about twenty years off. Besides, in this blind date scenario, both parties are essentially sizing up the other (Would I? Could I?), something that was much more likely to get a “maybe so” when both were in our prime. Couples that have grown up together likely still look at each other and see the youthful face they fell in love with. I think that’s why we so often hear about people rekindling old relationships when they run into former loves at school reunions. They can see that handsome young thing behind the jowls, reading glasses, balding heads and expansive bellies.

Despite my pessimism, every several months or so, I give it a go; update my profile, pay for a couple of months of some dating website and start the exploration. Amazingly, a few weeks ago, I hit the dating jackpot. I found my soul-mate, and he makes “later middle age” look amazing. Handsome, fit, intelligent, funny, well dressed, educated – the dude had it all. To add to the fun, he said and did all the right things. By our second date, I knew I would have to figure out how to deal with a bit less of my precious solitude, and I was only partially concerned. I knew I had to go slow, but I was up for it.

So, of course, he didn’t call back. Karma got me. Back to the drawing board.

Anyone know any cute grandpas out there?

Once a Luddite, always a Luddite

2009-02-09T17:04:00.000-08:00

I fully recognize that stories about the agonies of trying to get tech support are about as interesting as listening to other peoples' dreams or travel snafus, so I’ll spare you.

But why, oh why, does it have to be so difficult to do things like hook up your blackberry to your home email? Convenience, indeed.

It’s worth it to have a job if only to have your own geeks to call.

Ah well… back to reentering everyone’s digits into new cell phone.

Dead Poets

2009-02-04T13:29:00.000-08:00

For the better part of a week now, I find myself being a little bit sad about the death of John Updike. Is this just a case of too much time on my hands? After all, it’s not like I knew the man – or, in fact – even knew all that much about him. Truth be told, other than the four Rabbit books, I never could get past the first few chapters of any of his others. Yes, I liked to read his criticism and enjoyed listening to interviews, but it wasn’t so much that I felt affection for John Updike. No, crazier than that, it was his fictional creation, Harry Angstrom (“Rabbit”) who pulled my heart strings.

In case you’re not familiar, Rabbit is the hero (well, more accurately, lead character) in a series of novels Updike wrote between 1960 – 90 about Rabbit. When we meet him, he's in his mid-20s, and he's already past his prime. Rabbit's life’s accomplishments pretty much peaked when he was a high school basketball star in a medium-small Pennsylvania town. From there, things essentially went downhill – at least in terms of how “accomplishment” is generally defined in America between the 60s to the 90s. Whatever you say about Updike (and Norman Mailer, not to mention many feminists, had a lot of negative things to say), it’s hard to argue with the grace of his writing. Some find his use of symbolism too obvious; i.e., Harry ANGSTtrom or his basketball mentor, Coach Tothero (“tot hero”), but I always found it added an amusing touch and certainly didn’t distract.

The Rabbit Trilogy-plus-One books are among the novels that I have to reread every few years to kind of reset my brainwaves. Like Doc from Steinbeck’s Tortilla Flats, Yossarian from Joseph Heller’s Catch 22, and Huck Finn; Rabbit is one of those guys, however fictional, that I can’t live without.

And as I’ve been thinking about this for the past several days, I’m a bit bemused by the theme here. I mean, none of these guys’ resumes especially speak of greatness. Rabbit, for example, is kind of a Bill Clinton type, minus the brilliance. I’d have cast James Caan to play him on screen – if there had ever been such a project. I’m a little bummed that there will never be a “Rabbit, Resurrected” but for now, re-reads will have to do.

Contributing to the local economy (by being dumb)

2009-01-23T12:12:00.001-08:00

The second floor of my modest home is a nicely redone attic. The previous owner did most of the work himself, and the space is comfortable and cozy. Instead of bringing central heat up from the basement, which would have been much more costly, the heat is provided by an in-the-wall electric heater.

Well, early last fall, the heater stopped working. Initially, I investigated the feasibility of connecting to the furnace and/or installing central air conditioning, etc. After speaking with a couple of contractors, I decided it wasn't worth the investment right now, so I'd just get the wall heater fixed. Only, I kept putting it off. Throughout this winter, my upstairs has not had heat. Throw a couple extra blankets on the bed and its perfectly comfortable for sleeping, if a bit chilly getting ready in the morning. During our big Arctic Blast around Christmas, I just used the downstairs guest room. Why did I put off fixing the heater? Because I kept forgetting to call a handyman -- the only time I'd think about it was when I was getting ready to pack it in for the night. So, five or six months later, I finally arranged to have an electrician come by today... he was here for approximately 5 minutes.

Seems the "reset" button needed pressing.

Oy.

It's OBAMA Time!

2009-01-18T17:47:00.000-08:00

I sincerely hope people caught the “We Are One” concert today. If not, check your local listings or favorite internet sites – what a treat. My kind of patriotism. What a treat to see the likes of Sheryl Crow and Will.I.Am in a duet covering Bob Marley’s One Love, not to mention Herbie Hancock accompanying on piano. Or, Bon Jovi and Bettye Lavette’s perfectly cool collaboration on Sam Cooke’s Change Is Gonna Come. And perhaps it’s my latent hippie roots, but I was actually moved to tears watching Pete Seeger, with a lot of help from his grandson and Bruce Springsteen, leading the million-plus crowd in a happy rendition of Woody Guthrie’s This Land Is Your Land, a tune that would be my preference for our national anthem, to be sure. And, I didn’t even cry when Harry met Sally. All this, plus Tom Hanks, Samuel L. Jackson, Tiger Woods, Stevie Wonder, Bono and The Edge, Mary J. Blige…lots of fun. Interesting to see MLKIII with his Burberry scarf – I love style as much as anyone, but I did experience a bit of symbolic dissonance. Nevertheless, a fine show.

I don’t know where Willie Nelson, Paul Simon or Bob Dylan were – maybe they’ll show up later in the week.

Before the concert, my favorite radio station did a lead-in featuring Barack Obama’s (supposed) Top Ten favorite songs. It occurred to me when they played Springsteen’s I’m On Fire, one of the sexiest songs ever written, what a change he represents. Can you imagine if Bill Clinton had listed that one? I think not.

Inaugurals and Oscars

2009-01-17T19:06:00.000-08:00

“Water boarding is torture” is the phrase from Eric Holder (Atty Gen candidate) that will go down in history, but my personal favorite was his unequivocal “I made a mistake.” Not “mistakes were made” or any other weasel words, but full acknowledgement that he should have studied the matter further and been responsible. As one who fully recognizes that most of the lessons I’ve learned the best are the ones that came from doing something wrong, I have great confidence in this guy.

So why can’t I get over Timothy Geithner’s tax problems? I’ve long been a critic of the fact that Americans have to pay tax preparers then pay our taxes because of the overly complex and complicated tax code. It’s ridiculous that citizens can be held criminally liable for misinterpreting the arcane and ambiguous IRS regs. Having been bamboozled myself over terms like “cost basis,” I can understand how even a smart guy could make errors. However, I am quite sure that if it were a Bush appointee for Secretary of Treasury who had failed to fully pay his taxes until the vetting committee discovered the “errors,” I’d have jumped on the inevitable feeding frenzy from the late night comics or right-wing commentators. With Geithner, supporters from across the spectrum seem to be willing to give him a pass on this… I hope he’s okay, but it doesn’t pass the smell test. I’m nervous.

Hillary demonstrated exactly why she’s the perfect Secretary of State. I swear she has a wonk chip embedded someplace – good lord, is there anything she doesn’t know? (If so, I guess she could call Al Gore). Some of her Senate colleagues tried to make Bill’s fundraising an issue, but she was able to fend them off credibly. I hope they figure out how to exploit Bill’s talents for the greater good. (Not to mention Jimmy Carter’s).

Dubya’s embarrassing final news conference and self-serving farewell address only reinforced how grateful I am to be able to say PRESIDENT Obama in a few short days. I’ll be plopped down in front of my TV set, with NPR in the background for at least all of Tuesday. I’m even considering contacting Comcast to see if I can add HBO for a few days to catch some of the events. It really sucks that everything isn’t on the public airwaves.

Oscar run up…
Understand, for me, Academy Awards night is sort of like the Super Bowl is to most American men. I fully realize it’s a bunch of hooey, but I am an unabashed fan. To that end, I’ve tried to catch as many likely nominations as I can and offer a few thoughts…

· Sure, we all love to watch Clint Eastwood, but let’s not pretend he’s a “great” actor or director. Yes, he’s had some good ones (“Mystic River”, “Unforgiven”) but this latest one, “Gran Torino”, is even more formulaic and far-fetched than “Million Dollar Baby.” Geez, if this movie or his performance gets “best” recognition, bring on Steven Seagal, for Pete’s sake.

· My favorite part of “Slum Dog Millionaire” was hearing the game show host pronounce “millonair.” Can Danny Boyle even do a movie without shi-zatt as a prop? I’ll give it an A for originality, but other than that, I don’t get the hype.

· Michelle Williams for Best Actress in “Wendy and Lucy” and (of course) Sean Penn for Best Actor for “Milk.”

· Philip Seymour Hoffman and Meryl Streep were both the definition of emoting in “Doubt.”

· I can’t even bring myself to watch “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button” but would support Brad Pitt as Best Supporting Actor for “Burn After Reading.” What the heck, let’s honor Frances McDormand for that flick, too, if only for being able to make her affair with George Clooney seem credible.

· Was “Australia” really that bad? I kind of liked it.

Blah Blah Blog

2009-01-12T15:17:00.000-08:00

First post of 2009.... better late than never? I've been waiting for some pics from my New Years Ski weekend, but they are still "in the mail." You can’t imagine what an incentive it is to have received THREE emails from actual Dottier readers requesting a post. They like me! They really, really like me! Okay. Sorry.

Light bulbs - I saw an article recently in a national publication about non-incandescent light bulbs. The writer was offering decorating tips to improve their coolness factor (as relating to being hip – nothing to do with temperature). Prior to that, I had no idea they were NOT something that all the Cool Kids were installing. Apparently, unbeknownst to me, a light bulb shaped like a pear is more visually pleasing than one shaped like a coil. Who knew? Here in SE Portland, Green is the Scene. You haven’t really arrived until your roof sprouts vegetables and your counter top compost is in place. And, let’s face it, the coil-shaped lights don’t put out quite the same level of light as the old ones. So unless you’re performing surgery or something, it can be an advantage. If you can’t see those gray roots very well, for instance, less color touch up needed. See?

Cell phone talkers – why has society widely accepted the premise that one person talking into a cell phone in a public place is obnoxious while two people carrying on an inane conversation is somehow acceptable? Really, if you happen to be alone trying to read your newspaper and drink your coffee in peace, aren't both scenarios are equally off-putting? My theory is that we’re offended by the cell phone talker because we can’t hear the other person. Our voyeurism is compromised. Listening in on two idiots yabbering is much more satisfying? I think not. My own annoyance level skyrockets when forced to wait for a flight with all the airline televisions blaring Fox News at full blast. I swear I'm going to get one of those stealth universal remotes and learn to surreptitiously hit the OFF button while keeping it hidden in my purse. Glee.

Older than the president – like many front-end boomers, I realized recently that come next Tuesday, I will be older than the US President for the first time. This reminded me of a conversation on this phenomenon with my late mother. She was lamenting the milestones of aging. First you’re older than the cops, then the doctors, then eventually, the President. “But you know you’re REALLY old,” she commented, “when you’re older than the Pope.” Why that’s so dang funny, I can’t explain, but it is.

War? (good god, y’all) Hmmmph! What is it good for? The message of Edwin Starr’s funky hit song is so ridiculously simplistic and audaciously precise, no wonder the obvious response is “Right On!” The current events in Gaza are only the latest manifestation of this truism. On a smaller, but no less tragic scale, my home town is presently witness to escalated gang wars between the local Crips and Bloods. The death toll since the beginning of December is already close to double digits and no one – neighborhood leaders, clergy or even former gang members – can effect a truce. Watching what this does to the fragile commerce in the area -- not to mention the nerves of its residents, provides a certain window into what life must be like for your average Afghanistan, Iraqi, Palestinian or even Israeli. What is it good for? Absolutely Nothing! Say it again.

I'll light the fire AND place the fire in the vase...

2008-12-20T17:47:00.000-08:00

Last weekend, I mentioned that there was some snow in Portland. Let me tell you, today we REALLY have snow in Portland. I’ve cleaned off my front steps twice already and they are again covered.

This is serious stuff. Christmas parties have been cancelled and only the most adventurous, desperate or just plain crazy people are driving cars – and then, generally with chains on their tires. After moving to the Northwest from Michigan in 1995, one of my first “oh, this is a different place” realizations concerned tire chains. I may be mistaken, but I believe these devices are actually outlawed in The Wolverine State. Here in Oregon, they are required in certain situations. Road salt, on the other hand, is widely eschewed. In general, if it snows here, it rarely sticks and when it does, it’s only for a day or two. But this time, on the eve of winter’s official arrival, we’ve got some serious need for shovels.

As one who has plenty of “supplies” laid in (i.e., we’re not out of wine), and who has no real outside obligations, it’s a rather pleasant interlude. The furnace is working, a new Netflix movie arrived in the mail and I’ve got two books going.

On a walk yesterday, I also rediscovered one of my favorite winter amusements. That is, when walking on a snow-covered sidewalk, find a set of footprints. Then, match your gait to those – place your right next to their left, your left next to their right, etc. The result will be the impression someone hopped down the street. Seriously, you have better things to do?

Preachers and Senators

2008-12-18T16:17:00.000-08:00

Apparently a lot of liberals (a camp I proudly place myself in) are more than a little annoyed with our Pres-to-be for asking evangelical preacher Rick Warren to lead the invocation at his Inaugural. I won’t lie to you; when I initially heard about it, I was a bit miffed myself. The symbolism of having a guy who is determinedly anti-gay and anti-choice handed the honor of blessing this historic moment is discomfiting, at best. I would have expected a Jessie Jackson-type or another prominent African American icon to have been selected. After some consideration and, more precisely, after hearing from Obama himself about the selection, my faith in this guy’s vision and leadership is even further reinforced. First of all, the Reverend Joseph Lowry, considered by many to be the current dean of the Civil Rights movement, will also offer a blessing during the events. But more important was To Be’s simple explanation; that is, we have to push ourselves out of our narrow comfort zones and seek areas of agreement rather than focus continually on what divides us. Rick Warren, while holding views on some topics which I find patently abominable, is also known for his commitment to fighting AIDS and advocating for personal responsibility and community involvement. Allowing him to have a prominent part in this historic event not only sends a message of inclusion to those on the right, but it reminds folks like me that we aren’t going to solve any of the enormous problems we face unless we can find ways to work together. Moreover, his presence does nothing to change mine – or Barack Obama’s, I suspect – commitment and support for rights for gays and women. This is the same guy who promised us that he would use diplomacy ahead of warfare when dealing with our enemies, so what’s so surprising about praying with a fellow American with whom he happens to disagree on some serious issues?

For what it’s worth, I wouldn’t have gone with Aretha, either, but there you go.

Another big cause of debate this week has been Caroline Kennedy’s foray into the political scene with her announcement that she would like to be appointed as Hillary Clinton’s replacement in the Senate. I’m trying to do some self-reflection to understand why I’m so blatantly gung-ho in favor of the idea. It can’t be completely about the emblematic vision of her six-yr-old self standing next to her mother with her white hair bow and classic wool coat as President Kennedy’s funeral procession went by, can it? Her own grown up gracefulness, while so compelling, is hardly the stuff great Senators are made of, is it? And, after all, from one who went with Obama over Clinton during the primaries (after the non-reality of a Kucinich presidency finally took hold) primarily because Obama was not a legacy or “dynasty” candidate; I have to cop to some inconsistency. After all, Ms. Kennedy holds a law degree, is a respected and competent fund-raiser, published author and certainly has benefitted from growing up around some of the most legendary politicians of our lifetime. Seemingly, she’s learned something. And, unless I’m forgetting something, I’m not sure there was an equivalent furor when her late younger (and decidedly less accomplished) brother was being encouraged to seek office, with or without Daryl Hannah on his arm. And, let’s not even bring up the Cousin-ater in California. Ah, Sexism isn’t dead. In any event, I’m not sure why – and I’m not a New Yorker anyway – but I rather hope we see another woman from an ex-President’s family in the Senate next year.

NOT Jenna Bush, by the way.

It’s snowing in Portland today…

2008-12-14T17:25:00.000-08:00

And, boy, does that change everything. It’s been thirteen years since I lived in Michigan where a day like today is just a normal December day and man-oh-man, has the wimp factor ever set it. In fact, getting out and about on a day like this was something of a badge of honor, as I recall. One certainly wouldn’t consider not going to work, for instance, if that was normally on the day’s agenda. What a difference a few years makes.

I was up early this morning, and after discovering I had no milk for coffee, I did head out to my local coffee shops for a to-go latte and a bagel. After a couple hours snuggled up with the newspaper (including the NYT crossword, of course), I realized that it had started to snow. Without the slightest amount of deliberation, the concept of driving to 10:30am Spinning class was a non-starter. I did manage to bundle up and walk to the local grocery store to replenish a few staples (and a nice little Cornish hen to bake for dinner). My two mile (round-trip) hike made me feel like Nanuck of the North. The bravery I demonstrated (to myself) was admirable, if exaggerated.

One of the draws for me when I relocated to the Northwest was the weather. We have four seasons here, too, but its so much more civilized. Winter temps generally stay between 40-50 degrees Fahrenheit. A lot of my fellow Portlanders get a little drained with the near constant precipitation (it’s so low key I can’t even call it rain), but as so many East coast and Midwest transplants say, “at least you don’t have to shovel it.” And, let’s face it, there’s a significant difference between 40 degrees and what we have going on today (20 something), which is somewhat of a good day in Michigan during winter. I cringe to think about my daughter and sisters and brothers and grandchildren and friends and enemies even who still live in “The Winter Wonderland (aka, Michigan).” And what about my friends in Minnesota? Or Connecticut? You get the point.

Weather like this makes one so smug about not being gainfully employed. All I have to negotiate tomorrow is whether or not (I just accidently typed “weather or not” – funny) to drive the three miles to work out with my trainer (maybe I’ll take the bus), and drop off some Christmas items at the local UPS Store (I’m still in the earlier zone, so that can wait a few days). If I decide to blow off both, I will credit my good common sense for staying off the roads. I will also try to recognize that I am, perhaps purposefully, exaggerating the threat. Let it snow…let it snow… let it snow.
____________________________________________
PS – on a completely unrelated note, I cannot stop laughing at the story of Dubya being pelted by the size 10 shoes of an Iraqi reporter at his “victory lap” surprise press conference today. That’s the best Bush news since ‘41’ puked at the State dinner.

Here's one from the "Are you kidding me?" department

2008-12-06T13:54:00.000-08:00

I am not normally a big proponent of the slippery slope argument, so it's disconcerting to see such a slide in action. Here in my hometown, it’s the regional car dealers association that has an interesting proposal. Apparently our dealer friends, troubled by increasingly depressed car sales, would like to collectively close their doors on Sundays, ostensively to enable their overworked employees to have a day to "spend with their families." (Don't ask why the employees are so overworked if business is so slow). In any event, nice concept, right? So what's the issue? Evidently, to achieve this business reality, the dealers feel they have to rely on the State legislature to enact "blue laws" that would legally prevent car dealerships from doing business on Sundays. That's right, they want a law passed to compel them to close. The reasoning is that despite their concertive agreement that not much business is actually done on Sundays currently, they fear that if some of them decided to shutter their doors, others may not and, thereby, gain a competitive advantage. Holy Moley… is this what it's come to?

I hate to sink to sarcasm (well, not exactly), but c'mon, seriously? Really?

I recognize that the Portland area car dealer association isn't exactly the senior management of the Big Three automakers, but it makes me wonder if this isn't endemic of the kind of thinking pervasive throughout this industry. Where is the focus on developing a robust business plan and working the plan? Earth to Car Dealers: close your dang doors on Sundays - or Tuesdays - or whatever works for you. Do we really need to have our State legislature spend even one hour on this so-called dilemma? Ever try to run a restaurant in today's challenging economy? Guess what? A huge number of our town's eateries are closed on Mondays; some on Tuesdays, too. They figure, I guess, that with so few customers on these typically slow evenings, it's not worth it to open. Bravo for them. Likely the ones that opt to serve on the "slow nights" pick up some extra business. Good for them, too. Its what we call competition in our free-market society.

The current bail-out mentality is scary. To cop the same plea as WSJ columnist David Brooks, I don't consider myself wise enough or educated enough on economic theory to trust my opinion on whether the bailouts - I mean "rescue" plans - are good policy. But, I'm pretty sure they won't be over soon -- even after the Democrats capitulate by allowing some the $25B already earmarked for developing more environmentally friendly automobiles be used to bolster the Big Three. Maybe that's a good plan, but I can't get beyond the smell factor. What's next? Propping up The Gap and J.Jill?

In the meantime, whether new cars are available to purchase seven days a week or six, I'll be driving my 5-yr-old Jetta ("Joan") for the next several years to come. Therein, may lie the real problem.

A Recommendation

2008-11-30T15:47:00.001-08:00

Caveat: Unabashed, unapologetic Sean Penn fan here. Watching that man interpret a role, irrespective of the quality of the rest of the film, is a guilty pleasure I am always eager to indulge. This affection stretches back many years, even before the scene in The Interpreter where he's leaning against the rail letting Nicole Kidman say good-bye ( I wanted to jump into the screen); or as the anguished and desperate father discovering his daughter's murder in Mystic River, a portrayal that rendered his character's subsequent actions understandable and, indeed, sympathetic. Penn seems to have captured the essence of his character in Gus VanZant's sensitive biopic, Milk. In particular, it was enchanting to see him embody the sweetness of Harvey Milk, a touch reminiscent of his Emmet Ray, the fictional jazz guitarist/dreamer in Woody Allen's otherwise ordinary Sweet and Lowdown.

Beyond Penn, the story of Harvey Milk is the quintessential American story depicting the life and struggle of an important hero in our ongoing struggle for civil rights, and VanZant tells it captivatingly. The performances are authentic and Milk's underlying message rings through. That is; once the world knows us, it will be impossible for it to be against us. Such an easy lesson and one that we humanoids continue to have to rediscover over and over again. I haven't heard from Aunt Japan yet (http://dottier.blogspot.com/2008/08/aunt-japans-rating-system.html), but I'm fairly confident you won't feel anyone owes you a cent after this one.

gobble gobble

2008-11-27T12:58:00.000-08:00

The turkey is roasting in the oven. The stuffing and green bean casserole (updated, fresh version, of course) are teed up to be transported to another oven shortly. In a couple of hours, the car caravan to my daught's house, normally a short 2 minute walk, will commence. There, we'll gather with some favorite family friends and a recently relocated cousin and fiance'. The table has been set with her late, great grandmother-in-law's elegant gold-trimmed china and adorned with fresh flowers, candles, linen table cloth, elaborately folded and beribboned napkins, and place cards proudly crafted by 7-yr-old Vivi. The girls will all be a little dressier than usual and the boys will be focusing some amount of attention on the doomed Detroit Lions or less-likely-to-be-losing Dallas Cowboys.

Center attraction will be the big bird that is presently infusing my home with that amazing "Today's Thanksgiving" aroma. Sharing the stage will be the deep fried beauty my son-in-law is in charge of. We'll load up the buffet with the shrimp and crab meat appetizers, cream-cheesy mashed potatoes, baked root veggies, cornbread, cranberry sauce, strawberry jello salad, rolls, gravy, aforementioned beans and stuffing, wine for the big kids, cider for the little ones, and so far, three homemade pies (pecan, marionberry, and key lime). Ah... what a day not to be a vegetarian. This morning's lame walk/run workout will not begin to counteract the impact of the feast.

I'm looking forward to the go-around-the-table declarations of what each person is thankful for. The kids will be funny, no doubt someone will mention our new Pres-to-be, and we'll give props to each other and those we love who aren't with us in person, many of whom will check in or be tracked down by telephone throughout the day.

Most of the rest of my fellow Americans will be engaged in similar activity today. For a few hours, we'll collectively try to forget that it is a fragile time; and painful to realize that for many of us, it's just another day of hunger, loneliness or despair. Today, I'm grateful for the privileged life I get to lead, despite the precipitous decline in 401(k)s, ongoing war and all the real economic problems we face.

Today I'm just happy to be grateful.

Does one actually need a shredder?

2008-11-21T08:47:00.000-08:00

My grandson loves to "help" me with shredding. And, for the second time, his exuberance got the best of him and he flaunted the "no more than six sheets at at time" rule. After spending more time than I care to admit retrieving small wads of paper pieces from the shredder's rollers with a nut picker, its hopeless. It will work in reverse... not so helpful.

Now I'm left to wonder... do I replace it again? I've already jettisoned one hopelessly jammed paper shredder to sit rusting in a landfill for a couple of hundred years. If I don't shred my incredibly important bill-paying residue, will somebody really rifle through my recycling bin and make off with the scraps to steal my identity (and isn't it actually a bit of a compliment to think that someone would want to?)

What if I just made triple-sure to tear said shrapnel into smaller bits before disposing? Could I survive shredder-less? Will my decision not to replace this particular small appliance be the last straw for some Office Depot schedule writer, causing some hardworking knucklehead in Aisle Two to get pink-slipped? How long can I continue with these rhetorical questions? Forever?

I think I've talked myself into it. No New Shredder.

Senator Lieberman

2008-11-18T19:42:00.000-08:00

I have to admit a small amount of disappointment on hearing the news that Joe Lieberman was allowed to keep his important chairmanship of the Homeland Security (don't you hate that term?) committee. To indulge in a cliché, look up "righteousness" in the dictionary and you'll find the senator's mug.

Prior to his sermon on the floor of the Senate during the build-up to the Clinton impeachment, I had a vague impression of Senator Joe as being one of the good guys. And, in fact, he is. But, damn, what a pain in the ass. He reminds me of his good buddy, John McCain, as someone who relies on strategically positive headlines. What a devoted, sincere guy who will walk the five miles to the Capital on a Saturday to preserve his religious commitment to keeping the Sabbath holy. Well, lah dee dah. Its right up there with the devotion we're supposed to feel for that other Senator Joe - Joe the Biden, as I've learned the McCain campaign folks loved to call him (I like the joke) - for his use of commuter trains between Delaware and Washington. Well, BFD...

Al Gore, mistakenly in my opinion, tapped into the goodness image of Leiberman when he ran in 2000. I can't posit that he hurt Gore (Gore did that on his own by abandoning his personality and ceding to handlers), but it certainly was a boring choice.

When Lieberman was justly denied the opportunity to run for reelection as a Democrat in 2004 when the citizens of Connecticut failed to support him in the primary due to his obstinant support for the Iraq war, he ran as an Independent and won. For the most part, after that, he continued to act as a Democrat, but maintained his resolute hawkishness with military policy. Thus, his connection with McCain deepened. How weird it must have felt for him to take the podium at the Republican National Convention to endorse his lifelong political opponents. Politics can be an ugly profession.

And, frankly, I don't really care. One of the most distasteful phrases on the political front, in my opinion, is "released to vote one's conscience." This is generally used when the vote counters recognize that they can get their way with or without an individual lawmaker's vote. Idealistic that I am, I kind of like to think they vote their conscience every time. Right.

So today, Sen. Joe gets to talk about "reconciliation not retribution." But spare me speeches about "uniting to solve our problems" and all the rest. The Senator was spared because, as of this writing, the Democrats are just two short of a filibuster-proof assembly, with two races yet to be resolved. It isn't so much about Obama wanting to forgive and forget… it's all about practical politics.

What I love about the whole situation is that it allows me to reference one of my all time favorite quotes from LBJ, "better to have him inside the tent pissing out than outside the tent pissing in." Beautiful.

PS - I highly recommend picking up the Nov. 17 copy of Newsweek. It’s the one with The One on the cover (white background and ".44" next to His image). The entire issue is devoted to the accounts of reporters who were give unfiltered access to both campaigns in exchange for their commitment to withhold publishing details until after the election. Fascinating stuff. And for the wordsmiths out there, extra thrills… this is very well written. I was sent to the dictionary at least a dozen times.

Luddite's Lament

2008-11-12T18:24:00.000-08:00

There are a lot of really scary things to worry about, but what's preoccupying my worry gene lately is the inevitable demise of the daily newspaper. Oh, I know how to sign in to newyorktimes.com or find the Drudge Report or the Onion. And, I do. But nothing is more satisfying than cozying up in an overstuffed chair with the morning paper on your lap and, perhaps, a burning candle and cup of coffee on the table nearby. Make it a rainy morning and I dare anyone to improve the scene.

I fully understand that The Oregonian is not exactly a first tier publication. It has its virtues, though, not the least of which is its pre-dawn arrival on my front porch. And, hell, I grew up on The Grand Rapids Press, not exactly the paragon of journalism. I don't care. The local, daily paper has been a consistent part of my life for more years than care to admit.

As a kid, it was primarily about the Sunday funnies (we called them the comics). My sibs and I divided up the three pages of color print and took turns perusing Peanuts, Rex Parker, and Archie and his Friends. I'm not much into comics now except that Doonesbury is a fixture and Zits is worth a look. One of my sisters credits Tank McNamara as the source for everything she knows about Sports (and she can hold her own).

I've already confessed my crossword puzzle jones on this site; and believe me, finding and printing free ones from crosswords.com on 8 x 11 inch computer paper doesn't compare to the ecstasy of folding the classified section and working the puzzle in ink.

And, yes, there is the news and the "style" section. Rarely do I really discover "news" here. In fact, I've generally already heard the stories on the radio or TV. But sitting down and reading the pulpy paper that leaves black ink on your hands (and throw blankets, if you're not careful) just seems so much more official. I don't know if I'll search for columnists online when the paper is finally dead. I guess I'll have to evolve, but it will be worse than succumbing to the cell phone, something that's only happened in the past half-decade.

Increasingly, as I learn about layoffs at major papers, or announcements like the recent one from the Christian Science Monitor going all online, I know its coming. And its a bummer. I'll survive. But I won't be happy about it.

friggen' crossword puzzles...

2008-11-08T15:19:00.000-08:00

one reason my life will never result in widely read obituaries is that I can spend hours trying to figure out a clue for a four letter word for "Trix alternative."

seemed likely to me that LIFE, CHEX, POST or even BRAN or OATS had to fit; but nooooo - the winner was "ENNE" (feminine word ending). aaaaaggghh!

I do realize I need a job or a life or something.

The Sanctimony of Marriage

2008-11-06T16:45:00.000-08:00

So lost was I in the euphoria of the Obama election Tuesday, it wasn't until midday Wednesday that I realized that the California's Proposition 8 which sought to overturn the State's Supreme Court decision that protected marriage for Gays had passed. Worse, similar proposals banning Gay marriage passed in Florida and Arizona; and, astonishingly, Arkansas voters approved a measure outlawing Gays and Lesbians from adopting children. This, on the same day we finally broke the most significant color barrier is beyond irony. I guess if you're Gay, its more about being in the Home of the Brave than the Land of the Free.

As a single person for all but seven of my adult life, I admit I have a different view of the institution. I trust there are a lot of happy unions. My parents seemed to have a good thing going, and it pleases me to observe that both my daughters and three of my sibs appear to have found a degree of happiness and satisfaction with their respective mates. Truthfully though, there aren't too many couples I know that cause me to be envious of their gig. And yet… c'est la vie, let it be, live and let live, de gustibus non est disputandum (look it up), etc.

I try with every ounce of patience I can conjure up to try to understand what impact two people of the same sex marrying has on the marriage of two people of the opposite sex. The closest thing I can find is that it somehow contradicts the Bible or some other religious teaching. Okay. But we live under a constitution that separates Church and State, not to mention that the California constitution guarantees equal protection for all its citizens.

I understand how one can be uncomfortable with same sex orientation just as I can understand how we can draw back around anyone with whom we are not familiar. Such is the basic argument for expanding our thinking and seeking understanding. Arbitrary prohibitions and interdictions based on gender, race, national origin, orientation, physical ability are just plain bigoted. Recognizing it's an argument others have made with much more eloquence, what causes such an uproar when Jack and Joe want to form a union but it's just good beauty salon reading when Brad leaves Jennifer for Angelina? If marriage is so dang sacred, why allow divorce at all? And please tell the adopted children of every Gay couple you know that their mommies or daddies are not worthy of them. Especially considering all the extra married people standing in line ready to take over.

It's time to put an end to the double standards on this issue. Just as we have come to regret rounding up Japanese-Americans during WWII based on their nationality or pat ourselves on the back for electing a Black President, we will eventually recognize that our Gay and Lesbian brothers and sisters deserve to be full citizens as well. Policies and laws like "Don’t Ask Don't Tell" or Civil Union in lieu of marriage are the 3/5ths rules of our era. (Aside… imagine what the 70s anti-war draft dodgers could have done with DADT…kind of fun).

How about we decouple religion from the issue altogether and everyone can have a Civil Union under the law? Any couples who want to would be free to "bless" the union within their church, synagogue, mosque or whatever… bring on the parties.

Better yet, what say we treat all adults (even those of us who remain single) equally and end the special preference altogether. Now we're talking.

Random Reflections

2008-11-05T14:16:00.000-08:00

After Pennsylvania, I started to relax a bit... after Ohio, I opened the champagne.
Some TV commentators on NBC, I think, seem befuddled with exit poll info claiming 30% of the White SC voters who had listed race as a very important consideration went for Obama. What is so difficult to understand here? I believe people of good will do not select people because of race, but all things being equal, isn't it natural to root for the underdog?
When will our politicos learn the lesson of letting candidates just be themselves? McCain's concession speech was marked with such honor and grace it took me aback. I've often wondered if Al Gore and John Kerry had demonstrated their real personalities -- as opposed to strict adherence to scripted talking points -- what a different decade we might have had.
Let's hope Sarah Palin finds a talk show on some Fox cable channel and doesn't emerge as the replacement senator from Alaska on her way to 2012.
Let's give it up for Howard Dean, David Plouffe, David Axelrod, Rahm Emanuel and the rest of the team. Holla!
Can we all admit that its okay to recognize that Harvard educated liberals are actually a lot smarter than Joe the Plumber? Could it be the time for the anti-intellectual crowd to lose its cache? Two of our least educated presidents (Lincoln, Truman) engaged in life long pursuits of knowledge.
Watching Obama addressing the crowd - indeed, the world -- from Grant Park was beyond inspirational. Quite a different tone from the last time I was happy about a presidential race; the 1992 dancing on the governor's mansion lawn in Arkansas to the strains of "Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow." Don't get me wrong -- I'm still a huge fan of BC (despite his low moments during the primaries) -- but this guy ("Him") seems thoughtful, serious and truly motivated to lead us to the kind of change we covet.
Speaking of the Clintons, I would have liked to have cut away to them for a check-in last night. I hope they are serious about working with the new administration. I love thinking about what a Clinton/Carter ex-presidential-ambassadors-at-large tour could do.
I confess that I breathed a small sigh of relief when I realized he was speaking from a podium surrounded by what I assume was bullet proof glass.
Not everything can be perfect. Admit it, Michelle's dress was a real Chloe Sevigny moment. Can't win them all.
Barack's comment on making good on his puppy promise was what made me cry. And I don't even like animals that much.
Running around today and engaging in small spurts of short talk with both strangers and acquaintances has been amazing. I haven't felt this connected to "my fellow Americans" since the days after 911. I hope we don't blow it this time.

Election Night 7PM Pacific Standard Time

2008-11-04T18:52:00.000-08:00

okay... with what's been called to this minute, plus the so-called "guaranteed" states, we've got it.

I'm opening my champagne! seriously, I can't remember ever being happier about anything political.

what a great day!

2 weeks to go...

2008-10-21T21:25:00.000-07:00

Both parents died in October... my mother 10 years ago today. She believed in divine interventions. I'm hoping she's working on fixing the elections (and is more effective than the Republicans).

AAAAAaaaaarrrggghhh!

2008-10-04T16:42:00.001-07:00

Why do computers have to be sooooo frustrating? I happen to have two... one uses a broadband connection; the other, a wireless connection. If there is a way for them to be "networked" together, I don't know it. So, I've loaded pictures for a couple of posts in draft phase on the one with the wireless connection. Then, all of a sudden, it starts sending error messages saying that my settings are not correct for the wireless. Hunh? I did nothing, I swear.

Having little or no appetite for computer technical talk, I'm at a loss. I mean, is an adapter the same thing as a plug? What does ethernet mean, anyway? I really need a teenage boy in my life right now. oy.

Meet the Tonys

2008-09-28T16:42:00.000-07:00

On Sunday mornings when I was a kid, my father would take my five siblings and me to Reilly's Drug Store where we each got to pick out five pieces of penny candy and share sips of his bottle of Pepsi. Last of the big spenders, that guy. In truth, it was a much anticipated weekly trip, mostly for my mother. In addition to the candy, we were allowed to peruse the comic books while the Old Man held court with Reilly and other regulars. When it was time to leave Reilly to reclaim his serenity; my father, for dramatic impact, would stand by the store's front door and loudly count us kids off as we exited, ostensibly making sure he left with as many children as he came in with. Quite the comedian, that guy. Truthfully, if he'd tried to collect us by calling off our names, he would have screwed it up. Not that he wasn't completely present - quite the opposite - the man was the original new age dad. He was fully involved in all things family. Its just that if you ask any parent of a lot of kids, they'll admit to calling one by an other's name from time to time.

With just two offspring, I never had too much trouble keeping up; but it hit me a couple of years ago when for a short period of time, I had solo supervision of my first four g-kids. At the time, the age range was something like 8 mo to 4, and they were excited and rambunctious. Trying to herd them was a challenge, and somehow I lost all their names and just started calling them all Tony. This created much amusement, especially for the older two.... "Grandma called us TONY!" And not just "Tony." Somehow it all came out with some kind of Brooklyn or Jersey accent, like you might hear from one of Tony Soprano's colleagues. Since then, there has been added a fifth, and likely final Tony. And here they are:

Tony # 1 - Gabe (7 1/2)
Check out the smile... its a rare time when its missing. His aunt coined the phrase "Life's a Party when you're Gabe" soon after he enjoyed his first taste of solid food - the guy was ecstatic. It was noted that if banana cereal gets a guy this excited, look out when he goes to his first kegger. Gabe's now a second grader, immersed into all the things second grade boys do... soccer, basketball, on-line Scrabble, Chess, and, oh yeah, reading and all that other stuff.

The Girl Tony - Vivi (7)

Nothing says first grade like a gap-toothed smile. This year for Halloween, we won't need to carve a pumpkin - we'll just stick a candle in Vivi's mouth. Vivi loves all things "girlie" - one of her first spoken phrases was "omigod, cute!" Scary. At at the same time, she's an accomplished athlete on everything from bike riding, hanging from monkey bars or gracefully gliding down the green runs at Mt. Hood. Nobody - I mean nobody - cuddles better than Vivi. And, I gotta tell you, there's something incredibly thrilling when you're tucking a kid in at night and she says, "Grandma, can you sing 'Banjo on my knee?' " Ah, that's good stuff.

Tony #3 - Jonah (5)

As an infant, he refused to take a bottle from anyone except his mother, who happened to be nursing at the time. Not so helpful. At two, he grabbed onto the garage door as it was opening and rode it up until his mother turned around and found herself at eye level with him. When in preschool, he once surreptitiously dumped the contents of his lunchbox before leaving for school, replacing the with an entire Costco-sized box of fruit roll-ups. The teacher was impressed at snack time. I took him shopping once when he was clad in swim goggles, his superman cape and yellow rain boots. You argue with him. When asked how he liked his first day of kindergarten, he replied disapprovingly, "we didn't even learn how to read yet!" Suffice to say, its always a good idea to have had lots of sleep if you're spending a day with Jonah.

Tony #4 - Tommy (4)

Give him something to throw, ride, climb or run to and this guy is happy. I've never met anyone so comfortable in his own skin. While the consummate daredevil, he is also gentle and sensible. For example, he'll haul ass down the street on his two wheeler, but will stop obliging at the corner and wait patiently for the go-ahead to cross. Sometimes, he's so cool its hard to remember he's only four. I suspect he'll be an accomplished student, but I'm a positive that he'll be that guy you call when you want to go grab a beer, catch a game, or need help changing your tire.

Tony #5 - Michael (1)

Mellow Michael... that's been his M.O. since day one. Now I'm not saying he's beyond dumping a box of cereal on the floor when you're not watching or pulling all the CDs off the desk. Its just that he's going to be really happy when he does it, and odds are, so cute that you can't help but laugh. Two older and very rowdy brothers don't intimidate him in the least... he's all too happy to join in the pillow fight -- even if he is the pillow at times.

Its fun being Grandma Dot.

There they go again...

2008-09-23T14:47:00.000-07:00

In the past few days, I've received a considerable number of forwarded emails - many from folks who seldom send such things - all on the subject of Sarah Palin. One encourages making a small donation to Planned Parenthood in her name with the acknowledgement cards going to McCain headquarters. Another provides a chance to weigh in on a national poll that purports to her being considered a plausible choice for president by the majority of US voters. And yet another offers an interesting list of contradictions with Ms. Palin's recent campaign claims and actual realities of her record. All are intriguing -- and I'm playing along -- but I worry that we progressives are once again falling for Repugnantcan (like that?) distraction tactics once again.

Oh, don't get me wrong. I fully agree that the mere concept of Sarah Palin someday sitting behind the desk in the Oval Office is enough to send mid-winter-Alaska-worthy shivers up any thinking person's spine. Still, she's so not what I'm preoccupied with about this moment.

For several months, I have worried and predicted that the Bush/Cheney gang would come up with some kind of October Surprise. I'd figured it would be a manufactured military or terrorist emergency, orchestrated and timed to justify imposing Marshall Law and postponing the elections indefinitely. Interestingly, when I would share this hypothesis, hardly anyone dismissed it as a wacko conspiracy theory. It appears I was only mistaken about the method - not the madness.

This call for a quick and immediate Wall Street bailout is nothing less than masterful. Even assigning the starring role to Treasury Secretary Henry Paulson is brilliant. Unlike the usual White House suspects, most of us don't know much about him, so much skepticism can be deflected. As usual, many in the media are signing on lock, stock and barrel. (Even the so-called free and independent NPR used its Talk of The Nation show today to explore the possibility that the current economic crisis was fueled by individual citizens' greed; which may have a modicum of merit, but certainly serves to distract from the real greed-mongers). Back to Mr. Paulson; he was only recently an executive at Goldman Sachs, one of the firms that will greatly benefit from the so-called recovery effort; where he reportedly "earned" over $16 MILLION dollars during his most recent year of employment.

Starting to see a pattern here? See any similarity to the full-on propaganda campaign to invade Iraq based on sketchy information about WMDs? Remember the hand-wringing and call for patriotism among even some of the most liberal members of the US House and Senate over that one? Who benefited? The war profiteers of Haliburton and the rest of the Oil Barons, all dyed-in-the-wool Friends of Dubya.

What about the Patriot Act? Once again, our representatives (and most of the electorate, so it seems) fell hook, line and sinker for the need to cede our First Amendment freedoms to the executive branch - all in the name of security. Besides the privilege of getting felt up at the airport, what did that buy us?

Consider the infamous (and so far, unchallenged) signing statements invented by the Bush team. Or, the Supreme Court appointments of Roberts and Alito, both of whom committed to honoring precedence during their confirmation hearings. Holy legislating from the bench, anyone?

I fully admit that I am not smart enough to provide all the answers. (Neither, I might add, is Sarah Palin). I do remember this much from 9th grade Civics, however. Our democracy has been notable - and so far, fairly successful - largely because of the separation of powers built into the Constitution. The Legislative Branch was purposely designed to be deliberative. Hence, not inclined to pass the most sweeping legislation ever proposed in one week! We are on the verge of turning over arguably the most potent power of them all - the power of the purse - to the executive branch... the same folks who worked hand-in-hand with the manufacturers of the electronic voting machines, don't forget (see www.stealingamerica.com). Somehow I'm not comforted by the Current Occupant's "Trust Me" rhetoric.

I'm not sure it will do any good, but we have to make our voices known. Sure, let's get the word out about Sarah Palin. But there is so much more. John Dalburg-Acton famously observed, "Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely." Why else would John McCain give up his so-called maverick status and make pretty with the far right-wingers and the Bush gang?

"I'd FIRE him!"

2008-09-20T11:24:00.000-07:00

Whoa... I'm sitting here wishing I had paid more attention in the solo Econ class I took in college. What I do remember from that semester is that it was a god-awful 8:00am class and that Dr. Bennett had a quirky, idiosyncratic style; i.e., his propensity for declaring, "A box of Snickers for that Boy!" when a student provided an accurate answer during his spot quizzes. And it's not just Economics. Would it have been so awful to have attempted a Finance class? Don't know much about any of that stuff, to paraphrase the late Sam Cooke.

I'm serious when I say that if anyone can explain the error of my thought process, I promise to pay attention.

I'm speaking of "the worst week on Wall Street since the great crash of 1929" as every paid pundit has put it. Now we have the Monkey-in-Chief declaring that "it's really bad" (thanks, Dub); while his wannabe replacement again shows his knee-jerk, impulsive nature be declaring he'd oust the SEC chairman. (Hence, today's headline). I'm no apologist for Christopher Cox, but while McLame's response makes a nice sound bite, it doesn't make a lot of sense.

It's not that I believe Obama has a magic solution, but at least he has the common sense to moderate his comments until he's fully studied the issue.

Not that either of them will likely have much influence on how we get out of this mess (or deepen it). At this moment, a brain trust composed of Bush appointees, various congress people and, no doubt, lobbyists for the NeoCom free marketers are said to be holed up somewhere in DC trying to bang out some legislation and/or further bail-out schemes to save the global financial markets. Foxes guarding the hen house, indeed. All of this will undoubtedly cost us trillions of dollars. And, even at record lows for the value of the dollar, that's a lot of dough.

I struggle to pay attention and try to grasp how all of this will impact us. Oh sure, the numbers on the old 401(k) statement will be depressing. But the real pain, it is starting to dawn on me, will be that regardless of who is elected; there will be absolutely nothing in the treasury to consider things like fixing health care, addressing infrastructure issues, bolstering our education system, not to mention investing in crazy stuff like the Arts. Social Security and Medicare are even more at risk, at best. Something tells me, however, that cash to the "War-On-Everything-I-mean-Terrorism" will continue to flow - spigots wide open.

This morning I listened to back-to-back stories on the radio. The first was about the financial crisis and various theories about how to fix it. The second featured a couple of hard working knuckleheads in Galveston, trying to figure out how to regroup after losing their businesses to Hurricane Ike. One guy from the latter group, a shrimp fisherman, spoke about being thankful that his family was all okay and that he only lost "stuff." The sheer grit of this guy was obvious. I suspect he'll have a few tough years and somehow will pull it all together and survive, pretty much on the strength of his own hard work and determination. Perhaps he'll qualify for some FEMA funds, but it seems clear that any assistance will be minimal. On the other hand, I wonder what Christopher Cox's - or any of the big money manglers' - severance packages would look like if McCain gets his way. Methinks our Shrimper pal would be wise to take that deal, eh?

What if, instead of using the trillions to bail out the big companies that "are too big to fail," we were to divide that same amount of money among all the people who have lost, or are at risk for losing, their homes due to the tricky mortgages foisted upon them by these same free market dudes? What if we tried some trickle UP assumptions for a while?

Do I get my box of Snickers?

People I Like and Why - FDG

2008-09-19T14:00:00.000-07:00

Today is the first of what I intend to be an ongoing feature here. To kick it off, let me tell you about FDG.

FDG is my nephew-in-law. Not sure if that is an official term, but as the guy who is married to my niece, it seems to fit. I read somewhere that once someone is your in-law, s/he is always your in-law. And, in this case, that's a nice thing to know.

FDG's name does not actually have and F in it. And we'll leave his last name out for now, so let's just call him David G. Then, why FDG? Here's the story...

Several years ago, at a big family gathering - perhaps it was something to do with Christmas, FDG (at the time, simply DG) was just being himself. His unpretentious, pleasant, helpful and amusing self. David, much like Sara Lee, is one of those guys that nobody doesn't like. In fact, the more I think about it, it was Christmas Eve at my brother's home, and I am pretty sure it was just before David married my brother's daughter, aka my niece. Said niece was already the proud mommy of a beautiful daughter. After she and David went on to get married, together they became the parents of four more adorable kids. But on that particular Christmas Eve, David had just recently graduated from Notre Dame and was at the beginning of what has evolved into a significantly successful career. No surprise there. As I said, he's easy to like.

Later that evening, I was back home with my nuclear family group, and we were all talking about the goings-on of the evening. I must have asked my (equally lovable) son-in-law if he would grab me a beverage. He responded, with just the right touch of playful rivalry, "Well, if F***ing David G. was here, I'm sure he'd jump up and get you a drink." That brought out a barrage of "F***ing David G" commentary and voila! A nickname was born.

Now admittedly, most people would not find a moniker like "F***ing" anything all too complimentary. However, in our family, irreverence is a badge of honor, so the appellation stuck. From then on, that's how my daughters, son-in-laws and I ironically referred to FDG. One day, when FDG's wife's sister was visiting, we brought her in on the joke; she, of course, loved it. So much so, and what I didn't know at the time, that she subsequently shared the hilarity with her sister, and ultimately, FDG.

Fast forward several years to another family wedding. By this time, all the aforementioned adorable children were reality; in fact, most of them were actively cutting the rug with the various grandmas, cousins, aunts, uncles and friends. Dig the scene... lots of Macarena, Chicken Dance and White Man's overbite going on.... little kids jumping around, slightly older ones break-dancing, etc. I found myself next to David and while making small talk, commented on how much I liked the dress his little Sarah was wearing. David said, "Well, you must really like it because you also complimented Emma (Sarah's older sister) when she wore it to your grandson's Bris."

Of course, I said, "I do remember that, now that you mention it."

We continued to observe the scene some more, and then David leaned over and said with a knowing grin, "And, you know Aunt D, the fact that I remember such things is why they call me F***ing David G."

You got that right.

The Devil's Workshop

2008-09-18T15:49:00.001-07:00

Idleness, that is... or so it is said.

I don't buy it. As my grandmother was credited with observing about the Prince of Darkness, "well, you can't say he's lazy." Indeed.

Devil or not, I admit to having become incredibly lazy since embarking on this new "life style." And let's be clear; by lazy, I mean idle, indolent, sluggish, lethargic. That is, not industrious or ambitious. And, I fear, boring.

To be sure, I have managed to maintain some standards, albeit very low ones. No TV before the New Hour? Check. Daily workouts? Check. Making the bed in the morning? Done. Unloading the dishwasher? I am absolutely on it.

But, oh, the time one can dawdle away!

I used to read the daily paper. Now I scour it -- evidenced today by the half-hour spent perusing the "cheap stuff" column. Mind you, I need nothing, nor would I be likely to call if I did. I used to pick up the mail and immediately drop about 95% of it in the recycling bin. Now I find myself opening every envelope, flipping through every catalog and actually opening the package of "value coupons." I used to have a daily "to do" list. Now I have to consult a calendar to know what day it is. Oy.

Whoever put all those games on PCs must have been part of the vast right-wing conspiracy. Is there a more effective brain-killer than, say, Spider Solitaire? I am mortified to admit to a new-found habit.

I'm hoping that publicly calling myself out will serve as the impetus to get myself kick-started. Pride, by this scheme, will prevent me from having anything but a tres' interesting response to queries of "what are you up to?" So, right after this entry, I'm off to dust off the old resume... or maybe get in a productive hour of pruning in the garden... or run down to the Obama campaign headquarters and help with phone calls for the evening. or...

Wait. Isn't it Happy Hour?

Seriously. Tomorrow is going to be happening! (Help)

Scarlett

Meanderings

2008-09-13T17:19:00.000-07:00

Think about the amount of news coverage an accident or tragedy that occurs in the US (or even in the "Western" world) will typically receive. I'm listening to the NPR weekend news show right now and just heard about the impact of the hurricane in Texas as well as a train crash in Los Angeles. Both very sad, considering not only the loss of life but the anguish of the survivors. In terms of deaths, it sounds like well less than fifty individuals. And when its our dead people, it makes the news. Compare the coverage to the 600+ who lost their lives when the same storm hit Cuba or Haiti earlier in the week.

With no malice intended toward any of my fellow citizens who are going though hell right now, fifty deaths is considered a good day in Iraq. News of those deaths is generally reported almost as a positive event. That's what I don't understand about the so-called "success" of the so-called "surge." Okay, I get it that the number of random violent instances are statistically lower than in the period before the surge. But success? Really?

Our country is occupying a foreign country, and hundreds of thousands of its citizens have been killed or displaced because of us. Whether we were in favor of the invasion or not, we are paying for it. Its my war, whether I like it or not. If the situation were reversed; that is, if the Iraqis had invaded us and we had suffered similar devastation, I can't imagine feeling anything but hatred toward them. Those emotions don't go away quickly; in fact, they survive for eons. I'm several generations removed from my Irish ancestors. I confess I have only a sketchy understanding of the politics or economics of 19th century Ireland, but put Michael Collins into the DVD player and there's no doubt in my mind about which side I'm rooting for. Consider our collective problem with race in our country. Its been 150 years since slavery was abolished and we still can't have an honest dialog about the impact of race or color on our thinking.

So, how do we ever expect to "win" this war in Iraq? Is it even conceivable to win with "honor?" It seems a blatant denial of common sense to expect so.

PS - haddy dirt day, TMLCP... hope you got my message.

911

2008-09-10T22:27:00.000-07:00

I became acquainted with the following poem shortly after 9.11.2001. Auden wrote it at the outbreak of World War II. When will we ever learn, indeed?
_______________________________________________________________

SEPTEMBER 1, 1939
by W.H. Auden

I sit in one of the dives
On Fifty-second Street
Uncertain and afraid
As the clever hopes expire
Of a low dishonest decade:
Waves of anger and fear
Circulate over the bright
And darkened lands of the earth,
Obsessing our private lives;
The unmentionable odour of death
Offends the September night.

Accurate scholarship can
Unearth the whole offence
From Luther until now
That has driven a culture mad,
Find what occurred at Linz,
What huge imago made
A psychopathic god:
I and the public know
What all schoolchildren learn,
Those to whom evil is done
Do evil in return.

Exiled Thucydides knew
All that a speech can say
About Democracy,
And what dictators do,
The elderly rubbish they talk
To an apathetic grave;
Analysed all in his book,
The enlightenment driven away,
The habit-forming pain,
Mismanagement and grief:
We must suffer them all again.

Into this neutral air
Where blind skyscrapers use
Their full height to proclaim
The strength of Collective Man,
Each language pours its vain
Competitive excuse:
But who can live for long
In an euphoric dream;
Out of the mirror they stare,
Imperialism's face
And the international wrong.

Faces along the bar
Cling to their average day:
The lights must never go out,
The music must always play,
All the conventions conspire
To make this fort assume
The furniture of home;
Lest we should see where we are,
Lost in a haunted wood,
Children afraid of the night
Who have never been happy or good.

The windiest militant trash
Important Persons shout
Is not so crude as our wish:
What mad Nijinsky wrote
About Diaghilev
Is true of the normal heart;
For the error bred in the bone
Of each woman and each man
Craves what it cannot have,
Not universal love
But to be loved alone.

From the conservative dark
Into the ethical life
The dense commuters come,
Repeating their morning vow;
'I will be true to the wife,
I'll concentrate more on my work,'
And helpless governors wake
To resume their compulsory game:
Who can release them now,
Who can reach the dead,
Who can speak for the dumb?

All I have is a voice
To undo the folded lie,
The romantic lie in the brain
Of the sensual man-in-the-street
And the lie of Authority
Whose buildings grope the sky:
There is no such thing as the State
And no one exists alone;
Hunger allows no choice
To the citizen or the police;
We must love one another or die.

Defenseless under the night
Our world in stupor lies;
Yet, dotted everywhere,
Ironic points of light
Flash out wherever the Just
Exchange their messages:
May I, composed like them
Of Eros and of dust,
Beleaguered by the same
Negation and despair,
Show an affirming flame.

adult equilavent of detention hall

2008-09-10T17:04:00.001-07:00

In my high school, it was "401" - referring to the room you had to report to if cited for being late for class or whatever other infraction merited an hour with Mr. Wojtas in detention. Wojtas, who really seemed to enjoy strolling up and down the aisles of the classroom, snapping a pencil in his palm, and enforcing the "no talking" rule could have come straight out of central casting for nerd-in-charge. Ferris Bueller or the St. Elmo's gang would have loved this guy. Mr. Wojtas, who was rumored to have other responsibilities - no one knew for sure what they were - wore a constant smirk, oblivious to the prevalent sentiment among the detainees that being a career detention monitor must rank about mid-way in Dante's layers of hell.

Yesterday, Mr. Wojtas in a Lake Oswego cop uniform pulled up behind me and cited me for failing to clear an intersection before the light changed, creating (he said) a terribly dangerous situation for the good citizens of the lovely community. I admit it. I didn't clearly calculate the speed at which the drivers in front of me were moving, and alas, Joan (my Jetta)'s rear end did impede the flow of traffic, although it really wasn't necessary for Officer Wojtas to add the drama to the dilemma. Smug little brat. Thank goodness lives were spared this time. So, now I get to send $97 to the municipality (because detention hall is not an option).

It took me 24 hours, but I had finally decided to quit stewing and just accept the consequences of being a less than competent commuter. Its a traffic ticket... the first one I've received in a good 20 years. Life goes on.

Today I came home to find a letter from the City of Portland notifying me that their radar documented me driving at 43 miles per hour on the Morrison Bridge where the recommended speed limit (okay... the prescribed speed limit) is 35 miles per hour. And there's a great shot of me in my new designer sun glasses right there on the ticket. At least my hair looked good. This one was a more grievous offense and will cause me to depart with $125 for my scofflaw ways.

So, friends and readers, be careful out there. I'm still on the road. And really, really annoyed with myself. And things always seem to happen in threes. And my insurance will probably go up. Its 401 all over again.

not-so-conventional convention commentary

2008-09-05T11:20:00.000-07:00

I started to write this last week.

Before I finished editing, I started listening to what is so overly described as "main stream media" and discovered that just about every comment I was ready to make about the convention goings-on had already become somebody's hackneyed talking point. Last night the left-leaning pundits used the "not-so-conventional" phrase. Hence, I'm not quite the original thinker I thought I was. Or, perhaps there really isn't anything new under the sun.

Suffice to say I liked almost everything I heard last week at the DNC. Highlights included John Kerry's self-deprecating humor in calling McCain out as a "flip-flopper," Bill Clinton's address (once again, the Come-Back Kid), Ted Kennedy, Jimmy Carter, Al Gore, and of course, Obama himself. I've never been a big Hillary fan; but after she called off the roll call (albeit, obviously staged), I even sent small contribution to help with her campaign debt.

Watching the events on CSpan was nice; it enables one to form one's own conclusions, unencumbered by the stellar media pundits. Still, as noted, my judgments were mostly consistent with those on the team I started with.

In a guileless attempt to try to understand the other side, I tuned in to much of the RNC this past week. It was difficult to listen to. Was there anyone at the Democratic event who came across as strident and mean-spirited as the likes of Rudy Guiliani or Mitt Romney or Sarah Palin, to name a few? Partisan? Yes. Intense? Definitely. Zealous? True. But, not belligerent and quarrelsome.

And to go Wesley Clark one further, I posit that having been a POW may be a DIS-qualification for the presidency. How can someone endure that treatment and not come out with a certain amount of revenge and hatred in his psyche? McCain found solace in his love of country and refers frequently to his loyalty to his brothers-in-arms. He is defined and molded by his experience as a soldier...a fighter. His brand of patriotism seems to me to be jingoistic; the "my country right or wrong" kind of affection. That makes sense if your referring to your kids, but it is counter to the values our country was founded on. For McCain, this attitude shows up in his stance that only veterans who have many, many years of military service (like him) deserve top tier benefits, as if a two or three year stint is not really a sacrifice. Or, despite his admission that he "broke" under the pressure of torture -- that is, admitted to the enemy things that he didn't believe in -- he is now supportive of the USA's use of torture. He seems to believe that somehow our torturers are more noble and justified than their torturers. I don't think John McCain is insincere. I just think he is wrong. John McCain still wants to "FIGHT for the American people." I want a president who will LEAD us - not fight for us. I want a president who will find ways not to fight for us. I want a president who is committed to finding common ground; who wants to compete and collaborate, not to dominate.

A fundamental difference between the right and the left is evident in this "Country First" slogan. The McCain (and Bush, Cheney, etc.) position is that the USA has to conquer the world. That's not sustainable. We need a president who understands that leadership is not management. Understanding our differences, domestically or globally, is the only way to resolving them. Barack Obama and most of the Democrats show that they recognize that real improvements come about only when we stop fighting and start looking for solutions that work for all sides. Whether Obama will be able to unshackle himself from the realities of the powers-that-be is yet to be seen. But he starts from a place that at least acknowledges those possibilities.

If I were Queen for a Day, I'd make Chapter 23, "Nately's Old Man," from Joseph Heller's Catch 22 required reading. Nately is an idealistic WW2 GI arguing with a wizened old Italian man who mocks Nately's unabashed belief in America's glory. "You put so much stock in winning wars," the grubby iniquitous old man scoffed. "The real trick lies in losing wars...Italy has been losing wars for centuries, and just see how splendidly we've done nevertheless. France wins wars and is in a continual state of crisis. Germany loses and prospers. Look at our own recent history. Italy won a war in Ethiopia and promptly stumbled into serious trouble. Victory gave us such insane delusions of grandeur that we helped start a world war we hadn't a chance of winning. But now that we are losing again, everything has taken a turn for the better..."

Later in the conversation, Nately declares, "Anything worth living for is worth dying for." To which the old man counters, "And anything worth dying for is worth living for."

There's a lot that's worth living for... in America, Iraq, and every place else around the world. Even Alaska and Arizona.

First day of school

2008-09-03T14:54:00.000-07:00

I will be posting some political commentary, but in the meantime...

Vivi (almost 6-yr-0ld granddaughter) started first grade today. She reported being "half excited and half 'nervilious'" - fairly typical reaction to first grade. Since I'm in my current state of leisure, I've volunteered for a couple of afternoons as chief child care person, so brother Tommy (4) and I will shortly be leaving to meet her school bus. Exciting. (Pics: Vivi at her desk, and before school w/Tommy).

Jonah (5-yr-old grandson from the Great State of MI) was less enamored with Kindergarten - Day 1. When asked what the problem was, he reportedly groused that he had been there "all day... and didn't even learn how to READ yet!"

I predict Mrs. Beanstock may consider retirement herself after this year.

(pic: Jonah, #23, with brother Gabe and big cousin Noah on way to Michigan game)

Its another Saturday Night...

2008-08-30T17:38:00.000-07:00

...but I'll be supervising grandkids doing the "splish-splash-I'm-a-taking-a-bath" thing.

just cancelled a blind date and, instead, picked up the kids for a sleepover.
something in the tone of the last couple of emails just left me cold.
when it just doesn't feel right, there's no sense in it.

oy. I think I've gotten way too used to the single life.

that's not an all bad thing.

A Convention Week Poem

2008-08-26T18:14:00.000-07:00

I ran across this poem in The New Yorker in a past election year (10-7-96). The poet is Richard Wilbur (and I confess I know nothing about him). But I've always liked this - even as I truly believe Barack Obama will be transformational, if we can just have enough sense to elect him.

(According to my on-line sources "disdegnoso" roughly transfers to "scornful" or "disdainful," while a "manque" is a word for a poser or wannabe).

*************************************

IL Disdegnoso

He scorns himself because, though he was meant

To lead, he's neither Pope nor President.

He scorns his friends more fiercely still, since they

Aren't even Popes or Presidents manques.

He further feels that no one but a dope

Could get elected President or Pope.

- Richard Wilbur

Neighborhood Sounds..

2008-08-24T20:07:00.000-07:00

...that I like to hear:

rain in any form...big blasting storms, light drizzly pitter-patter, glop-glop from the eaves troughs

chattering birds in the very early morning

pinging sound of neighbors' silverware at dinnertime

kids' voices: Savannah (2 yr old next door neighbor's declarative utterances), Sergio (4 yr old on the other side playing Pirates), Vivi and Tommy (approaching my house, conspiring on how to "surprise" Grandma Dot)

Daddies' voices: ultra bass Kevin on one side and Spanish-speaking Yantiff on the other

lawn mowers, powered or manual

sirens in the distance

the plop of The Oregonian landing on the front porch

other peoples' stereos

the mailman's steps on the front porch and the kerplunk of the mailbox closing

the swish-swish of my automatic sprinkling system kicking in

cars starting and backing out of driveways

clinking sounds of scavengers going through the recycling bins on Monday evenings retrieving bottles for the deposit value

the UPS or FedEx trucks pulling up, followed by drivers' hurried steps, dropped packages and quick get-aways

late night cat fights

the tintinnabulation of the bells, bells, bells (c'mon, I deserve to be able to say that!)

...that I really dislike:

barking dogs

garbage trucks going in reverse

wind chimes

car alarms

barking dogs

weed whackers

one-way cell phone conversations

barking dogs

Aunt Japan's Rating System

2008-08-23T15:22:00.000-07:00

Siskel and Ebert established a place in our popular culture with their patently adequate "thumbs up, thumbs down" method of appraising movies. My sister, Anne, has an even better system which could be called "Somebody owes me..." This is because when asked how she liked a given film, her review will be based on a fairly uncomplicated formula that begins with her tally of her overall financial outlay (i.e., ticket price, cost of popcorn &/or soda, and sometimes the price of gas or parking, depending on her mood). This amount is then decremented by her determination of the entertainment value.

Let's say she went to a matinee (she usually does), enjoyed the aforementioned culinary treats and found free parking; we might be starting out at say, $15.00. Then, if the movie had a reasonably interesting plot, respectable technique and direction, utilized a modicum of editing (rare these days), and had a high "cute boy factor," Aunt Japan would likely declare that it was "pretty good." However, if any of those qualities were missing, the verdict could easily be, "Somebody owes me about 8 bucks." The reaction is, of course, scalable depending on her level of enjoyment or lack of amusement with said flick. To illustrate, Wall*E received an implicit nod of approval, while I believe somebody owed her about fourteen bucks after The Titanic. Over time, one finds her judgments to be at least as consistent a barometer as http://rottentomatoes.com/ or whoever is playing Siskel and Ebert these days.

Oh. You may be wondering why I'm referring to my sister Anne as "Aunt Japan?" Well, that goes back several years to when my kids were in their pre-adolescent imp stage. For completely inexplicable reasons (is that an oxymoron?), "Aunt Anne" morphed into "Aunt Japan." And, it just stuck. There is nothing very Japanese about Japan, other than her small cache of Asian objects d'art; collected over the years, I suppose, with just a hint of irony.

"Shall I bring you the 15's, Dot?"

2008-08-20T11:52:00.000-07:00

One of the essential members of Team Dot is my trainer, Alayne. Like Doug (always amusing hairdresser), Vera (I want to hug my house after she's been here cleaning), Tracy (wonderful, efficient peddies), Matthew (financial planner with a touch of sass), and Erin (my magical gardener), Alayne makes my life easier.

Perhaps "better" is a more apt adjective because there is nothing "easy" about what Alayne inspires me to do. When I first started working out with her a few years ago, I had no idea I would one day do what I do now -- and actually look forward to it. Today's title is, of course, and actual quote -- first heard the day I thought mastering the 12 pound weights for bicep curls signified eminent achievement. Not so much. There is no finish line, as they say.

What keeps me coming back not just the challenge and the variety of the workouts, both of which are significant incentives; its Alayne, herself. She's supportive, knowledgeable, smart and just plain nice. Over the years, I've observed how she employs her firm-but-gentle manner to motivate people of varying levels push themselves to the next plateau. If you're in the Portland area, you're lucky to have such available talent.

Check out her website http://www.portlandteamfitness.com/

And, while we're at it... shall I bring the 2o's?

Mary Ann

2008-08-17T09:03:00.000-07:00

Despite being a "recovering Catholic" for some 30-plus years and very comfortable with my choices around spirituality, there are some things one just doesn't mess with. Case in point - the statue of The Blessed Virgin Mary I discovered enshrined in my back yard when I moved into this home. A quick check with my predecessors confirmed their similar apprehensions with disposing of her. How does one just jettison an icon like The Saviour's mother? She doesn't exactly go quietly into the recycling bin. Hence, for the first few years, she maintained her place on the stump of the walnut tree where Doris (the little old lady who owned the place for a few generations before my forbears) had left her.

In the spring of 2006, however, as I was preparing to squander my annual bonus on new landscaping, it occurred to me that the workers on said project could surreptitiously remove Our Lady of the Back Yard along with the overgrown rhododendron trees, ubiquitous ivy branches and spindly old rose bushes. I would thus semi-legitimately duck responsibility for her disappearance and safely assume that whatever disposal occurred would be both tasteful and non-sacrilegious.

I mentioned my brilliant plan to my daughter, who very much supported the scheme. What neither of us anticipated were the protests from my then-four-year-old granddaughter, who was already beginning to assert herself into conversations we assumed were beyond her attention span or level of interest. We had also both forgotten that Vivi, who never quite grasped the religious connection, had always and affectionately referred to our garden blessedness as "Mary Ann." Not quite sure where the middle name came from, we didn't correct her; much as we never discouraged any of Vivi's most charming conventions. I.E., ATHernethy School (Abernethy), hosbibble (hospital), or lasterday (yesterday)

Thus, the impetus for Mary Ann' relocation to her current perch, where she continues as the phantom (or actual, depending on your beliefs) benefactress of the neighborhood. She rode the block-and-a-half to her new home in Vivi's back yard in a pint-sized red Radio Flyer wagon, where she holds reign today. And whether its the subliminal influence of the 190 holy cards stuffed in my Marian missal circa 1957 or the lore of my aunt placing a statue of the Infant of Prague face-backwards in her refrigerator until her petitions were answered, there's something comforting knowing Mary Ann is still safely on the job.

four days into "retirement"

2008-08-06T14:51:00.000-07:00

There is a distinctly blissful feeling of not having to meet anyone's expectations. Oh sure, there's stuff that must get done, but the freedom of choosing when and how is amazing. And yet, even as I roll over one more time in the morning and catch that extra ten minutes of not-quite-asleep-but-not-quite-awake time, I know myself well enough to know I'll need to impose some order and routine.

So, until the job search begins in earnest (right after the conventions, I'm figuring); I am considering making a resolution to read at least one hour a day (not counting while falling asleep with the light on), and to write at least one hour a day (commitment was never my strong suit). The reading will not be difficult - there are currently 12 books in my "to read" stack and that doesn't include the library holds. The writing will be more challenging... mainly thinking of topics. My friend, Lisa, is seriously encouraging me to write a novel. hmmmm. I'm still more focused on coming up with blog topics (send suggestions). Perhaps I'll profile people on the Dot Team... those key individuals without whom I wouldn't be able to maintain. Then, there's the potential fam/friends profiles, but I risk getting kicked out of the fam... without friends. oopsie.

Radio news was interesting today... lots of discussion about Bruce Ivins, the scientist who allegedly committed suicide in the face of the FBI getting ready to prosecute him for the anthrax letters to senators and newsrooms shortly after 911. There does appear to be a bit of a credibility gap with the story. The feds have only circumstantial evidence that seems relatively easy to explain; but now that Ivins is conveniently dead, that won't be happening. More troubling are the far-fetched theories for Ivans' motive, the latest being that Senators Daschle and Leahy voted pro-choice and Ivin's wife was a leader in the anti-abortion movement? Really? Quoth Marge from Fargo, "I'm not sure I agree with you a hunnert percent on your policework, there, Lou."

Another interesting story was an interview with Ron Suskind, author of The Way of the World in which he lays out more evidence of the Bushies' manipulation and lying about the buildup to the Iraq war.

It was difficult to suppress the gagging when I heard our commander-in-chief scolding the Chinese for their treatment of dissidents. This from the fool who had to have his own political rallies carefully vetted and wearing a suspect t-shirt was all that was needed to be ousted. Also great to hear that the Iraqi government is enjoying huge surpluses thanks to the recent run-up in oil prices -- however, we the US peeps are still funding the so-called successful surge. I still don't get how we get to hear about this success juxtaposed with continued daily reports of suicide bombers or roadside IED explosions. The only thing I have come to admire about Bush & Co. is their uncanny ability to simply state something is fact, regardless of any connection to truth or reality. Amazing.

Tomorrow I head to Michigan to spend a week with kids, grandkids, sibs and friends. Life is good.

skinny men I love to listen to

2008-08-03T18:15:00.000-07:00

I'd kill to hear Lyle Lovett singing about the Rolling Stones' girl With Faraway Eyes...

Likewise, what fun it'd be to hear Mick and the boys cover LL's San Antonio Girl -- heaven.

I count stuff

2008-08-02T13:52:00.000-07:00

I cannot go up a flight of steps without counting them. I could report how many tiles are in my shower. And, if I'm sitting across from you in a meeting and you have on, say, a striped shirt; odds are I'll know how many stripes by the end of the meeting (especially if the agenda is pretending to be "strategic"). Currently, my car has exactly 33,668 miles on it. I did not have to go out and look just before writing this because I made a mental note of it when I turned off the engine a couple of hours ago. I also get excited about symmetry on my odometer. Once I called a friend to share that the mileage on the odometer and the time on the clock were exactly the same number! She essentially hung up on me. I can pretty much tell you within a few bucks the balances in my checking and savings accounts, the payoff on my mortgage and the number of punches on my Hot Lips Pizza get-a-slice-free card. In case you wanted to know.

I'm gonna bang on my drums all day!

2008-08-01T10:49:00.001-07:00

(Todd Rundgren reference, in case you needed help).http//www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZclddLcOYYA

yep... school's out! school's out. teacher let the fools out!

or something like that.

about an hour ago, I left my place of employment and now I'm officially "retired!"

at least for a while.

it really does feel like that last day of school - even if its already August.

I wonder what will happen next?

Just Buy It

2008-07-31T21:29:00.000-07:00

My bro-in-law, Greg, and I do not share the same shopping style. Word has it that Greg spent the better part of four Saturdays researching and deciding on which tires to buy to replace his aging treads. I, on the other hand, have purchased two new vehicles by phone. Greg does not understand this.

Hence, I would never reveal to Greg that, essentially, I purchased my home by phone. Actually (a word we love in the Great Northwest), I had seen the domicile. Bud (previous owner), had a party to which I was a friend-of-a-friend "guest." That is, I crashed. Bud is famous (among those who know him) for his hospitality. Translation: the booze was flowing. Not to mention the other stuff.

I remember congregating in the not yet finished second floor of the bungalow -- it would soon be a nice "master suite" - but at the time, promising drywall and a punched out area for a bathroom were the major attractions. It also served as a delightful place to appreciate doobies and gossip about the a-hole HAAAAVAAARD guy who was with one of our (then) fabulously attractive single gUrlfriends. (she did much better later... future blog topic, perhaps).

Fast forward... one day, chatting with my daught... she mentions Bud is selling his place. Bud's place, by the way, is about a two minute walk from daught's home. "No kidding," I say, "I should buy Bud's house." In my mind at that moment, was not the soon-to-be-finished master suite, or the proximity to the daught, or much of anything else. It was the hot tub. The SPA, if you will. The under-the-stars-in-your-altogether-glass-of-wine-music-blaring-best-relaxation-with-or-without-company hot tub. Mind you, I'd had plenty of hot tub experience. My friend, Debbie, and I had solved most of the mysteries of the world in her hot tub. And those brilliant conversations were Plato to Aristotle if one considered the Boyne Mtn. hot tubbing experiences with Realjo, MB, et. al. (Remind me to 'blog' about the yellow-foot-toad some day). I digress.

So, I told daught to tell Bud I'll buy his house for $xxx (whatever it was he thought he should have). He says okay, and suggests a friend of his to list/sell my house. Said friend hooks me up with another mutual friend who's a mortgage broker, and within a few weeks everyone has bought/sold what they wanted and off we go. At this point, I really haven't SEEN my new house, but felt somewhat assured that it was pretty close to what I'd probably like.

And it was. Is.

You can often spend way too much time analyzing things. Instincts are a good thing.

So are hot tubs.

5 ways to make life easier

2008-07-31T18:17:00.000-07:00

identify one spot near your front door and ALWAYS put your keys in that spot. this will add 7.9 years to your life.
always place the saran wrap, aluminum foil, etc. with the sharp edge facing down. this will prevent sliced fingers forever.
place garments on hangers in the same direction. hang in closet according to pants, tops, skirts, dresses and sorted by colors. when you discover you could dress in black for 30 days straight without ever repeating, think about purchasing a pink shirt.
with a few rare exceptions, its not necessary to sort clothes for the laundry -- especially if you use cold water.
use duct tape to hide a key somewhere under the frame of your car. keep a spare house key locked in your glove compartment.

Trend Setter?

2008-07-29T20:22:00.001-07:00

usually I'm SO on to things...

sometimes, however, I'm incredibly slow. a notable example was when I "discovered" a fabulous new band "Blues Traveler" circa 2003. oh... they're now playing the Casino circuit, you say?

so understand I recognize the "REALLY?" factor when I proclaim that gas grills are truly an improvement over the charcoal-in-the-mini-Weber method of outdoor cooking. why has this taken so long?

for my birthday last week, my s-i-l, Mattie, rolled in the new "Aussie" brand grill which he and Melissa and his cousin David had just assembled. Its amazing...just turn the knob and we're ready to sear red meat! It's a petite little grill, too -- in fact, the model is "Joey." Joey cooked me a steak tonight. I love technology.

I even gave the bone to my despicable next door neighbor, some sort of boxer named Guappo.

Life is good.

Why "Dottier?"

2008-07-28T15:42:00.001-07:00

Most people who know me are aware that I have always hated my name, Dorothy. Seems my father felt my mother, also named Dorothy, deserved to be honored. About the only thing I ever disliked about my mother was that she allowed that decision to prevail. Wouldn't she, of all people, understand what a dumb name that was? She didn't quite get my dissatisfaction (other than she hated the nickname Dot). Its all about timing. In her day, Dorothy was like Jennifer was the year my first child was born. (Guess what her name is?)

Throughout childhood, I made a few futile stabs to adopt a nickname (Dory was my fave), but they never stuck. My sixth grade teacher began to call me Dort, which unfortunately did find a following; and in opinion, was a significant step backwards. When I got to high school and an ingenious classmate decided I should be "Deedee" (her other friend Dorothy's handle), I happily embraced the concept. My buddy Therese then changed her name to Tes and we were very pleased with our new identities.

So there I was... Deedee. Kind of unsophisticated, but such an improvement. A few decades later, when I started a new job, I dropped the dee and began to introduce myself as Dee to better express my ever evolving persona. Fast forward another 20 years or so, and now my last name was the issue. I had retained my married name, even though the marriage was short-lived. And since I was planning to make a cross country move; I decided that regardless of my distaste I might as well reclaim the name I came into the world with and use it for the duration. Hence, Dorothy.

Enter male companion. Who, frankly, influenced the decision to reclaim the name. And, who began to refer to me as Dot. Which, caused great delight for my daughters, who then started to call me Dot as well. As a joke... as it were. Short story getting much too long -- Dot stuck.

Which brings us to the original question, why Dottier for a blog name? Honestly? Because all the good ones were taken. I couldn't select "The Dotted Line," "On the Dot" or even "Dot your I's." Dotage was a thought, but the actual definition speaks of senility and frailty and I'm not quite there. So, while we're not the Dottiest, we're on our way.

Why "Dottier?

2008-07-28T15:42:00.000-07:00

Pittsburgh

2008-07-27T18:51:00.000-07:00

I spent much of the past two weeks in The Steel City; I was a key witness in a discrimination lawsuit against my soon-to-be ex-employer. (I love irony).

Apparently, like most people who are new to Pittsburgh, I was pleasantly surprised with the place. It rivals Portland for natural beauty, nested as it is among the triple rivers, of which the Monongahela is definitely the most fun to pronounce. The city is rife with hard working knuckleheads, mostly of the white variety... dudes who are more than happy to give a gal street directions or recommendations on local beers. The city has a lot of sneaky taxes, a problem the cab drivers attribute to preventing current suburbanites from moving back to the ever improving, if gentrifying, close-in neighborhoods. I observed same taxes morphing several meal tickets go from "reasonable" to the dark side of my daily meal allowance.

Still, the city thrives. Its greatest asset -- more than the amusing Andy Warhol museum, the iconic incline rides to the top of Mt. Washington, and the pretty good daily newspaper (Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, which features the NYT crossword and a dang good columnist named Tony Norman) -- are the people, themselves. The citizens.

Thus, I hate to tag Pittsburgh with the following...

My colleague, also there to provide testimony for Our Big Company, had an earlier flight than me. It was a beautiful sunny afternoon, we had just finished the trial (which resulted in a 100% defense verdict, by the way - yippee!); and after a couple of optimistically celebratory glasses of wine, I stayed with her in the taxi queue in front of the William Penn Omni Hotel. Giddy as we were with the events of the day, it took us a few moments to realize that no cabs were servicing the line of 10-12 people. Soon, we noticed taxi drivers would slow down on the approach, then turn left or right, avoiding the hotel (the finest in Pittsburgh, by the way). After a few more moments of innocent head shaking, we observed that at the head of the line were two very "street" looking African American men.... dreadlocks, gold teeth, loud clothing - you get the picture. Further observation revealed that every couple of minutes the doormen from the Omni would somewhat discretely pull a (white) customer or two from the line and disappear around the corner where, voila!, a yellow cab was waiting. I've read about such stuff... never actually saw it. The dudes from Detroit (I would soon learn), were starting to pick up on what was happening. They, like me, really could not -- or did not want to -- believe what was happening. My friend, toward the back of the line, was getting anxious because if the people in the front of didn't get rides fairly quickly, she would miss her flight. I got an idea. "Stay here," I said to my friend, and I moved to the front and asked the Motown Men if I could test the system. Within seconds (literally), me - the white business woman "of a certain age," attracted a Yellow Cab. "Can you get to the airport?" "Of course," replied the cabbie. "Good. Thanks... Gentlemen, get in," I replied and left the scene.

I had been brimming with overconfidence and optimism about an improved America last week watching our audacious hopeful candidate wow the masses in Europe. It suddenly seemed a lot less like a three pointer.

My New Blog

2008-07-26T13:12:00.000-07:00

Since I am getting ready to make a big change in my life (quitting my job), I decided it was time to join the world of blogging, albeit with some trepidation. I'm not yet familiar with how it all works (technically), but suppose it can't be all that hard. Scarier concern... how much to reveal. Fear is abated somewhat by the big change... since I no longer have to worry about the judgments of the job people. And really, privacy... you have none. Get over it. Tell that to Brandon Mayfield. And, as sterile as my existence has been the past few years, what's the big deal about secrecy anyway? But ah, if i was to reminisce? (We'll get back to that).

Today I walked down to the bike shop and picked up "Otto" (the autobike.... I know... seriously, tres' boomer), then went for a few errands, culminating with a peddie at my favorite cheap salon (Top Ten Nails, Hawthorne St) where, just for the fun of it, I emerged with kind of a turquoisy-blue set of toenails. Matches nicely with the pink streak in my hair, which Melissa (daughter #2) recommends losing. Her point is that the trend she credits me with starting (or jumping on early) is now over and I risk being seen as a "cougar" - look it up... 30 Rock reference.

One political comment before ending my very first blog entry. Its kind of last week's news, but about the New Yorker cover (Obamas as terrorists). Mark Twain, Will Rogers and the rest are likely tittering smugly in their graves... the world still doesn't quite get satire. I especially loved the refrain "well, I understand... but what about all those other dummys out there." Indeed. At least we didn't have half the US Congress condemning it like they did when MoveOn.org ran the "General Betray Us" ad. Now, that was good stuff, but oh my, criticize a military man and risk being accused of "not supporting the troops." Pul-eeze.

Okay...

til the next time...