Sick Baby

My posting will taper off this week while I try to juggle a big deadline at work, and my sick grandson.

Our new little baby is in the hospital, and they don't know what is wrong with him. The poor guy has been stuck in every place imaginable.

So those of you inclined to pray, please say one for our little guy. The rest of you just keep positive thoughts for him. I truly appreciate it...and all of you.

I DON'T Want to Talk About It!

I know what you're thinking, and I don't want to talk about it.

I love Trojan Football. And like anything you love, it has the ability to hurt you...deeply. Last night during the game, I developed actual hives on my forearm. I am not kidding. Today, I have a stomach ache. It isn't as bad as the one I had after this game, but still.

Then I have to come to work today and endure the torture of everyone in the freaking office parading by my door with their hideous cackles of laughter over my team's demise, and for my part, I have to smile and pretend I find this all very funny.

I don't.

To quote my college roommate, who called me at half-time last night, "This isn't fucking funny!"

No. It isn't.

But I can't say this at work, or I am labeled a bitch. And if I try to explain how these fringe haters don't understand, because they didn't go to USC, and thus could never possibly understand the level of intensity, devotion and emotional investment I have in this football team...well then I am labeled a crazy bitch.

Maybe I am. See I love Trojan football, but I do not like it. I have completely lost the joy in victory...for it is expected, but the agony of defeat...that one I totally get. While I still love Pete Carroll, I am very disappointed in him. Did this team learn nothing two years ago when OSU did this very same thing to them? Seriously? NOTHING?

I think I have developed an ulcer. I need to lie down.

Living the Life

CO and I spent our weekend at a car show. Not unusual or noteworthy in and of itself, but then, a car pulls up near us, and that is where the story begins.

It was a white, 1980's kit car of some sort (I am not the car aficionado, and I don't recall CO saying anything but "kit car" when asked what it was). Anyway, there were no doors. The roof lifts up in some weird spaceshippy way to allow access in and out of the car. So up goes the roof, and this guy steps out.

He had a full blown mullet, adorned with a black and white checkered bandanna around his forehead. He wore a single long earring, a muscle shirt with a faded band logo on it, and acid-washed jeans. He had leather driving gloves with the fingers cut out on his hands, and a leather wrist band with silver spikes. He wore black high top tennis shoes of some sort...not Converse, but something I have not seen on feet since high school, that I am sure they don't make any more. The kind with padding around the ankles for comfort.

The car seats were covered in balck and white leopard print fabric, and there was a matching steering wheel cover.

I could kick myself for not taking pictures. You really had to see it to appreciate it. I was too mesmerized by the scene to even reach for the camera. Besides, I was too busy straining to hear if the Miami Vice Theme was issuing from the car, a la The Wedding Singer. It wasn't, but it really should have been. It would have made the moment perfect.

The sad thing was, I got the distinct impression that this was not a costume, but a lifestyle. There was the mullet, you see. I mean you can't just grow a mullet for a weekend. It has to be planned in advance...with intent and purpose.

Soon...too soon really, for I was not done giggling, the dude gets back in his car, and pulls back onto the cruise route, cutting off another car, and about taking him out in the process. The roof lifts up just a tiny bit, and I see the guy's passenger, presumably his wife, holding up a sign facing backwards to the car they just rudely cut off, reading "Let Me In." She then flips it over so that it reads "Thanks," and they zoom off.

Me: "If you start dressing like that, I am not coming to any more car shows. And I am certainly not holding up signs that say 'Let Me In' and 'Thanks.' There is supporting your spouse and then..."

CO: "...and then there is enabling your spouse."

Me: "Exactly."

Rest in Peace, Brave Girl

A tribute to an acquaintance of mine who lost her long battle with MS this week. Her name was Kristi, and she was only 38 years old.

Two months ago she made the agonizing decision to discontinue treatment for an infection that had raged through her body for over a year...a decision made all the more agonizing by the fact of her 13 year old daughter.

Still, in the end, she did it for her daughter, even more than herself, I think. Her own parents were raising her daughter anyway, and while living without your mother at that tender age is difficult, visiting her in a long-term care facility, watching her suffer, waiting for her to die is much more so.

I am thankful that Kristi's long, painful struggle is over, and I am glad it is over for those who loved her as well. Rest in peace, brave girl.

Embracing Your Inner Exhibitionist

Okay, I have a very important survey to conduct here. It is hugely important, and potentially life-altering. Ready? Ladies...panties under the pantyhose, or are you commando under there?

The reason I am asking? Well, uhm, earlier today, I visited the ladies' room, and my panties broke. They broke! The strap on the right side just snapped like a dry little twig. I spent a few minutes trying to figure out how to make them work without the strap, but in the end I had to, uhm, remove them, and throw them in the trash can, buried under several layers of paper towels that I threw in there to hide them. Why I felt the need to do this, I do not know. I didn't want anyone looking in the trash and wondering, I guess. I mean, I would wonder if I looked in the trash can at work and saw some one's panties. Wouldn't you?

Anyway, I still have the pantyhose, thank God, and they had the little cotton thingy which indicates you can choose to wear them without the panties underneath, but this isn't something I commonly do, and I gotta say...I feel creepy.

This is almost as bad as...oh, I was searching for a link to an old blog I wrote, but it must have been posted on the former blog site. I guess one day soon I will have to recreate my most embarrassing blunders for your amusement. For those of you who read the old blog, and read that post...yeah, almost as creepy as that time.

So does anyone out there skip the panties as a general practice? Like you're going to admit it now, right? No, seriously, I suppose I could see the benefits...less laundry, no visible pantylines, and it is somewhat cooler (temperature-wise). But how do you get past the exposed feeling?

Or maybe you like that exposed feeling? Is that it? Do I have to embrace my inner exhibitionist? Do I have to welcome this as my own private dirty secret? What?

Help me here, people! Clearly, I need it. I am not well. I am not well at all.

The Soundtrack of My Life - Track 23

December 1963 (Oh What a Night) - The Four Seasons
Strictly from a song standpoint, this song is not even my favorite by the Four Seasons...that would be Let's Hang On. So how then, did it end up on my 101 list, while the later did not?

Four twenty-something friends, Amy, Lindy, Lori and yours truly, having a girls night in sans boyfriends, with plenty of alcohol to go around, playing a game called Songburst...a board game predecessor to Don't forget the Lyrics. The very nature of the game dictated that plenty of songs were sung that night, but this is the one that sticks in my head.

"As I remember, what a night."

I wonder where those girls are today? We were one time coworkers, confidantes, comrades, but eventually we all fell in love, got married, changed jobs, had babies, moved on...and sadly, lost touch.

These were great girls with whom to share those precious years when, unlike the lean college years, we had a little more money, if a little more responsibility. We worked hard, but still, we had fun! Concerts, parties, happy hours, fancy dinners, weekend adventures.

Some people never get that time in their life...they start a family too soon, or a career too late. I am so lucky to have had the opportunities I had. And lucky, too, to have shared it with these girls.

Monday Morning Sports Report

This time of year, my weekends are primarily spent in front of the big screen watching sports. Mostly football, with some baseball and NHRA thrown in for good measure. I know to many people, this is a waste of precious life. To me, this is life. In my family, the years are measured not in A.D., but in their relation to our various teams' performances. For example, "That was the year the Broncos won their first Superbowl" or "The year that USC won the National Championship." Of course there are other years too...the one's that we speak of only in hushed tones while shaking our heads in dispair, but we try not to speak of those too often.

Whenever anyone asks me what my dream job would be, my answer is always the same...I would be a sports journalist. I don't know that I'd be very good at it, but that wasn't the question was it? Imagine traveling around and watching sports for a living! Bliss, I tell you!

But I'm not a sports journalist, so I have to play one on my blog. Here are some thoughts I had this week:

1) First, my beloved Trojans...they are teh awesome. There is just nothing else to say, except, I love Pete Carroll. The man is off the hook. In his tenure at USC, his teams have a +104 in turnovers, and that is just one of many fine statistics his teams possess. I seriously love him. Seriously.

2) Ohio State...you have once again been exposed for what you are, or more accurately, for what you are not. Can the OSU fans please, please, please shut it already? You're done. It's over. You are not as good as you think you are. Just shut it!

3) New England fans...yes, Tom Brady is hurt. Yes, this is a bummer for you, but it is not a national tragedy. No, it was not a dirty hit. This is football, not chess. People get hurt. It happens. That doesn't make it rife with intent. So let's banish these conspiracy theories to the political realm where they belong.

4) Tony Schumacher...so sick of him. Seriously SICK of him. Furthermore, I cannot believe this guy can be so much better than everyone else in his class all the friggin' time without some, uhm, artificial assistance. Something is amiss. I call shenanigans! By the way this conspiracy theory is okay. Sports fans are nothing if not hypocritical.

5) UCLA...well, yes they suck. I am an SC fan, so that is just a fact of life IMHO. However, do they suck that bad...59 to 0 bad? Or did the traitor Norm Chow have anything to do with making sure his beloved BYU stays strong in the rankings? Just a thought. I don't really care either way. UCLA will still suck, and Norm Chow will still be a traitor no matter what.

6) Okay, I have mentioned I am a Denver Bronco fan...so I obviously must address The Call. Or I guess I should say the calls plural. Yes, they were terrible calls...result-making, game-changing calls. I will not dispute that. It happened. It sucks for you Charger fans out there. It really does. I even honestly feel kind of bad for you. I do! However, might I suggest that this was just a case of bad karma coming to call on Phillip Rivers after his abhorrent display of poor sportsmanship against Jay Cutler last year, and nothing more?

And for the record, I also agree that the NFL needs to hold the refs to a higher level of accountability for these types of errors. But the San Diego player who spoke out saying something like "When we fuck up, we get fired" uhm, no you don't. Players drop passes, throw interceptions and miss tackles all the flippin' time. You don't get fired! Let's dial down the drama just a tad, shall we? You have a right to be upset, but not irrational. Only I get to be irrational. Do you see how this works?

7) Speaking of the Broncos...does Mike Shanahan have big ol' brass ones or what? I loved that call for the two-point conversion! I would have loved it even if they had missed it. This is what sports are all about...no guts, no glory!

Nutty Goodness

You Are A Peanut

You are popular, even with people who tend to have picky taste. Kids love you, as do dogs. From rednecks to snobs, most people have a place for you in their hearts. As popular as you are, there are some people who can't be near you. Don't take it too personally. There's just a few people you rub the wrong way.

What Nut Are You?

Actually, that sounds fairly accurate. Especially the "there are just some people who can't be near you" part.

I do love me some peanut butter. Does that make me a cannibal?

Remembering

I missed posting yesterday due to a deadline at work, but at no part of the day, was the day itself far from my thoughts. Seven years ago, and yet so vivid, so sharp in memory. The pain just beneath the surface.

A employee of the firm said yesterday that he didn't get what the big deal was. He really didn't care about September 11th when it happened, much less seven years later, and he thought the whole thing was overblown.

Rarely have I been so shocked and horrified. I have lost any respect I once had for this individual. What kind of a person could possibly feel this way?

I have no words.

In My Next Life

Your result for Reincarnation Placement Exam...

Gypsy Camp

57% Intrigue, 39% Civilization, 62% Humanity, 50% Crowded, 21% Busy.

You sing! You dance! You flee from the authorities!

You were a bit difficult to place, because you like civilization and humanity -- but when it comes to work, you don't really fit into the system, the ruts and the rituals, that modern civilization embraces. You like your own ways... your old ways.

We've placed you among a hardy Gypsy family. They'll have you plucking a violin before you can talk, and dancing before you can walk. The road is your home, and your horses are members of your family. You get to wear lots of shiny things.

We expect that you'll have a good life. Even if your people are surrounded by a world where they don't really fit in, they have each other, an oasis of compatibility in an unbalanced world. We know you'll make the most of it!

Take Reincarnation Placement Exam at HelloQuizzy

Thanks to Chalice Chick and Joel for the link.

Blogs and Politics

I'm having such a hard time with all this election and political stuff. First off because I truly dislike both candidates. Second, because the whack-jobs on both sides of the aisle are just obnoxious and out of line. Third, because I am reading my favorite bloggers, and I am reminded that while I adore their life stories, their humor, their insights on family, work, American Idol...the important things in life, we are very far apart politically. It makes me fear losing those connections should I dare to comment or to post a political thought of my own.

From here on out, I am going to try and stay away from political blogging in general...try not to either read or write them.

But before that self-imposed ban, I will say that I think both of the V.P. candidates are much more fabulous than the Presidential candidates themselves. Although Palin is way too "Christian Right" for me personally, I admire her as a successful woman, and while I don't care for career politicians in general, I love that Biden has refused to comment on Palin's family (so far anyway), and has called out his own supporters for questioning her ability to be V.P. while taking care of her children by saying, like all the other working mothers in America, she can handle it.

I wish, just once, a politician would stand up and refuse to mud-sling. To just say why he or she is a good candidate for the job, based on their own experience and values, and not feel the need to degrade their opponent in the process. I would have so much more respect for the lot of them. Sadly, it seems this may never be possible.

That is all I have to say on the whole political thing. I will try to keep my own counsel from here on out, and in the process, keep my blog buddies. If we can't respect one another's differences, and right to varied points of view, I guess that won't happen.

Of course, if we can't respect one another, the buddies aren't worth having in the first place.

T.G.I.F.

I know it's not Friday, Silly! That isn't what TGIF means...not to me...not in September.

T.G.I.F. Thank God it's Football! Football! Glorious football! It was a long, cold, lonely off-season, and I have missed you so.

And right out of the gates, I get a delicious surprise. After week 1 in college football, both the AP and Coach's polls read as follows:

1) USC
2) Georgia
3) Ohio State
4) Oklahoma
5) Florida

USC jumped 2 spots from their 3rd spot in the preseason poll. The explanatory article, USC’s reward: Top spot in Top 25, goes on to say:

“There’s a bit of a growing backlash for the amount of teams that open with I-AA cupcakes,” said Mandel. “To see a team (USC) go on the road and play a New Year’s Day bowl team from last season, and not only play them but destroy them, how could you not reward that team?”

Amen, Brutha! Oh, and this quote from Pete Carol:

“We realize that rankings so early in a season are certainly fluid. But rankings do help establish a pecking order for things later in the season...As for moving into the No. 1 spot, it’s nice to know that people think highly of our team.”

I must say right now, I love Pete Carroll. I love him with a devotion seldom known. He is never pompous, never braggy, never obnoxious. He always compliments his players, and the other teams' players and coaches. He is 100% class 100% of the time.

If I were to ever have more kids, I would name them all Pete Carroll. In fact, if we weren't both happily married, I'd have his kids and name them all Pete Carroll. This is how much I love me some Pete Carroll.

So T.G.I.F. and while you're at it, thank God for Pete Carroll.

The Soundtrack of My Life - Tracks 21 - 22

I haven't done a music entry in awhile, and I've been thinking about the power of music lately. I thought I'd combine all of these thoughts with a selection from my 101 Songs List.

I was reading a novel in which the author said something about music and smells being the strongest memory triggers.

I think this is true. When I was driving home from my conference little over a week ago, I was listening to my iPod, and several songs evoked strong memories of people or places. I felt transported back in time for a few moments. Nothing like a long drive alone to ponder and reflect.

So my selection today is based upon that premise. I have picked the two songs on my 101 list that most remind me of my first love, whom I briefly mentioned in association with another song, but these are the two that really bring him to mind:

Living in Sin (Bon Jovi)
It was the late 80's. I loved Bon Jovi. Then this song came out, and my roommate told me it reminded her of me and R. I remember thinking she was so right on.

Now before I reminisce too much, let me say that I love my CO very, very much, and would never change a thing. But the past is what it is, and all roads not taken led to CO. This is just one of those roads. Still, I try to look back fondly on those roads, those days, those people, of which R is one.

I met R my first day of college, and we proceeded very quickly into a relationship that would span more than two years. He was born in Mexico and immigrated here with his family when he was a little boy. The inter-racial/cultural thing lent a forbidden fruit quality to the relationship that I think we both embraced. For the first time in my life, I felt like a rebel, and that just turned up the heat on my raging teenage hormones, which when combined with the excitement of being away at college, and falling in love for the first time, was a powerful cocktail.

"Now there's a million questions
I could ask about our lives
But I only need one answer
To get me through the night"

Love Bites (Def Leppard)
It was still the late 80's, and I loved Def Leppard. Then he broke my heart, I found out that love CAN bite.

Still, he wasn't a bad guy. He just saw what I refused to see...we loved each other, but in the end, it wouldn't last forever. We were very different people, who came from very different places. His mother spoke no English, and I spoke no Spanish. Neither one of us had lived enough to be sure of something that would be so difficult. He was so right. When I try to picture what my life would be if I had stayed with him, I cannot get a clear picture. All I know is it would be very different from the life I have now.

"I don't wanna touch you too much baby, 'cause making love to you might drive me crazy.

I know you think that love is the way you make it, so I don't wanna be there when you decide to break it.

Love bites, love bleeds...It's bringin' me to my knees

Love lives, love dies...It's no surprise

Love begs, love pleads...It's what I need"

There are a few other songs, not on the 101 list that make me think of R. Most notably Genesis' Throwing It All Away. I was so sure he was going to be sorry some day...that he would never find another girl like me. Don't we all think that? In the end, that was probably true, but I doubt it turned out to be a bad thing.

So here's to R! Thanks. I hope you are happy with your life...where ever you are.

More on B-O-O-B Gawking

In my last post, I wrote about being annoyed by Mr. B-o-o-b Gawker. My blog friend, Joel, offered a plausible explanation in the comments section regarding genetic wiring and height differentials. It is important to note that Joel also said this is an impulse men should keep under control, so he wasn't condoning the practice, just explaining it.

Of course this is an excellent explanation, and one to which I can mostly subscribe.

Let's face it, even women look at other women's breasts. At least I do. Sometimes, you just can't miss them. Some women put them on display such that it is impossible to miss them. All that is missing are spotlights and a turntable. I may have even fallen into this category myself once or twice.

The difference, of course, is that when a woman notices another woman, it is usually just because the other pair is noteworthy, and very little fascination is involved. We can simply glance, then look away. We women have our very own set. No need to get too invested in someone else's.

Whereas men...well it is different. I get that. I do understand some level of curiosity from men. And some level of looking is probably acceptable to most women. Something between a glance and a glimpse. Even a series of a few covert peeks or fleeting looks. (Ladies...opinions?)

I cannot speak for all women, but this is something I can live with. I can maybe even muster up some vague feelings of flattery...although not much, because you guys will look at anything. Seriously. You will.

But what my last post was talking about, and what I cannot abide is the gawker. This is the man who just flat out stares. Nothing covert. Nothing secretive. Just full on gaping.

And it would even be different if I was in display mode...If you're going to put the goodies on display, they are going to get seen, no two ways about it. But this was a professional conference, and I was appropriately covered. What made it worse, is that we were in a crowd of people waiting to get into a closed conference room. We stood in very close proximity for like five minutes, and I couldn't move, because there were too many people pressed around us. But still the man just stared. I was very uncomfortable. I wanted to slap him. If I had had water, I might have thrown it at him.

In this case the height differential Joel spoke of was reversed...at 5'10'' I am as tall as your average man, and this particular man was slightly shorter. Maybe that made it even worse. I don't know.

So men, my point is, go ahead and glance. Feel free. It is in your nature, and I understand. Whatever. Just don't GAWK. It's obnoxious, and it makes us feel icky. So don't do it!