BSoD

My laptop crashed last night and I got the dreaded "Blue Screen of Death". Fortunately I don't keep too much of great importance stored on my laptop, so I'm not hyperventilating or having major heart palpitations. Now if my desktop crashed...well let's just say it would be quite the traumatic experience. (Note to self: back-up desktop with an external hard drive-ASAP!!!)

I mainly use my laptop to work on papers for school. I also use it to surf the net and play. There's a good chance I'm going to loose some school related items from past semesters, but nothing I'm in dire need of recouping. I'm not even sure it's worth it to try and retrieve anything. I'm thinking it might be easiest to just wipe the hard drive clean and reinstall XP. If I choose that route, I think now is the time to crack open my laptop and add some RAM memory. It really needs a bit more anyway.

edited to add: It seems that the backup disks that came with my laptop-the ones with xp-have mysteriously disappeared. Grrrrrr. How the hell am I supposed to reinstall the os when I can't find the os?

Bustin' out

I went to the mall today. (You know you're in the middle of a nasty recession when you visit a mall just a few weeks before Christmas, on a Sunday afternoon, and the crowds are no heavier than usual.) Today I was on a mission; I was hoping to buy a few new bras. I hate shopping. Bra shopping is particularly annoying. I can never seem to find anything that actually fits. As it happens, all of my bras are old and stretched out. I was getting a bit desperate. I've known for several years that I should get myself properly measured and fitted, but I've never known where to go. I know Macy's occasionally has fitters in their lingerie department, but when? I haven't a clue.

This afternoon I hit JC Penny first. My visit there was dismal and disappointing. I tried on 7-10 bras to no avail. Then I made my way over to Macy's. After half-heartedly, and a bit aimlessly, wandering the lingerie department a store employee walked by...a store employee who had a tape measure draped across her shoulders! "Excuse me ma'am. " I almost gasped. "Are you doing bra fittings?" It turned out that she was.

She pulled me into the fitting room. First she took the measurement for my band size. "34." She said. That sounded about right. Then she took the measurement for the cup size. "C." I thought I must have heard her wrong. She must have made a mistake, because I knew there was no way I would fill a C cup. I have rather small breasts. In high school and college (my first 2 years, immediately following high school) I didn't even fill an A cup. When I was nursing (I was the true 24 hour "Dairy Queen") I was a solid B cup, but Little Man was born almost 6 years ago. C cup?! That was just insane.

She saw the doubt etched across my face, so she measured once again and insisted I was indeed a 34 C. She kindly, but firmly, suggested I try on a few in that size. I figured I knew she was wrong, but I followed her advice anyway. Imagine my sheer surprise when I discovered that they fit! Shell-shocked and flabbergasted I tried on a 4-5 more in my new size and ended up buying 3. I'll probably go back in a week and buy a few more.

I drove home in a slight daze. 34 C isn't too shabby. My standard joke used to be that my bra size is triple-HA. (As in, "HA, HA, HA!") That joke just doesn't apply anymore.

Here Comes the Sun!

It is Tuesday, November 4th. Election day-finally! First of all Obama won Florida. I literally jumped up and down squealing like a little girl on Christmas morning, "He won Florida! He won Florida!!!" Secondly, all the major news networks and the New York Times (at 11:00pm) called the race for Obama! I'm euphoric! I have never been more proud to be an American! I'm ecstatic that the US elected a black man as president within my lifetime. While it doesn't negate all racial issues in our country it is beautiful and refreshing progress!

So the song of the day is "Here Comes the Sun" by the Beatles! After 8 years of iron fisted GOP divisive tactics, everything suddenly looks much brighter.

Here comes the sun, here comes the sun,
And I say it's all right

Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter
Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
And I say it's all right

Little darling, the smiles returning to their faces
Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
And I say it's all right

Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...

Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly melting
Little darling, it seems like years since it's been clear
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun,
And I say it's all right
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun,
It's all right, it's all right

F***ing technology

I like computers. I think the internet is incredibly cool. Microsoft Word is a fantastic program and portable memory devices can be lifesavers. However...


...and this is a big however-I apparently am the only moron on the surface of the planet who did not know that there is a proper way to remove a portable memory device from a computer. How was I to know that you must eject a jump drive before you physically remove it from your USB port?! Today I learned that lesson the hard way. For my Political Communication class I typed two thirds of my midterm essay/exam on the 1952, 1956 and 1960 presidential campaigns. I saved my work to my jump drive with the intention of coming back to it later to complete 1960. (I probably only had about 2 or 3 more pages to go in order to complete the essay.) When I tried opening the file on my jump drive *POOF* it was gone. Corrupted. (Like Tricky Dick himself.)

The Geek Squad informed me that they aren't "authorized" to retrieve corrupted files. My options are limited at the moment, so it seems I am stuck retyping the whole thing. Did I mention I was quite happy with the work I had done on the essay thus far? Grrrrr. Googledocs might possibly become my new best friend.

As the election turns part deux

I can think of plenty of stupid things Sarah Palin has said and done. (I cannot believe the GOP couldn't come up with a better VP candidate than Palin.) But this weekend she dropped a doozy. She erroneously claimed that Barack Obama pals around with "terrorists". How desperate can the McCain campaign get?

I am currently doing a very tentative happy dance. While many polls have, over the past few days, been calling Florida as a tossup state, some are now saying that Obama is actually leading in Florida.

As the Election Turns...

Apparently Sarah Palin's 17 year old daughter is pregnant. It's all over the media today. I read it in the New York Times. I thought the GOP is supposed to be the party of "family values". I thought their message is "abstinence only". Call me crazy but this is not my idea of someone who sets a good example for the rest of us.

John McCain and his VP pick, Sarah Palin

I'm supposed to be working on a paper for a class I'm taking this semester. Ironically enough, the class is titled "Gender, Power and Relationships". I can't get my mind off John McCain's VP pick of Sarah Palin though. I'm hoping that if I write about her now, I can get my mind off of the issue and back onto my class assignment.

I'm a proud supporter of Barack Obama. I have always felt that Hillary, simply because her last name is Clinton, would be polarizing and divisive. This country needs someone who is capable of bringing Americans together in addition to rebuilding our image overseas. Obama is a fresh face and I'm confident about his commitment to women's issues. If Hillary had won the Democratic nomination I would have supported her, but ultimately I'm happier with Obama. I thought that his selection of Joe Biden as his VP running mate was sensible. He has plenty of experience, he represents most of my views on the issues and again, he supports women's issues. Of particular note, Biden's office drafted the original Violence Against Women Act in 1994. He's also chairman of the Foreign Relations Committee-not too shabby!

Enter GOP nominee McCain. I thought he was ok in 2000, but I could never get past his anti-choice stance on abortion. I would have difficulty voting for anyone who is anti-choice; that is a deal breaker for me. I don't like his stance on the war in Iraq and I take issue with the fact that he is one of the Keating Five. We are in the middle of a recession that has been largely affected by deregulation of the banking and mortgage industry. We can thank Mr. McCain's buddy Phil Gramm for that one. Why on earth would anyone want to elect one of the Keating Five as president?! Our current recession is worse than the 1990-1991 one, caused by the Savings and Loan Scandal and it's going to get even deeper. Americans are going to pay a huge price in rebuilding the economy and I think it's going to be slow and painful. Yet McCain has consistently referred to himself as a "de-regulator". He's completely out of touch. In short, I can no longer tolerate him and I think he is an exceptionally bad choice for the US.

Yesterday he announced Alaskan governor, Sarah Palin as his running mate. Palin is anti-choice and belongs to an organization called "Feminists For Life". I checked out their official website. I can't see anything that remotely suggests their organization supports women's issues. Their sole issue is anti-abortion/anti-choice. They say "pre-conception" issues fall outside of their "mission", yet their FAQ page makes reference to "non-abortifacient contraception". That kind of language is loaded and speaks volumes. It means that they do not approve of any kind of chemical/hormonal birth control or IUD's.

While I could never see eye to eye on their anti-choice baloney, I can respect their right to hold those views. I am a bit disturbed by their complete ignorance regarding the need to prevent unwanted pregnancies in the first place. How on earth can an organization claim to be feminist when they completely ignore women's health concerns, and YES contraceptives are a health concern.

The mother in me is appalled that Ms. Palin returned to work 3 days after giving birth...to a baby with Down Syndrome none the less! Women have worked far too long and hard to get maternity leave to have someone who ignored it represent us. She's still nursing and yet she's heading out on a major political campaign. I breastfed my son for 2 1/2 years. Hey Sarah-*NEWSFLASH* have you ever heard of mastitis? It's extremely painful. Stress and over working yourself are the easiest ways to bring it on. If you spread yourself too thin you will make yourself sick and will be of no use to the American people. To fail to recognize such a simple and basic principle is irresponsible and neglectful.

She was mayor of a tiny Alaskan town (which she drove into debt) and she's been governor for less than 2 years. Alaska's entire population is smaller than that of most major US cities. If Rudy Giuliani didn't have the skills to pay the bills after running the city of New York and handling 9-11 and its aftermath, why would McCain think this woman is ready? Oh wait-that's right...she's a "maverick". She opposed the "bridge to nowhere". (Oops.)

How does this extremist, evangelical, Christian supposedly represent the average American woman? Regardless of what fundamentalist Christian's would have us believe about contraceptives, most American women use them or have used them. How does she stand for us? She is not our friend. She is not the kind of woman who is going to "break the glass ceiling".

Any feminist who votes for McCain/Palin is ignoring the issues. I think the vast majority of democrats who supported Hillary will give their support to Obama/Biden. The ones that vote for McCain/Palin either have their heads up their butts or won't vote for Obama because he's black. McCain is sickeningly pandering to women. It's insulting and condescending, not to mention insincere.

Michelle Obama

Tonight was the first night of the Democratic National Convention. I knew Michelle Obama was going to be the keynote speaker this evening, but I didn't know what time she was scheduled to speak. I came out of the shower and she was smack in the middle of her speech. Can I just say, that woman is a CLASS ACT! She is incredibly warm, articulate, down to earth and beautiful. She is a fantastic public speaker. I will go so far as to say that I cannot remember any politician (at least since I registered to vote at 18) ever giving such a stirring speech. She represents the Democratic party in the best possible light. How could anyone listen to Michelle speak and then choose the ice princess we all know as Cindy McCain over her? Even Fox Noise (thanks for that nickname Keith Olbermann) couldn't say anything negative about it.

At the end of the speech Obama's daughters came on stage and I thought they were great. Michelle Obama's speech is probably going to go down in political history.

I really like where I live, but...

We live in a 3 bedroom, 2 bathroom condo with 1400 square feet. It has an open, split bedroom floor plan, with large rooms. It feels big and airy. We have a lovely view of a picturesque canal and a quiet golf course. Our canal is frequently visited by all manner of native Floridian birds. My biggest gripe is that condo rules do not allow washing machines and dryers inside the units, so we have to use the building's communal laundry facilities. We probably only spend a few hundred dollars a year on laundry; not a big deal.

Our community is culturally diverse. That was a draw for us. We have people from a wide variety of ethnic backgrounds. We like living in an area that is reflective of the world community. In a way it's kind of like curry. Thai, Indian, and Jamaican curries are all complex and rich, yet completely different and I like them all.

We love this place. We remodeled the kitchen and the bathrooms and we have this place just the way we want it. It feels like home and it's a wonderful place to come home to...and the schools are CRAP. Therein lies our problem. After a great deal of worrying and going through all the proper channels, the school district did not come through. Little Man started kindergarten at a charter school last week. It's good; certainly a huge improvement over our zoned school. But ultimately I'm not sure it's the best fit for him. I don't think anyone should have to move in order to receive quality education. Everyone in the district should have equal access to quality education. That's not how it works though.

My husband and I are now at the beginning stages of discussing moving a few miles to the north-west. I don't want to move and I resent the school district's lack of real options. The whole situation is depressing.

Incompetence and or underhanded behavior

Little Man started kindergarten today. He was supposed to start 2 days ago on Monday, but a tropical storm postponed everything a bit. This morning I walked him to his class so I could drop off all of his supplies. It was funny though, because he wanted me to just drop him off at the curb. "Mom, you can just drop me off here. I can walk to class by myself!" I'm proud of that independent streak, but I can't quite figure out how it popped up so soon. He was great this morning, from the time he woke up, until the time I left his classroom.

We have him at a charter school because the school we're zoned for is, to put it bluntly, incredibly crappy. I have plenty of issues with both the school and the principal. Here's where the sneaky stuff comes into play (and I'm not sure if it's gross incompetence or outright underhandedness). The zoned school pulled our paperwork from the charter and withdrew him. We didn't find out about it until Friday evening-well over a month after everything went down. The county allows this kind of stuff to happen due to convoluted district rules.

Fortunately it was obvious in the charter school's computer system that we weren't the ones who had withdrawn him-it had been the other school. The charter school secretary told me that was the second time that day they had the same exact problem with that particular school. Fortunately they were able to let us re-register him.

I want to call up the district office and file an official complaint. This is not my first gripe with the school. I had dealings with the principal a few months ago. This incident just added to my frustration. But really, what will it accomplish? The district likely won't do a darn thing. I'm just thankful I was able to get my son into a decent charter!

Wallpaper

We live in a condo that was built in the early 1970's. We bought it in 2001, right before the housing boom that marked the first few years of Bush's (I prefer to think of him as "Moron Boy") presidency. It's in a condo subdivision that was originally age restricted for 55 and older. In the 1990's the age restrictions were lifted and families started to move in. As most retiree's in the 1960's and 70's did, the original owners of our condo decorated with custom drapes that covered, not just the windows, but rather the entire wall. White shag carpeting was everywhere and even greeted you at the front door. We were rather relieved to find that there was very little wallpaper. (Note: I said "little" wallpaper, as opposed to "no wallpaper".)

The carpeting needed replacing, which we anticipated considering the age of the place. (We chose a simple berber in the living room and bedrooms, but we put Pergo in the dining room and entrance.) Obviously the curtains had to go. The kitchen needed updating, but again, the place was almost 30 years old. We got a good deal in terms of price, so we weren't complaining too much about what we considered fairly minor updates. Trust me when I say that for the most part, we had a clean slate to deal with. We hired someone to paint and to put up a wall to make the "convertible" into a true 3rd bedroom. Part of the job was removing the wallpaper from the 2 bathrooms. It was typical wallpaper from the era; ugly colors (what were they thinking?) combined with metallic foil. Until this afternoon, all I could remember about the wallpaper was that it was hideously ugly stuff. I happily purged that wallpaper from my memory.

Fast forward 7 years to today-July 2008. We're smack in the middle of having one of our bathrooms completely remodeled and the other bathroom is receiving a partial remodel. In the spirit of water conservation and all around "green" ideology, we decided to replace both toilets with units compliant with modern water efficiency standards. My contractor pulled out the toilet today and low and behold, there was still a scrap of wallpaper behind the tank. Here is a scan of it:



The scan doesn't do it justice. I promise it is most definitely metallic wallpaper. What I would like to know is, WHAT ON EARTH WERE THEY THINKING?!?!

It looks like algae....or mold.....maybe fungus? No, it looks like someone ate some shrooms, threw up and then decided the resulting mess would make a lovely home textile. Then in 1974 some old broad discovered it and thought it would look smashing in her master bathroom.

That wallpaper is a fantastic argument against recreational drug use.

Watermelons and Other Memories

I'm taking a Storytelling course this semester. The following was my first performance piece for the class.

"Water-Melon...A penny a slice for Water-Melon!" That was the watermelon song, or at least, that was how I thought of it when I was 3 years old.

Back then, during the dog-days of summer, when the sun sizzled and it felt like it was hotter than the surface of the sun, my brother and I would head out to the backyard. We would bury the bottom half of our faces in cool and refreshing hunks of watermelon. Our chins, necks and hands would drip with sweet and sticky watermelon juice and "Thhhhhhhwat" we would spit out the seeds.

While Grandma would chop the watermelon, Grandpa would sing "The Watermelon Song". It wasn't until I was in high school that I gave the lyrics of the "song" any thought. That's when it finally occurred to me that he was simply reminiscing about the street vendor who peddled fresh produce in the New York neighborhood where he grew up.

I had a small case of hero worship for Grandpa. Many girls have that kind of relationship with their fathers. I didn't, so Grandpa filled that role in my life. Grandpa was the one I went to when I skinned my knee and needed soothing. Grandpa was the one I went to when I needed to talk to someone...about anything. Grandpa was the one who made everything seem alright in the world. Grandpa was the one who made me feel safe and secure.

I thought Grandpa was invincible. I thought he was almost immortal. I thought he was a large hulking and strong man! I find that funny in retrospect because the reality is, I come from short people. Grandpa was only around 5' 5" and he probably weighed around 150 or 160 pounds. But when you are three years old your perspective of your heroes tends to be a bit larger than life.

Grandpa was a gentle man. He was kind, thoughtful, compassionate and the eternal optimist. He always tried to look for the best in people. He was so easygoing; he never lost his temper or raised his voice. I didn't learn until after he died that he never finished high school, and yet he was a self made intellect. He watched and read the news on a daily basis. Politics and world issues were things he discussed regularly with his friends. I strongly suspect that if he were a college student in today's world he would be highly interested in Political Science, Peace Studies and World History.

During the last 3 years of his life, as his body wore down, his mind paralleled that journey. Dementia started to set in. He had his good days where he remembered his name and continued on his daily routines. He would walk out to the recreation center in the community where he lived and he would sit and chat up his pals, discussing politics and foreign policy, among other things. He had his OK days where he remembered his name, but you probably couldn't have any kind of in depth conversation with him. And then he had his bad days where it seemed like he had a bad case of temporary amnesia.

I inadvertently visited him on one of those days about a year before he died. Grandma wasn't there; I guess she was visiting with her friends. I sat down with Grandpa and started up a conversation. For 10 minutes we spoke, but he sat there with an extremely confused look on his face. Finally he said to me, "Who are you?" He didn't recognize me. It broke my heart. After I left I pulled my car over the side of the road and cried my eyes out. I said to myself aloud, "Is this how it is? Is this how it ends?!" That was not how I wanted to remember my Grandpa. It was even more upsetting because that was not how he wanted to be remembered.

My grandparents weren't really religious people, but it was important to them to at least recognize the more significant Jewish holidays. Passover was one of them. My standard joke has always been I'm a lousy Jew. I'm not religious. There are a million things I would rather spend my time doing, than celebrating Passover. It's a labor intensive holiday in terms of food preparation because there is so much symbolism regarding food. Passover is a bit of a chore for me; it's a drag. But we went through the motions because it was important to Grandma and Grandpa. We didn't necessarily have a full seder, but we at least ate the foods related to the holiday.

For the Passover of 1997 my stepfather Jerry was the designated driver. He drove around town and rounded up all the grandparents. When we all sat down to dinner that evening Grandpa started talking about current events. He had watched the news that afternoon and he wanted to talk about it. He was having one of his good days. He talked about all sorts of things that night. He repeated some of his favorite old stories. Like the time Grandma and Grandpa had the interior of their Bronx apartment painted. (The moral of that story was, if you ever want something faux painted, hire a pro, rather than trust it to unskilled workers who don't know the language.) Or the story about the miserly and crotchety, rent-controlled tenant who lived in the building where Grandpa housed his business. (He tried to swindle Grandpa out of some money over the old fashioned, claw foot bathtub he had abandoned in the basement of the building and his plan backfired magnificently.) He spoke in detail about the day he installed the ceiling fan in the vaulted ceiling of our living room. (He had to climb up a 12 foot ladder to do it and he had been well into his 80's at the time.)

He even got a little verschnickered on Manischewitz kosher wine. (If you've never tried the stuff, imagine the overly sweet grape juice you drank as a kid, only slightly fermented. That's what Manischewitz tastes like.) Grandma said, "Irv, you shouldn't drink so much!" and Grandpa replied with a big grin, "What? It's not like I'm gonna drive home!" We all got a good laugh out of that one. He had voluntarily given up his drivers license a few years earlier.

That night Grandpa was ON! It was as if his mental clock had, for that one magical evening, turned back 10 years. It was, as they say on TV, priceless!

Towards the end of the evening Jerry rounded up all the grandparents to drive them all home. We said our goodbyes and then the door closed. The evening was over.

That was the last time I saw him. Later that evening, the first night of Passover, my Grandpa peacefully passed away.

My (former) vice

I have a confession to make. I used to drive an SUV. In 1998 I bought a Honda CRV. It was a small SUV and it accommodated all of my work gear much better than any small car available at the time. The price of gas was also right around $1 a gallon back then, so fill ups were cheap. 2 years ago, in 2006, it was dying so I traded it in for a Honda Element-another small SUV. But gas had more than doubled and I was starting to feel guilty about my SUV habit. I (stupidly) chose not to look too closely at the Toyota Matrix, the only small car at the time that might have fit my purposes and I would have trusted in terms of mechanical reliability. While the Element was absolutely fantastic for lugging around all of my work gear, I felt increasingly uncomfortable about driving an SUV when gas prices had jumped skyward and would obviously only continue spiraling up. I also felt like a hypocrite criticizing large SUV drivers when I too, was driving an SUV (even if my vehicle was smaller).

As it happens, a few months ago when we replaced my husband's aging Honda Accord, he opted for the fuel efficient Honda Fit. Once he was off for summer break I started driving his car around town to save on gas. And then it happened last weekend-the last weekend in June. On Friday night he suggested that it might be prudent to dump my SUV while we could still get rid of it and while dealers might actually take it as a trade. He assumed in another 6 months or a year no dealer would touch it. So I took his Fit on a dry run the next day. I loaded up all of my gear and off I went to a gig 40 miles away. Everything fit quite nicely; certainly much better than I had anticipated. Friends and neighbors, I can attest that a Fender Passport, several large Rubbermaid cases, 20 hula hoops, a 24 pack of toilet paper (don't ask-you'd be surprised how much a pack of toilet paper can entertain a bunch of kids) and various other miscellaneous gear, can easily fit in the back of a Honda Fit...and won't block your vision while driving. (All that gear doesn't even reach the height of the headrests!)

When I got home from work we headed to the Honda dealer with my SUV. Two and a half hours later I drove off the lot, with a brand new Honda Fit. So now we're a 2 Fit family. Now I feel perfectly free to make fun at the expense of Hummer, Yukon, Suburban and Expedition owners everywhere! I also feel like I'm setting a good example for my kid.

Library manners

As I type this I'm sitting in the public library, supposedly working on a school project. I am determined to get a lot of work done on it, as it's due in 2 days. I want it to be done already! So I set my laptop up in one of those tiny, desk sized cubicles. I'm surrounded by books and I'm ready to go.

I am the kind of person who does not work well with distractions. My husband works best with the radio blaring, the TV on, and a herd of small elephants running around him. He claims it as a side effect of his dyslexia. I on the other hand work best in silence.

For the record, dyslexia runs on my side of the family too. I have long suspected that I am mildly dyslexic, though never tested or diagnosed. I suppose my brain operates differently than his. Minor sounds that no one else would hear, like the quiet whirring of a machine, or someone lightly tapping their feet, annoy the heck out of me.

This particular project requires that I briefly look through 10 books. I don't need to check them out, I just need to look through them.

Well there's a turkey a few cubicles down who is reading out loud. He started out whispering, but he has gotten a bit louder. Right now it sounds like he's mumbling to himself. It's INCREDIBLY annoying! I really don't want to pick all my gear up to move. But jeeze, why is it necessary to read aloud?!?!

Grrrrrrrrr! Fuck it. In self defense I picked all my stuff up (as loudly as possible) and stomped off to another area. Stupid schmuck! If you want to read aloud, do it at home. That's why you're not supposed to yap on a cell phone in the library!

Old Friends

Living on the information superhighway, things have a way of finding themselves in your inbox. I recently received a message from someone I went to high school with. I didn't respond; it wasn't someone I am interested in having contact with. But it got me thinking about 2 guys who were in my art classes senior year. They tried to keep in touch with me for a while after graduation, but I was busy with school and work and we lost contact. They were intellectual geek types. They were also extremely loyal, kind and compassionate. I regret loosing contact. I also drifted away from a girl who was pretty much my best friend during my senior year and my first few years of college. I really don't know how we drifted apart. It's weird; I can't comprehend it. I loved her dearly and I have no idea where on earth she is.

I tried googling all their names. I found 2 of them on Linked In, but you must have a paid account to send a message on their site. Grrrrr! None seem to be on Myspace or Facebook. Why is it that the people who you want to get in touch with are the most difficult to track down?

Leopard or Vista...that is the question

This week my husband I have started to realize that our XP machine is reaching it's end. I've been exceptionally happy with our home computer. But we upgraded the RAM about a year and a half ago and it's still slow. We got 5 years out of it, so I have no complaints. But the thing is starting to do really wonky stuff. Like this past week when it didn't want to send and receive messages when I opened Outlook. I'm sure there are things we can do to tune it up, but the reality is that it's approaching time for a new computer.

Which brings me to our conundrum. I've always used Windows based machines. I've always liked Windows. But I've heard some unhappy tales about Vista. Like the fact that it's a major memory hog. I've read that the 1st service pack alone takes up at least a gig. It's also notorious for running e......x.......t.......r.......e.......m........e.........l......y slow. I've heard that it tries to be Mac OS, but fails miserably.

My husband has been using Mac's at work. While he likes Windows XP, he enjoys the simplicity and ease of use with Mac. Interestingly, when he first got this job almost 4 years ago, he was given an ancient Mac Book. It had a pitifully small hard drive and wasn't anything spectacular. My guy was less than impressed and couldn't figure out why so many people raved about Macs. Then they upgraded him to a brand new MacBook which gave him a whole new perspective.

He works for the local public school district. When he visits a school and works with the staff, if he has to print using a network printer from a PC he claims it's a laborious process that is a pain in the tuchus. The same printing job from a Mac takes seconds. It's a touch of button on the keyboard. Overall he enjoys Mac OS, which he feels is more intuitive and runs smoother.

So we're seriously considering a Mac. Mac's are more expensive, but my guy thinks it's worth the additional few hundred dollars. He hasn't used Leopard though; Mac's new operating system. But everyone he knows who has used it, loves it. When I buy cars and electronics I always buy for reliability and practicality first. However, I must admit, I like Mac aesthetics. Macs are beautiful machines; minimalist anodized aluminum and glass in a sleek, all-in-one package. They look smart and elegant on a desk.

This is something we will likely be mulling over for a few months. (If my guy, by some miracle, gets a much wanted promotion to assistant principal, I'll push the issue a bit more, later this summer.) I think at some point we will need to make a trip to the Apple store and ask some questions...and play with some computers.

The incredibly offensive lactating breast

It seems that if given a choice between owning as many guns as is humanly possible, or (shudder) seeing a mother breastfeed a baby, many neocons would choose the guns. Apparently a lactating breast is too much for them to even contemplate. (I will remind you, we are talking about the "Right to Life" crowd.)

My husband's buddy, I like to call him "Smith" (as in, Smith and Wesson), is a bit of a neocon. He claims he favors individual rights and is against big government. He's made plenty of statements that contradict that supposed stance. I keep thinking my husband just can't surprise me anymore with any of Smith's baloney, but he always proves me wrong.

The latest? Smith thinks people should be able to smoke in restaurants and in public places. But a mother should not be allowed to breastfeed her baby in those same public places. He likens breastfeeding to defecating. It really irks me when uptight numskulls make that analogy. They claim that yes, breastfeeding is natural, but so is pooping. To my way of thinking, eating...in a restaurant, is normal and natural. Why shouldn't a baby eat with the rest of the family? And for the life of me I cannot figure out what is supposed to be so disgusting about breastfeeding or breasts in general anyway. Smith told my husband that breastfeeding women allow themselves to just "hang out". My husband said, "Really? Where have you seen that?" He didn't get a response from Smith.

It was rather stupid of Smith to say that to my husband, of all men. After all, I breastfed Little Man until he was 2 1/2. (Yeah, apparently I'm quite the wild woman.) My husband is rather in tune with breastfeeding mamas and he's quite the nursing proponent. We attended a picnic for the local midwifery association when Little Man was 4 months old and there were quite a few nursing women there. That was the only place we ever saw any nursing mamas "hanging out" in public (yours truly was among the hanging-out crowd).

Smith however, doesn't see anything wrong with a baby breathing someone's nasty secondhand smoke. Smith also happens to be a gun-nut. He thinks people should be allowed to own as many guns as they want and they should be able to "protect themselves". So let me get this straight, guns and shooting people are ok, but breastfeeding is bad. Well heck, my 5 year old son knows that just doesn't make sense. Even he knows that a baby "drinks milk from it's mommy's boobies". If a 5 year old can get it right, why can't the neocons?

Crap schools vs decent schools

Little man is starting Kindergarten this fall. The school we're zoned for, to put it bluntly, sucks. We applied for a magnet program instead...denied. We applied for reassignement...denied. The district seems intent on keeping us in the crappy school. I've been back and forth with our home school all week asking for a school tour. I made it clear I wanted to see a few classrooms during the tour too. I'm asking for what a majority of the decent schools in the district offer parents freely and readily.

I spoke to the principal today and I suspect that she has misinterpreted my request for a tour. She seems to be under the misguided notion that I am asking for a kidney, or perhaps her left lung. I'm very aggravated with the school. She didn't appreciate my pointing out that they haven't met AYP with No Child Left Behind. I was simply stating fact. She acted like I was asking for special treatment. No, I think all parents should be given what I'm asking for without question. Schools should operate with transparency and parents should be welcomed with open arms rather than pushed away. I plan on reporting that to the district too. I'm left wondering what she is so worried about; what does she have to hide.

Edited to add: We did end up getting that school tour we had been requesting. The building is brand new (which I had already known) so it's nice and clean. But I was not terribly impressed with what I saw in the kindergarten classes. Little Man is just completing pre-k but is mentally and intellectually about a year ahead of the kids we saw.

Teacher: Class, what is today's date?
Class (all together): Wednesday, May..............16th?..................30th?...............Ummmmm.....
Little Man (stated firmly and with conviction): Today is Wednesday, May 28th.

Teacher: What letter does the word "pig" start with?
Kindergarten student (whispering, looking to the floor and shuffling feet): Ummm, W?.......Ummm, T? Ummm............................
Little Man (shouting): P! Pig starts with P!

I don't think Little Man is necessarily "gifted" or the next Boy Genius. He's a kid of average or maybe a bit above average intelligence. But we encourage and nurture education in our home and he's gotten a fantastic start at his preschool. He's going in ahead of the curve. If he ended up in our home school we would be doing him a disservice. He would be bored out of his skull and would end up wreaking havoc in his class.

The tour however wasn't for naught. The silver lining was toward the end, just before we left. The woman in charge of curriculum, who brought us on the tour, gave us a packet of registration paperwork. Included in it was a request for reassignment for school choice, based on the fact that they haven't met AYP. (They are required by the district to give everyone that paper.) I almost did a cartwheel when I saw that! That was the paper I've wanted for the past month.

Nope, Little Man will not be attending school there.

Looser Boy

I dated a guy in the mid 1990's, who turned out to be a waste of my time. The first moment I met him, my immediate reaction was that he seemed a bit shallow. But a friend introduced us and I thought I shouldn't be so quick to judge; after all, she must have had a reason for introducing us. I figured I should give him a chance. I'll call him LB, short for Looser Boy, here.

I ended up dating him for a short time. His friends turned out to be complete jerks. The fact that he freely chose to hang out with losers like that was a sign that concerned me, but one I initially ignored. While he was nice to me when we were alone, in general he tended to follow the herd in their presence. They reminded me of infantile caricature frat boys from movies; throwing food in restaurants to be funny for example. (Those guys made Stifler from the American Pie movies look mature and intellectual.) They made fun of me behind my back and he never said a word in my defense. He just followed his buddies like the sheep he was. And no, they weren't college kids. I was in my early 20's, but they were 5-8 years older than I was. I couldn't comprehend how guys in their mid to late 20's could consistently act like Neanderthals. I didn't understand why he chose such lame people for friends.

Toward the very end of our relationship, there was an incident at a concert where his friends screamed insults and taunts at a few wheelchair bound people in the handicapped section. Fortunately the crowd at large was so loud no one beyond our group heard. But I was beyond mortified; I was absolutely livid. When LB realized how upset I was and why, instead of being supportive, he asked me why I was ruining his time. Through slit eyes and flared nostrils, I looked down my nose at him and demanded, "Why are your friends ruining my time?!" The only reason I didn't dump him there and then was because I didn't have enough cab fare to get home. I was stuck, but I was also done with LB.

There were other aspects about his personality and our sexual relationship that made it abundantly clear how self-centered and selfish he was. He would attempt to force me to watch porn I wasn't comfortable with or try to coerce me into doing things outside my comfort zone. I however stuck to my guns. I am a firm believer in respecting a lover's boundaries. So all he succeeded in doing was earn my lack of trust.

Needless to say, I dumped him. It was clear that if I stayed with him it had the potential to get serious (he seemed to be getting serious). There was no way I wanted to spend my life with him. He wanted a long term relationship, but I would never stay with someone who showed such a lack of regard for my feelings.

A year later I dated a guy who coincidentally knew one of his friends. Ironically, she warned him to watch out for me. LB apparently claimed he broke up with me because I was pressuring him for marriage! (I had to laugh at that one.) I guess he wasn't comfortable telling his friends I was the one that broke it off. The really sad part is I don't think he ever completely comprehended why I left him. He just didn't get it.

So fast forward to 2008. Out of curiosity, the other day I googled his name. Low and behold...I found mondo dirt. We are knee deep in a recession that is being largely affected by the current mortgage crisis. Part of said crisis deals with sleaze-ball financiers who prey on people that cannot afford their mortgage and credit payments. They fed empty promises to vulnerable people claiming a helping hand in refinancing to get these people back on firm financial ground. In reality they ended up foreclosing and essentially stealing people's homes. They are nasty vultures. Well it turns out LB is named among a list of defendants in a criminal case against one of those companies. The state is going after him and his cronies. In short, Looser Boy is accused of being one of those vultures.

On top of that he's involved in an insurance fraud case. He's again named as a financier involved with an apartment complex destroyed by a hurricane several years ago. Apparently the majority of the insurance money was never used to repair the complex, as it was marked for, and now the state is going after them.

Very sad indeed. He is educated, and back when we dated he had a good job. If he continued on that path and invested his money wisely he would have been quite comfortable. Not necessarily rich, but definitely comfortable; upper middle class. Instead there's a good chance he's facing possible jail time. How sad.

Exercise really is good for you!

I had gotten out of my exercise routine (read-Jazzercize) for close to a year. In that time I gained somewhere in the neighborhood of 15-20 pounds. That doesn't sound like much, but it has been bothering me. So, just over a month ago, I went back to Jazzercize. The owner of the franchise immediately (gladly) signed me back on a class manager. Truth be told, the only reason I want to be a class manager is because it forces me to get my butt in as often as possible. In addition, right now it's saving me a little bit of money. I haven't lost any weight yet, or at least not enough to make a noticeable difference. But I feel better and that's really the most important thing.

Group Project Rant

I really hate having to depend on other people for my grade. I have a major group project due in 2 days. We had said earlier this semester that we would work on the project right after spring break so that we wouldn't end up scrambling at the last minute. But that didn't happen. My group kept procrastinating like it was going out of style. The communication has been horrendous. Ironically, we're all communication majors. I've been trying a bit more than everyone else, but of course the one girl who had everyone's contact info never emailed it to me, even though I asked for it countless times.

Meanwhile, I'm the one who is putting together the Power Point presentation. I'm stuck waiting on their work to plug into the PP. One of my group partners emailed me their stuff and oh-my-gosh, it's complete crap! How did they manage to get through school if that's the quality of their work?! One of my other partners still hasn't finished their work. The other one seems to be email impaired.

I'm really annoyed right now.

Fluffiness

Before we adopted our cat, my son informed me that if we got one, it would be named "Fluffy". I asked him what would happen if we didn't end up with a long-haired cat. He told me it didn't matter; the cat would still be "Fluffy". I do not like the name. It doesn't suit our little feline. I also find it boring and trite. It sounds like something an unimaginative kid would name a pet, yet our boy is usually creative. He's come up with much more lively names for his stuffed animals. He dubbed a stuffed cat "Wonjee". I find myself wishing he would have graced our cat with that moniker. I wanted to name her "Tonks" after the character in the Harry Potter books. My husband insisted that we should allow our 5 year old to name the cat. I was outvoted and "Fluffy" stuck.

When we brought her home she had an upper respiratory infection; the equivalent of a kitty cold. She also had 2 different kinds of worms. She has since healed and is doing quite well. She's very curious-typical for cats. She follows us around and is extremely affectionate; she's a sociable creature. She has also become rather talkative and is usually eager to carry on a meowing conversation with any willing participant. She is intrigued by the bathtub/shower. She follows us into the bathroom and waits while we shower or bathe. Sometimes she'll simply sit on the toilet-seat, other times she'll actually poke her head through the shower curtain to check things out. She hopped into the bathtub with me twice (and then immediately ran out of the bathroom in a frenzy).

Here she is:

At the county Animal Control Shelter

My experience at the cat shelter left me really upset. I felt a bit of guilt about putting Moe to sleep. Yet after I calmed down a bit I realized that when I think about him and his situation I know I would make the same decision without hesitation. Knowing that makes me realize without a doubt that regardless of what that judgmental lady at the cat shelter thinks of me, I made the right choice for Moe.

So I thought that maybe our county's animal control shelter (aka the "pound") might be a better place to look for a cat. I figured they would be less judgmental and more interested in actually getting the animals adopted. Animal control can't keep the animals indefinitely, so when you adopt one you really are saving a life.

On Monday my son and I headed over to the pound. I had thought (or should I say assumed) that I would get a large male cat. In reality we found an incredibly sweet and dainty female with spunk. She climbed out of her cage and into my lap as if to say, "I'm ready to go home now!" She's a lovely little tabby cat with white feet; she looks like she's wearing little slippers. She's extremely affectionate and just loves to be cuddled. She sleeps in my bed; this morning I woke up to find her curled up on my pillow. She's also getting a bit more talkative, although she has a rather wimpy voice. I suppose she could be described as soft spoken.

The people were nicer at the pound too. I feel a lot better about the whole situation. I'm glad I got another cat too. The house felt entirely too quiet.

Fundamentalism and (in)equality

Over the years I've noticed that male chauvinism tends to be fairly prevalent and consistent among most fundamentalist groups, regardless of branding. I've seen it with Christian, Muslim and Jewish fundamentalist groups. There's a kosher restaurant close to my house that I enjoy. It's owned by an orthodox Jewish guy. The owner is always polite to me, but one of his employees is a complete jerk. I've noticed he's rude to most of the female customers. He knows exactly how I like my falafel pita prepared and yet he never makes it the way I want it. As a result I (who rarely complains at restaurants) have stopped allowing him to touch my food. I found out recently that said jerkoff is getting married soon. Before I had the chance to ask who on earth would marry that moron, I was told it was an arranged marriage. I immediately felt sorry for his soon to be, extremely sexually frustrated and miserable, wife.

However, I can say that regardless of the fact that the owner is nice there are little things which make me realize the owner is a chauvinist too. They have 2 bathrooms. The men's room is the larger of the rooms and has it's own sink. The women's room is barely large enough for the toilet and women must use the sink in the hallway.

There are a number of orthodox Jewish women who frequent this restaurant with small children. In addition, it's a very basic scientific fact that due to physiology, women are going to get their hands messier in the restroom than men do. But the moron who owns the place gave the guys the larger restroom with the sink.

I remember going there one day for lunch when my son was about 6 months old. I had my boy bundled up in a sling. As I approached the door there were about 5 orthodox Jewish men blocking the entrance. I said, "Excuse me" about 3 times and finally one guy moved himself...less than a foot away from the door. I had to shove my way through. Now if I were in front of a door and someone was approaching with their hands full, regardless of whether or not it was a man or woman, I would open the door for them. It's just simple common courtesy. But there I was, with my arms full of a baby (yes he was in the sling, but I was still holding him) and the jerks couldn't even move their asses away from the door.

On the flip side, across town there is another kosher restaurant, with a similar menu. I actually like that place better but it's further from my home, so I don't go there as much. It's also family owned, by Jews. (I should probably clarify that I am, in fact, Jewish-although I'm reformed almost to the point of non-practicing.) At that restaurant the wife plays a strong role in running the place and I'm treated much better there. I think they treat women in general better; it definitely has a more egalitarian atmosphere. I'm fairly certain they aren't quite as religious as the owner of the other place.

Either way, it really irks me that the first restaurant treats women with such disdain. It really makes me feel like my business is not appreciated and it pisses off my feminist side. I think of all those bumper stickers that say, "What would Jesus do?" and it makes me wonder-what would Gloria Steinem do?

At the local cat shelter

As I mentioned, after a month or so of pondering, I had my cat of 12 years put to sleep. Even before I made the decision I knew I would want to get another cat. It's still too soon, but I know it will happen at some point. So this afternoon, out of curiosity I decided to check out a local cat shelter. I found out about them online. They specialize in cats and they have a lot of animals at their shelter. It was a nice place and it seemed that all the cats were well cared for. As it happened, most of the cats there were adults. Adults are harder to find homes for. But I specifically wanted a young adult.

I explained to the ladies (they were all volunteers) about our family and household dynamics and what kind of animal I was looking for and they immediately thought of one big boy. He was about 2 years old and was a huge tabby. He probably weighed close to 20 pounds! He let me hold him and then I set him down and started petting him. After a few seconds he started to lick my hand. When a cat licks you like that it's a pretty clear sign of approval. When I stopped petting him to talk to the volunteers he meowed at me for more attention. He would have been a great match for us. He was a sweetheart; very outgoing and affectionate. As I walked around the place he followed me. Just the kind of cat I want. And definitely big enough to hold his own against a rambunctious 5 year old child.

Then the volunteers started asking me more pointed questions. When we discussed Moe they started to frown. The conversation went downhill from there. I honestly told them that our condos official policy is no pets, but unofficially it's a kind of "don't ask, don't tell". We had Moe here for 7 years and everyone (including management and the condo board) knew. But we were discreet and responsible and no one minded one bit. The cat ladies didn't like that at all. The main woman in charge all but accused me of putting my cat to sleep for absolutely no reason. "13 isn't old for a cat; 20 is old for a cat." She made me feel horrible and made it pretty clear I wasn't good enough to adopt one of her cats.

Making the decision to put your cat to sleep is an agonizing and horrible choice to have to make. It was bad enough to have to do that, but to be treated like that was just awful. I shouldn't have to justify it to anyone.

Meanwhile that lady has a shelter full of animals who need homes. Most of which are adults and will be very difficult to adopt out. The one I liked had been there for a year. They told me they have to cage him at night because he didn't get along with the black cats. (Apparently he had a bad experience with a black cat when he was younger and kept his guard up.) I could have given him a happy home and instead of sleeping in a cage he could have slept in my bed. But I wasn't good enough. They feed him generic grocery store cat food. Over the years I fed my cat Iams, Nutro and Science Diet. It's been my experience that cats usually have a fantastic ability to judge character and in the most successful adoptions it's the cat that chooses the owner, not the other way around. He would have been quite pleased to come home with me. But no, my "excuse" for putting Moe to sleep wasn't good enough for them.

They completely ignored the fact that I was (am) extremely concerned about making sure that we and the cat are matched up well. They ignored the fact that I made it clear that this would be a strictly indoor cat who would have access to a screened patio (perfect for bird watching). They completely disregarded the 12 years I had with Moe. No, I put my cat to sleep so I was an "undesirable".

Oh and interestingly enough, they aren't opposed to declawing, as long as it's a young cat. I thought that was weird for an animal rights group; a bit out of character for cat lovers. I'm not going to cast judgment against anyone for declawing their cat, I know it's something some cat owners feel is necessary, particularly when they have small children in the house. It's just something I would prefer not to do to my own pet given a choice. And the majority of cats in that shelter were overweight. There were very few lean and athletic cats there. Now I happen to like fat cats, but I did think it was a bit odd to see so many of them in one place. I thought it was a sign that they have been there entirely too long.

Ok, so they are making sure the cats aren't destroyed by the humane society or animal control. But how fair is it to the animals to be so incredibly stringent in your adoption guidelines that you effectively rule out people who really would be loving and responsible owners? How fair is it to keep them in a shelter rather than get them into safe and caring homes? A bit more subjectivity would be appropriate and in the best interests of the cats. And in my case the experience just taught me to lie to the next shelter. "No, I haven't had a cat since I last lived with my mom. Sure, my condo association allows pets." Honestly should be the best policy, but apparently that's not always the case.

RIP Moe

12 years ago I brought home a beautiful long-haired black cat. His name was Moe. He was a year old when I adopted him. He was an absolute sweetheart, incredibly affectionate and he had character. He was so cool. He was rather vocal when he was younger and I could have entire meowing conversations with him. He had a loud purr too. He was a big cat; at his largest he weighed close to 18 pounds! He usually slept on my bed. He hogged the bed. I don't know how he did it, but when the weather was cool he somehow managed to get into the very center of the bed and shove us to the sides. My husband and I would wake up only to discover Moe, spread eagle, in the middle of the bed, wrapped in the comforter. We would barely have a scrap of blanket. If he wanted attention he would do the dog thing; that is, he would tap you with his paw. When you rubbed his head or his back he would reciprocate by licking you. He greeted us at the door when we came home, he came when we called him, and when he was younger he did some really funny stuff.

One time he managed to get himself stuck in the drop ceiling in the kitchen of our previous home. I remember I couldn't find him. As far as I knew, he had disappeared. I was frantically searching the house for him. Right in the middle of a panic attack-wondering where my baby was-I stood in the kitchen and looked up, as if seeking divine intervention. When I saw a big black shadow appear in the plastic ceiling tiles. And then he meowed. I realized he must have climbed on top of the fridge and while exploring, found his way inside that drop ceiling, but couldn't figure out where the exit was. He seemed to have lost interest in sitting on top of the fridge after that.

Over the past few years he noticeably aged. Some relatives were in town about a month ago. They hadn't seen Moe in about 2 years and they were shocked at how shabby he had gotten. I guess I didn't notice it so much because I was around him every day. He had always been very proud of his silky, long fur. He spent hours grooming himself. But over the past few years he just didn't have the energy anymore. He was having serious digestive problems. Rather than going into icky details, suffice it to say it was getting rather messy and smelly around here. I don't think anyone could go through that without serious discomfort. Beyond that I could tell he hadn't been happy for a long time.

Today I brought him to the vet knowing I might not be bringing him home. After I explained his symptoms, she thought he might have thyroid problems. So she suggested running a series of blood work. The thing is, if the tests came back positive for a thyroid condition he would have had to be medicated for the rest of his life. There was no guarantee that medication would clear up his "messy" problems either and even if it did, it wasn't a cure. I really felt like that would just be prolonging the inevitable. He was sick and would only get sicker. So I asked her about putting him to sleep.

As it happens, I have an online friend who had a cat that had been in a similar situation and suffered so severely from thyroid disease, that he ended up having a seizure that killed him. She said he wasted away to skin and bones. She couldn't bring herself to put him down and he suffered for it. She was very supportive about my decision to put him down.

He went out very quickly and peacefully. I held him while he left. He didn't suffer as I know he would have if I had kept him alive, but medicated. I cried the whole way home. I knew it was the right time for Moe, myself and my family, but that's never a decision anyone wants to make. Despite my husband and my son, the house feels strangely empty; as if someone is missing. I kept his litter box in the cabinet under my bathroom sink. It's so weird to look at that cabinet with the door closed. I keep having this nagging feeling that I'm supposed to open it for him, yet he's not around to use the loo.

He was my companion and my first baby before I even met my husband. He kept me company when I was sick or upset. He gave me his stamp of approval when I met my husband. He actually peed on my guy in the first few weeks we were dating to "mark" him. It definitely wasn't done as an insult either; he was staking his claim on my soon to be husband. Thankfully my guy had a great sense of humor about it. Moe was a fantastic judge of character. He was a wonderful cat. Rest in peace my beautiful Moe.

Waste of a day

Jury duty are the two key words here. A few weeks ago I received a summons for jury duty. I thought, "Oh bummer." A day or two later I received a duplicate summons. I suppose they started sending everyone duplicates to send a clear message that they mean business.

Everyone gave me advice on what to say to get out of it. I heard some crazy stuff too! "Tell them you're studying pre-law." "Tell them you have a good friend who's a cop and that you are very pro-cop." "Tell them you think the system is bust and you don't trust it." Yada, yada, yada. The thing is you actually need to find yourself in a courtroom to have the opportunity to say any of those things. One lady today actually told the jury coordinator that jury duty was "against her religion". Another moron first claimed he was sick (he actually brought a medical mask with him) then later claimed he was a student. Nope, if you have a conflict of interest or some other problem it's not relevant until you are actually in a courtroom.

My summons informed me that I was to check in no later than 8:30. I arrived early to the jurors room. At around 8:45 we received jury duty "orientation"-which was a joke. I took Civics in middle school and American Government in high school, so I understand how and why our government is set up the way it is. Although I suppose if you slept through all of your social studies classes you just might need the crash course in civics.

After the "orientation" (read-waste of my time) they started calling people for cases. Then they stopped. And I sat...

...and sat,

...and sat,

and then I did something really original...I sat some more. I read the book I toted to the courthouse. I actually dozed off for a while. Then around 10:40 they started calling people for more cases. Finally at 10:45 I was called!

...and my group was informed that the judge wanted us to take a lunch break and come back at 1:15. Yes-we were told to take a 2 1/2 hour lunch break. So I wandered the downtown district aimlessly for a bit. I had lunch. I unfortunately found the worst Starbucks in town. (Seriously! I always get a decaf-Cafe Mocha. They screwed it up not once, but twice! It tasted bitter, like burnt coffee. ICK!) And then eventually meandered back to the courthouse.

My group came back at 1:15...and sat around for another half an hour until finally the bailiff called us all into the actual courtroom. The judge then gave us his spiel about why jury duty is important to our justice system. Like I said, I took civics so none of it was news to me. Then just as we were about to get down to business the bailiff said, "Excuse me, we have a verdict!" Apparently the defendant copped a plea-at least I assume. Then the judge asked us all to wait in the hall. We sat there for another half hour only to come back...to be sent home.

I really had much better things to do with my day. What a waste of my time and energy.

Never piss off your hairdresser

I saw something recently that reminded me of the movie "Sixteen Candles". You know, that Molly Ringwald teen flick from the mid 1980's. There is a scene in the movie where the quintessential "popular" girl is completely trashed. The girl is so far gone that she really isn't aware of what is going on around her. Her hair gets stuck in a door and someone takes a scissor and simply hacks her hair (instead of trying to get the door unlocked). Surprisingly, over the past few months I've seen an increasing number of women with that hairstyle. For the life of me I cannot figure out why someone would ask a hairdresser to deliberately fuck up their hair. But apparently some people think it's a good idea. I mean...why would you want to walk around looking like you got into a fight with a lawnmower...and lost?

I think if I asked my hairdresser to do that she would check my temperature to make sure I was alright. It's possible she would simply ask me if I'm on drugs. She just might even try to Baker Act me. However I always try to be especially nice to my hairdresser (& my mechanic). There are certain people in your life who you simply should not piss off; you hairdresser and mechanic being among them. They're entirely too important!