The Philosophy of Cereal

Gentle readers,

So, this morning, as I took my breakfast of Alpha-Bits cereal with Daughter, an interesting corollary hit me. Cereal and elections are a lot alike. Stay with me.

I started with a full bowl of cereal and added my milk. I was hungry and looking forward to my cereal. I was even smiling. I took the first bite and there was a perfect blend of crispy cereal and cold milk. Yum.

Then, half-way through the bowl, the cereal was getting soggy, the milk was now room temperature and tasted sweeter than it did at the start.

Uh oh, I'm at the end of the bowl and I've still got milk left. I'll just add a little more cereal and try to get things to work out a bit more evenly. So, with all the skills of spatial reasoning that I've got, I tip the box and add more...I even toss three errant pieces in just for measure.

Ok, now we're talking. Not quite where we started, but better than the soggy mess I previously had in my bowl. I crunch happily even though I'm not really hungry any more.

WHAT?! Still more milk than cereal is left in the bottom of my bowl. In the interest of not being at breakfast until past noon trying to puzzle out the divine milk to cereal ratio, I lift the bowl to my lips and drink down the remaining milk. It's got small chunks of cereal in it and it's WAY sweeter than it was when we started. But, it's over now and at a minimum I've taken care of the issue for now.

And so it goes with elections. At the beginning things are fresh and crisp and we're excited about the prospects. At the middle, comes the primaries...things are starting to get soggy, but we're still hungry, so we eat. After primaries, we're stuck with what's left. We can try really hard to make it perfect, but in the end we just want to get it over with for another four years.

No matter what your favorite cereal is, you've likely faced the same dilemma at breakfast time. Hasn't stopped you from eating cereal, has it? Likewise, elections are almost over. In a few short days, the ads we are being inundated with that are approved by John/Jane Candidate will cease for now. So, no matter your political beliefs or affiliations, on November 4th...VOTE!!!

Random Musing Item: Who decides which letters will go in the box of Alpha-Bits? There seems to be a serious disparity in the letters and amount of them in each box. Hmmmm....conspiracy?

The "scope" of things

Gentle readers,

In the wake of my recent medical drama has come myriad medical procedures. The latest and greatest of which involve the procedures of endoscopy and colonoscopy. For me the worst part of any procedure is always the IV. Hate needles with a blind passion.

The gastroenterology center where I had my procedures done was great. Loved the doctor, loved the nurses.

For anyone facing either of those procedures, it's really no big deal. The prep for the colonoscopy is no day at the beach...it's more like a day on the toilet after drinking a couple bottles of Liquid Plumber, but still not the worst thing. They put you to sleep, send the camera crew in and wake you when it's over. Post procedure I'd have to say mild discomfort for a day or so but nothing noteworthy.

The bottom line is that while we have no idea what's causing my issues yet, we now know a couple of things that it's not. It's not Celiac Disease, which is good news. Beer can remain a part of my life. It's not internal bleeding either...also good news.

One of my friends commented that now I have enough footage of my insides for a short film. Watch for Inside and Out: the story of a lesbian with diagnosis unknown coming soon to a film festival near you!

Random Musing Item: You ever wonder about who/how people discovered certain foods? A couple that recently crossed my mind: Ice cream and bread...how do you discover that? I mean fruits and veggies and sundry animals I get. We watched what the animals ate and followed their lead I would assume. But how do we arrive at a multi-step processes that yield certain foods?

Putting the Iron in Irony

Gentle readers,

So, yes, it's true...WYM is not a fan of needles. Don't care for hospitals/doctors much. Yet, here I am rapidly approaching the nickname "Pin Cushion". In the latest episode of my medical drama, I am receiving intravenous iron twice a week starting today. It's very much in the style of chemotherapy. Yay me.

So I arrive at the hematologist/oncologist and am greeted by having two viles of blood drawn. What never ceases to amaze me is the phlebotomist always looks me in the eye and says "Which arm is better?" Now hear me out. I'm a financial advisor. Say for instance I go to a client meeting with information on mutual funds, lay the data at their feet and say "Ok, Mr and Mrs Jones, which mutual fund is better?" Well, now, that just sounds silly. That's what they are paying me for. Duh! Right?
So, why, oh, why do they expect me to look at my arm and direct them to the best possible vein I've got? Do people do this? Do they say "Well, Sally, I've got a swell vein right here. Works like a charm. Here...hand me that syringe and I'll do it myself." So, I always look the tech right back in the eye, turn on the WYM charm (why upset the lady with the sharp object that she'll shortly be jabbing me with?) and declare. "Nuh uh...the lady with the needle gets her choice. My job is to not pass out. Deal?"

And here's your daily dose of irony...I wound up being assigned 6 IV iron treatments. That's right, WYM...you get the pleasure of an IV being inserted 6 times. Pray that I don't pass out at least once.

A different kind of Mother's Day

Gentle Readers,

Happy Mother's Day to all. That's right...everybody, even the boys. Today, rather than using a constricted definition of mother, I'd like to celebrate the maternal spirit. There are some women devoid of maternal instinct and some men who have it in spades. Maternal instinct is that which makes us want to care for and protect other living things and nurture other's spirits. That instinct isn't reserved for just those of us with children nor those of us who have given birth.

Whether you're caring for a dog, cat, goldfish, rabbit, tadpole or child, whether you're protecting family, a friend, a co-worker or complete strangers, whether you're nurturing the spirit of a son, daughter, grandchild, niece, nephew, friend, godchild, or a stranger...spare a thought for yourself today.

For those of you who make mothering a part of your life whether you gave birth or not, I salute you and I thank you.

So, from the bottom of my heart to those who care for, protect and nurture...

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!!!!

Not so random musing item: A special wish goes out to BB for changing my life forever and for better in the most amazing way. Happy Mother's Day! No matter what else happens, we done one thing good.

Bananas over Hanah Montana

Gentle Readers,

I honestly don't know much about Miley Cyrus and have never watched an episode of her show. I know she's famous and young and the daughter of Billy Ray "Achy Breaky Heart" Cyrus. In recent days the airways and internet have been awash with the story of her "racy" photo taken for Vanity Fair magazine. I shook my head as I imagined what sort of photo this must be. Vanity Fair loves pushing the envelope so I was envisioning some sexy, slinkly lingerie, bedroom eyes and a come-hither glance. So, for purely scientific research, I eventually viewed the photo.

"Racy"? Really? Says who? Who gets to determine the use of the phrase because I want a new committee. Honestly, you can see more skin on some of the backless numbers on the Oscar's red carpet. What am I talking about? You can see more skin in lotion commercials on TV in the middle of the day. The look on Miss Cyrus's face is one of innocence. I'd called the photo by renowned photag Annie Liebowitz artsy before I'd call it racy. It's not like the girl did a spread-eagle cover for Hustler or Penthouse. You can see her back.

We really need to loosen up as a freakin' nation. Damn our Puritanical roots...damn them to hell!

Random Musing Item: How can a mere child have this kind of skill? When I ask Daughter something and she doesn't know the answer or would prefer not to answer, she simply goes lawyer on me. Here's an excerpt from a recent dinner conversation after Teacher had mentioned an event during school. WYM: "So, Daughter, how was school today?" Daughter: "So, M, how was work today?" Lean in receptively, make eye contact. WYM: "My day was good. I got lots done. How was school, sweetie?" Daughter: "And Baby Momma, how was your day?" take a big sip of milk and wait anxiously for answer. We got trouble folks, right here in River City.

Water, water everywhere

Gentle readers,

Happy belated Earth Day to you. So I am greeted this morning by headlines that my plastic water bottle may cause everything from headaches and obesity to cancer. So, those folks who were trying to do a good thing and use a reusable bottle...well, the jokes on them. Except for no one is laughing.

What do we do? How do we get rid of this toxic plastic? Melt it down and release the noxious fumes into the atmosphere and hope for the best? No. Launch it in to space and hope life forms more advanced that ours find it and know what to do with it? Neat idea, but not practical. You can either use recyclable plastic bottles and hope for the best or roll the dice and keep on using your Nalgene bottles. It's almost the dilemma to end all dilemmas. What a one to occur so close to Earth Day.

So, when it comes down to us or earth...golly, what the heck kind of choice is that? So I'll give it to you straight. Seems like the only safe thing to do is to shed our earthly possessions, move to the mountains and take our water directly from the fresh running mountain streams. I mean that's where the good folks at Perrier and San Pelligrino and Evian get their stuff, right? And charge us fools a couple bucks for a few ounces of the stuff? If we are to make this move, we must be swift before global warming melts all the polar icecaps and the mountain streams run dry!

It's not nice to fool with Mother Nature.

Random Musing Item: Do you know how to tell the difference between a seal and a sea lion? I didn't until recently. Among the myriad ways is that sea lions have ears and seals don't. Also, sea lions have longer front flippers for easier maneuverability on land. My many thanks to Coco, Surfer and Boomerang of the Mystic Aquarium for the valuable lesson.

Yoga...something for everybody

Gentle readers,

Yesterday, Daughter awoke earlier than usual. It was too early for some of her shows on Public TV, so we watch a little of a yoga show that was on. It was in the final minutes, so was mostly cool down stuff. I invited her to attempt some of it and she did and liked it. I did too. We were having a good time. The instructor was a female and appropriately attired for yoga. After a few minutes my very observant three and a half year old gives the instructor a glance and announces "My boobies haven't grown yet."

First instinct response, "Why is one of the first things my daughter notices is the instructor's rack?" Second thought...apple didn't roll very far from that tree.

Now daughter is old enough to know that her body is different from the mature female forms she sees. Don't get me wrong, we aren't a nudist colony, but we don't hide from her either. She's already asked questions and we've had some discussions on various parts of her body. But the fact that in the five minutes we were doing yoga, she picked up on the instructors mature female form made me laugh.

Brace yourself world!!!!

Random Musing Item: Been on a bit of a Law & Order: SVU kick of late. What the heck is that sound on Law & Order? It's highly recognizable, but what is it exactly? Anyone know?

Etiquette in an elevator

Gentle readers,

I work in a four story building with maybe a couple hundred people working in said building. Yet, every single day I come within a hair's breadth of being doused with a cup of Starbuck's, Dunkin's or Tim Horton's coffee. Why is this, you ask? It's because no one seems to understand the basics of elevator etiquette. It's not complicated really.

While waiting for an elevator:

1. Maintain minimum safe distance. This will help resist the urge to sprint in once those doors open like there's free money inside.

2. Remember: No elevator moves as fast as one would like. Try to have patience. If you can't wait, try the stairs.

When entering an elevator:

1. Assume someone is on the elevator who wishes to exit, even if there is not. Do not assume the Elevator Genie as sent you an empty elevator to grant your wish.

2. Allow the doors to fully open.

3. Wait a beat. Count one, one thousand, two one thousand.

4. Allow any passengers wishing to exit to do so safely.

5. Climb aboard, select your floor and move to an unoccupied area of the elevator.

When riding in an elevator:

1. It's ok to make eye contact.

2. It's ok not to make eye contact.

3. It's ok to have dead air.

4. It's ok to make polite conversation.

5. If you stake the claim of elevator real estate that is in front of the buttons, congratulations, you are now the elevator operator. You'll be in charge of pushing buttons that others can't reach. This includes but is not limited to holding the 'door open' button to ensure passengers safe entry/exit. If you're not up to this public service task, don't stand there.

When exiting an elevator:

1. Make sure you are on the floor you need to be on prior to exiting.

2. Say "excuse me" if you need your fellow passengers to move in order to exit. They've been blindly staring at the numbers as they light and can't guess who's floor they are on.

3. Hold the door in case there are others behind you also exiting.

4. Be on the lookout for passengers getting ready to enter who may be oblivious to the fact that this isn't their personal elevator and that others may in fact be using it.

5. Wear stain resistant clothing just in case someone isn't up on their elevator etiquette.

These are simple rules that I think we all can live with. They'll make elevator travel everywhere safer and more enjoyable for all.

Random Musing Item: What ever happened to elevator music? I don't think it's as common as it once was. Next time you're in an elevator take note!

The Evil Sorcerer's Quasi-Celebrity Apprentice

Gentle readers,

So I watched the Celebrity Apprentice season finale last night. The Donald billed it clearly as Good vs. Evil. In my humble opinion, Piers had no business in the finale to begin with. Firing the beautiful and talented Carol Alt (the only member of the women's team who won as project manager not once, but twice!) was the Donald's first error in judgement. He figured a battle between two complete opposites billing it as good vs. evil would sell better than doing the right thing. He actually went against the advice of his trusted advisers and brought Piers to the final battle pitted against Captain Middle America, the soft-spoken shy cowboy with a heart and voice of gold - Trace Adkins.

I'll start out by putting the charities these chaps were playing for aside. Both are worthy, noble charities doing great work in their own right. Same thing can be said for the charities represented by all the celebrities. Basing any decision on the charity would be the wrong way to pick the winner. I'm pretty sure I heard the Donald lay out the rules of final judgement as being based on three things. 1. Ticket sales, 2. Auction earnings and 3. the planning of their piece of the event.

Without hesitation, the walk-away winner of the auction was Piers. He had three bidders smack down 100k for auction items. However, the walk-away winner in the other two categories was clearly Team Trace. Team Piers had fewer ticket sales by a third and his end of the event didn't roll as smoothly. His plot to keep bidders drunk and hungry didn't seem to sit well with Donald. That's Team Trace 2, Team Piers 1...seems like a slam dunk, no?

So we enter the fabled final board room. I have a sinking feeling that Trace will get the fuzzy end of the lollipop, but am hoping that The Donald, since he billed it as Good vs Evil, that good will triumph...especially since it won fair and square.

I was wrong. Gather the children around folks. Here are some nuggets from your Uncle Donald: Evil will win every time. Nice guys finish last. You'll feel good about yourself if you do the right thing, do right by others and conduct yourself with integrity, but the smarmy guy next to you will go further.

Perhaps what I find most upsetting is that this is generally how it goes in the real world. I wanted to be treated to something different.

I will say this though. While the bloom is off the rose for me with Donald, who listens to nobody but himself these days, and why shouldn't he? He's got more money than God, so he's got to be doing something right. I was impressed with Donald's kids. Don Jr. and Ivanka seem intelligent, well spoken and full of integrity, charm and good business sense.

After the majority of the celebrities, Trump's advisors and his own children expressed support of Trace, the highlight of Celebrity Apprentice for me was when Ivanka tried to ask Piers why he didn't use more tact and if he was sorry he entered in to the sort of schoolyard "Your mama wears combat boots" name-calling with folks. Her quote went something like, "Piers you could have made this a 5 minute boardroom if you had had a better bedside manner." In front of the woman's father Piers commented with a bit of a lecherous grin, "Ivanka, love, you know nothing about my bedside manner." Ivanka, the epitome of class replied, "You make my point. That is precisely the lack of tact to which I am referring."

My advice to Mark Burnett: Fire the Donald and next season have Ivanka hire the next apprentice.

Random Musing Item: Dental floss? Really, Omarosa? I wasn't impressed.

Never play Uno with a 3 year old

Gentle readers,

Here's a short list of things my daughter has taught me.

1. Never play Uno with a three-year old. It just gets messy.

2. Hello Kitty lip gloss doesn't wash out of a white turtleneck.

3. Bouncing is fun and a tremendous stress reliever.

4. Reading can be a team sport.

5. Everything you say can and will be used against you or come back to bite you.

6. Imagination is very important. If you don't believe me, just ask the fairies and elves!

7. Honesty is the best policy.

8. Listen to your body. Sleep when you're tired, eat when you're hungry, etc.

9. If you're gonna do it...do it with GUSTO!!!

10. Know what you want and how to ask for it...you'll be surprised what happens.

Random Musing Item: If seeing is believing how come so many of us believe in things that we have never seen? I'm talking about things as varied as God, unicorns, and the Loch Ness Monster here.

Buffy's bendy

Gentle readers,

Since the New York Times found it fit to print, I guess I shall blog on it. Buffy the Vampire Slayer slept with a female in the Season 8 comic brought to us by Joss Whedon, father of all things Buffy. Now, the world has gone cracker-dog nuts saying all manner of things from Joss is the anti-Christ and that this is just sensationalism and on and on.

I agree, it's a great way to sell comics. But it's also more than that. Last month's issue had Buffy suggest she was gay subtly. She had a very touching scene with her love interest, Satsu, explaining how bad it was that Satsu was in love with her because people who love Buffy have bad things happen to them, etc. The last line was about healing.

And you know what? No one said a word. Everyone assumed Buffy would just sulk off after patting her crush unrequitedly on the cheek and continue being lonely. Actually, Satsu mentioned that Buffy wasn't gay and the Buffster responded with a non-answer "Not so you'd notice." No one said a word. Buffy can be as open-minded about the gay thing as she wants to when she's talking about it. So long as it's all in theory, no one gets offended, no mud gets slung. Everyone just smiles wistfully and says "Poor Buffy."

Fast forward an issue. In this one, Buffy not only talks about the gay thing, she gets naked, sweaty and all overtly lesbian. And everyone has a take on it and everyone has something to say. And would you believe not all of it is flattering?

Some say Joss has gone too far. Too far, how, again? This is Joss-fricken-Whedon, folks! Nothing is impossible and nowhere is too far. Now, do I think Buffy and Satsu are going to live happily ever after and live in a studio apartment in the city where they will have cats and raise their children (which would be stunning, if only imaginary)? No way. For the genius he is, I don't trust him as far as I could throw him. And I could certainly throw a comic book further than a television, but I'm drifting from my point.

There's those that say this came out of the clear blue sky and Buffy's straight as an arrow. I disagree. Remember Faith? If you watch season 3's interactions with Faith, there's girl-crush undertones and you needn't look too hard or read too much in to it. There are some who'd say I could read lesbian undertones into The Sound of Music. So there's your grain if you care to salt my blog.

Do I think Buffy's gay? Not entirely. Do I think she's straight? No way, Jose. I'd say she's bendy. Tell me you've never gotten a blip on your gaydar over Buffy? Everyone got really excited when Buffy entered a purely physical relationship with Spike...might she not enter in to the same arrangement with Satsu? Why the heck not? She's lonely, she's said that and in the truest sense of the word, she is alone. And along comes a young woman who loves her, respects her, flatters her and makes her feel good about herself and about life. One thing leads to another and Melissa Etheridge songs are playing and Buffy is coming to Satsu's window. I don't think it's hell and gone from reality.

As a fan, I couldn't be more excited to see where the storyline is headed. I'm not even going to hazard a guess. I'm just going to buckle my chin strap and enjoy the ride. Naked, sweaty Buffy plus naked, sweaty newbie Slayer equals all kinds of fun and funny. Yay, me!

Random Musing Item: Why do sheets in comics, TV and movies cover women up to the armpits and men only to the waist?

So...I'm old

Gentle readers,

As though the last several months of medical woes haven't aged me enough, tonight I received proof positive that I'm old.

While at the local filling station fueling my car, two young women - I'd say in the area of 18 give or take emerged from their car. It was about 19 degrees out. One of these girls was clad only in jeans and a white tank top. The young lady was fairly easy on the eye, but all I could think of was "Where is your coat, sweetie?"

So, there you have it. Please hand me my counted cross-stitch and a rocking chair.

Random Musing Item: Scarlett Johannsen has revealed (jokingly) that she is engaged to Barrack Obama. If Senator Obama can convince Ms. Johannsen to marry him, no wonder he's doing so well!

Are you a Super Hero?

Gentle readers,

I'm proud to say that Daughter has recently expressed an interest in super heroes and more specifically Spiderman. I have the Marvel Comics Encylopedia and she loves going through it with me and pointing out all the Spiderman pictures. Important to remember here that I'm a big geek and Spiderman comics were a big part of my childhood. That Daughter shares that interest with me is very special.

This morning, after having gone through the book earlier, she was talking about Spiderman at breakfast. "Spiderman is the biggest and the strongest and he wears blue and a spider bit him..." and on and on. I said Spiderman has big muscles just like Mutti and she explained that she was big and strong too.

So, I asked her, "Are you a Super Hero?" Without missing a beat, she looked at me and said "I can't tell yet." And the undertone was, "Oh you foolish woman! I'm like three! Most super heroes don't become aware of their powers until high school at least! Don't I know anything at all about heroes?"

I love that her answer wasn't an immediate "No." So, she may turn out to be a Super Hero one day. It's just too soon to tell right now is all. I love her.

Random Musing Item: I know this has been asked before, but what kind of critter is Goofy?

Ya gotta have friends

Gentle readers,

I love my friends. I think I'm a good friend. I'm a loyal, do anything for you, shirt-off-my-back kind of friend. And like speaks to like, so I've got loyal do anything for you, shirt-off-their-back friends.

I'd like to talk about one friend in particular. This friend has been a real friend for almost 18 years now. The years have had ups and downs and twists and turns and yet, through it all, there we were and here we still are. The latest chapter involves her diagnosis of breast cancer and my own recent health hurdles. Since we had sychronized illnesses, I haven't been able to be there for her like I'd like.

The last couple days, as I have begun to feel a little more like myself, I have been able to do a little bit more on her behalf. She's got a compromised immune system, can't be in public and has some weird food aversions/cravings as a result of her therapies. We were instant messaging each other late one afternoon when she said she was having a specific craving. "No trouble." say I casually. "I'll run to the store and pick up those three items and drop them off." The store is like a block away and Friend lives less than ten minutes away. She protested and said it was silly and she'd make it work with what she had. After a bit of convincing, she gives in and even admits that she was glad I'd insisted.

Now, I am so incredibly stoked to be able to help. I'm feeling awesome about myself and that my level of usefulness to those who hold me dear is starting to return. I have three items to pick up at the store for Friend and what the hell, I'll also toss in a bouquet of flowers to help cheer her. I'll be to the store, her house and back in roughly half an hour. I put on my boots, my scarf and coat and head out the door. I close the door, smiling broadly. See, if we really want to analyze it, I think this is pricisely when things went sideways. I smiled. I was Super Mutti again, able to come the aid of my friends. (This same friend is one who once called me in the middle of the night to help with a bat situation.) It was fleeting, but still one of the highlights of the last few months. Fleeting, you say? Yes, because in the instant that the door closed and I heard the lock catch, it occurred to me that me keys weren't in my coat pocket at all. No, no. They were hanging from the key hook. Drat! (and a few other expletives that I'll let you imagine to keep things here in blogsville PG-13)

I phone Partner. She's a half hour away moving furniture at her parents house. So, I call Friend. Friend says "Hi?" I explain the situation and then we enjoy a few moments of hysterics because at the end of the day, it's pretty freakin' funny. It's also pretty freakin' cold. Friend will drive over, hand me the key, I'll run to the store and drive the groceries to her. Friend arrives and explains that that's insane and she'll drive me to the store, wait for me (it's only three things) then take me home and go home with the groceries.

The list was simple and short: spaghetti sauce, coffee and wine coolers. Now, as Friend is having aversions/cravings there are very specific varieties of each that are required. If you're a regular reader, you know that I'm no good at grocery shopping, but again...I'm willing to do what it takes to help Friend. I grab some flowers on the way in. I locate the sauces and with minimal searching find the sauce required. I go to the coffee aisle and spend several minutes confirming the fact that the required variety is no where to be had.

I'll think on it and head to wine coolers, which by the way, aren't near the beer...they are near the wine. Now, the requirement was original plain wine coolers. I didn't think that would be asking for the sun, moon, stars and a wormhole in a 4-pack, but it was. They've got everything you can imagine. Margarita, pina colada, berry, fuzzy navel, passion fruit, even one called apple-icious (no foolin')...nothing plain.

As I'm considering which bottle of fuzzberry passion colada cooler will be least likely to make Friend cry or barf, my cell phone rings. "Hello. What are you doing in there?" "Well, there's been a few snags." say I to Friend. I explain. Friend talks me through finding another suitable coffee and we decide we'll take our cooler-quest elsewhere. I checkout and make way back to Friend's car.

We have another moment of hysterics while we discuss that this is just exactly the sort of thing that happens to us. We should never ever again assume that anything will happen normally for us, not even a quick trip to the grocery store.

Two stores later, we are no closer to finding plain wine coolers. We head back to the first store to pick up something that we hope will suit. We were at this, start to finish, about two hours which is more activity than either was planning and exhausting for Friend. It was fun to be able to make a memory with Friend again. We'll file this one somewhere between the bat, my station wagon filled with my worldly possessions stuck on railroad tracks with a train coming and searching for my cat in the middle of the night in a bathrobe and Etienne Aigner shoes.

Random Musing Item: What happens to humans when they drive past cows in a field that makes us want to moo at them?

Bruce! Don't bring me down. Bruce!

Gentle readers,

So I was reading People magazine the other day. It's not mine. I only read it for the pictures. Stop judging me!!! Anywhooo, I came across an article featuring support for Tom Cruise and his recent YouTube broadcasted rant on Scientology. The gist was that we all ought to stop ganging up on poor Tom.

Among those who had a comment quoted was Bruce Willis. Now, don't get me wrong, I like Bruce Willis as an actor. I've watched all his stuff...he was cool as Addison in Moonlighting, he yippee-kai-yay mudder f&*kered's his way through the Die Hard series, and seems like he's not a bad guy. I don't agree with his politics, but it's a free country. He gets to date hot chicks half his age and I don't, maybe I'm just jealous. But I digress.

Now, I know that People isn't always accurate in their quotes, but the quote creditted to Mr. Willis that made the little hairs on the back of my neck stand up was the following: "There is no excuse for the ridicule that is being shown to Tom Cruise in the media because of his faith. Mr. Cruise deserves and is entitled to the same religious tolerance that is afforded every other religion on earth."

Now, at first blush, that seems very articulate. Good use of big words. Might through a few folks off the scent. Guess what? You can still make yourself seem ignorant while using flowery language. After reading it, I reread it. Then I cringed. Then I laughed. Then I said outloud, "What the hell republican paradise are living in where every religion is afforded tolerance?" More oppression, more war, more death has been caused on earth by religious intolerance than any other reason. How can you even make a sentence like that and say it outloud in front of other people??? You mean the same religious tolerance that's afforded Muslims? Barack Obama isn't a Muslim, but the mere hint that he might be sent a ripple through the world. It's now front and center on his webpage that he's NOT a Muslim...never has been. Jehovah's Witnesses are NEVER ridiculed, right? Hah! In this country, pretty much, unless you're Catholic, Protestant or Jewish...your religion is viewed with an upraised eyebrow.

How about Wiccan's? It's true, you don't usually see celebrity witches preaching their flavor of Paganism on YouTube, but what if suddenly Scarlett Johannsen did. (disclaimer: I have no idea what religion Ms. Johannsen is, this is for the sake of example only) We'd all find it odd. Some would be louder than others about it. Some would be cruel. Some wouldn't care. Some would be glad to have such a hottie amongst their ranks and singing the praises of their religion.

Yes, Bruce, Tom Cruise was afforded the same treatment others would get and have gotten when preaching their religion agressively . The same treatment afforded other non-mainstream religions. Is it right? Nope, but unfortunately for now, it's the world we live in. Although I'd like to live on the earth Bruce described. Sounds nice there.

Random Musing Item: How can the phrase "wind up" mean totally opposite things depending on context. When you wind up a watch or a clock or a person you're starting them...revving them up. When you "wind up" a blog post or "wind up" some place unexpected, it refers to an ending. Weird.

F is for...

Gentle readers,

F is for frog, according to daughter's alphabet puzzle. For a window of time this afternoon, the letter F was missing from said puzzle. Then F was for frantic and fretting and frustration. F is also for fed-up and fatigued and freaking out. Which describes me the past couple days as a sinus infection lays seige. F is also for Florida, who I hope gets their delegate situation squared away in time to help Hillary win the nomination. F is for friend one of whom is also having a tough day today. F is also for food...mac-n-cheese and kielbasa for dinner. F is also for Freida...may we'll watch that tonight. F is also for freaking awesome when F was found by Partner.

Random Musing Item: It's crazy how many words start with the letter F. Good luck and Godspeed...fellow freaks!

It's hard out here for a pimp...

Gentle readers,

So, now I've heard everything. A major network has accused Mrs. Clinton of "pimping out" her daughter Chelsea to draw the youth vote. Now, honestly, have you ever heard anything more ridiculous in your life? Firstly, Chelsea is a grown woman who has obviously decided she believes enough in her mother to campaign for her. Good for her. Now, unlike certain other first daughters, Chelsea was quiet and despite spending some awkwardly formative years very much in the public eye, has grown in to an articulate young woman. Chelsea had the unenviable position of going through puberty in the public eye. During a period in a girl's life when our bodies are changing and you're all knees and elbows and let's face it not many of us were sexy at 14, she got regularly insulted about her looks. Did she turn to drugs, alcohol or even develop an eating disorder? Nope. She went to school, studied hard and stayed out of trouble...and out of the papers. I admire Chelsea Clinton as much as I admire her parents. She's a strong, well adjusted woman and the formula is two strong well adjusted parents and good role models.

I ask you this, if Chelsea had not campaigned on her mother's behalf, the good folks at Fox News would have asked where the heck she was. Did she not believe in dear old Mom? And as for Chelsea's looks, frankly, she's not drop dead gorgeous but she's not butt ugly either. If I had to spend an evening with either Miss Clinton or Miss Hilton, I pick Miss Clinton every time. Smart chicks are hot.

I look forward to having Chelsea as first-daughter again soon. I'm WYM and I approved this message.

Random Musing Item: Why must each political ad end that way? I don't care who you are or that you approved of the message. I stopped listening as soon as I realized it was a political ad. I can read and form my own opinion without watching you pet puppies and kiss babies and tell me that we need to build a big wall on our borders.

No breaks and no brakes

Gentle readers,

It's a little like this. Last night the truck o'doom kicked and coughed until the ABS light came on and it died. Baby Momma was driving it on the way home from LL Bean. She had the night off and was supposed to be relaxing, but alas AAA was called, the truck was towed and our woes continue ad neauseum.

It's getting harder to stare in to the glass which has only a couple drops left in it and see it as half full. Half full is my nature. How ever, nuture is attempting to beat it out of me.

Random musing item: Who will win in the classic battle of nature vs nuture? If I had any money, I'd put $5 on...well, what difference?

Name calling

Gentle readers,

This past weekend I learned a new word. It both concerned and confused me. The word was "pansexual". Pansexual? I looked it up. It means someone who is attracted to people regardless of gender identity or biological sex. Great. That's just what we need. Another category. Another box in which to fit people.

I'll explain. In my lifetime alone, here's how things have changed. When I was a child and young adult I knew that if someone was "gay" they were a homosexual...a man who liked men or a woman who like women. Shortly after that, I learned that gay, although used generically was technically a boys-only phrase. Girls who like girls were called lesbians...although this word was very hard for people to say out in the open until the mid-80's.

Then, alas, enter the bisexual. A bisexual person was a person who liked both men and women. So there we were. "Normal" (I was raised Catholic), gay, lesbian and bisexual. If you couldn't fit yourself in to one of those categories...you could probably at least fake it.

Now the 90's come along and ta da...we now have a category for our transgendered and transexual community. Transgendered refers to a person's gender identity. A transgendered person may be straight, gay, lesbian, bisexual or any number of categories that would come along later. A transexual is usually someone who has physically altered themselves through surgery. I'll say right now that I apologize if my understanding of any of these categories is not correct...this is just my understanding and I'm willing to learn.

Ok, good-bye 20th century! Hello 21st Century...the Century of Categories!!!

So, now, we arrive at the metrosexual. Metrosexuals are straight men who put product in their hair and concern themselves with their appearance. Now we've got pansexuals, polysexuals (I'm not making this up) or even asexuals if you like.

I mean no offense to anyone who identifies themselves in any of these categories. My issue is with the society who has forced us to create these boxes. Why can't we just love who we love without fear of judgement or consequence? We'll have a lot fewer politicians stomping their feet in men's room stalls if we could just shake ourselves of our Puritanical roots.

So, here's a few more categories that I thought we could add.

panorama-sexual - someone who'll sleep with whoever's around. I went to college with many of these

omnipo-impotent - an older gentlemen who's prescription for Viagra has him so ready for action that he'll sleep with all things...animal, vegetable or mineral

Inter-sexual - someone who sleeps with people they met over the internet

Transcend-sexual - someone who has sex while reading Ralph Waldo Emerson poems

So, that was my lesson. We'll keep adding boxes until there's only three people in each box. I'll ask it again. Can we just please all love who we love without question?

Daily Random Musing Item: How is it that we wound up with the heart shape that we all know...the one we'll soon be buying chocolates in the shape of etc.? Obviously chocolate in the shape of the human heart would gross me out. Just wondering.

Heluva way to use your luck for the day

Gentle readers,

Not unlike the high school jocks who seem to peak around the middle of senior year and then spend their adulthood working at the multiplex or Thrifty beverage, my luck today peaked too soon.

As I was dressing daughter, a two-days old promise that she could wear her pink undershirt and flowered panties had to be made good on. Now I've got a half naked three year-old who needs these items. Where are these items...in the belly of the dryer (part of why they couldn't be had any earlier). So I take a deep breath and open the dryer door. And there it was...sitting right there, on top of everything. I grabbed and ran. The whole thing took me two seconds.

Then Daughter and I were left alone for the afternoon. When Partner left, Daughter was bouncing up and down on the bed like a nut. Needless to say, high energy girl and anemia woman had an interesting afternoon and I was all out of luck already...

Everything worked out for the best, though.

Daily Random Musing Item: I recently heard that some Anti-Hilary folks are saying that they won't vote Hilary because Bill would be telling her what to do. And the male candidates are immune from the influence of their spouses? Give me a freakin' break!

Are you ready for some football?

So, gentle readers, we have our Super Bowl teams: The Patriots and The Giants. This was not the match-up I was hoping for. I wanted to see Brady vs. Favre. I hope that we get a good game to watch. I also, sorry Giants fans, hope Brady continues his whooping up on the Manning boys and marches his team even further in to the cement of the history books. Win, lose, or draw, history has already been made. No one has ever won 18 straight in a single season/post-season...not even the hallowed '72 Dolphins. They needed only 17 straight to slip in to history and stay there alone for 35 years.

Daily Random Musing Item: Why did Cinderella have glass slippers? Seems unpractical.

Fishy

Gentle readers,

It's with a heavy heart that I write today. Our beloved beta fish, Fishy passed away this morning. It's odd to become attached to a fish, a pet with whom one has such limited interaction.

Fishy came to our family about a year ago as a prize to Daughter for success in potty training. (a previous blog was written in a different forum on the adventure) For the most part, I think 3 years old is awfully young to have to deal with the concept of death. After a little debate and some research it was decided to go with simple truth in way of explanation. There was no elaborate story about Fishy going to a pond in the country, which I think is what my parents would have told me. We didn't even mention the concept of heaven. We kept it simple: Fishy got sick and Fishy died. Not sure she gets it yet, but I know we'll revisit it at some point...perhaps later today, perhaps at some future point. Not to get all storm cloudy, but today Daughter was introduced to the concept that life is temporary and that all living things come to an end.

Rest in peace, Fishy, old pal.

Daily Random Musing item: Hello Kitty has no mouth. I find that incredibly creepy.

Another Slow News Day

Gentle readers,

You know it's going to be a slow news day when one of the headlines has to do with Katie Holmes and whether or not she "faked" participation in the New York Marathon. Firstly, who really cares? Secondly, the case that they make is pretty lame and easily explainable. There's a mystery runner who appears beside her in every picture but doesn't exist in the marathon's data base. Who could this mystery man be? Did he carry her "chip" that establishes times? OR is he simply a body guard? I think Katie would be really crazy to take to the streets of NYC on foot with zero protection. Perhaps she didn't want others to know she was running with a guard and asked that he make an attempt to blend in with the other runners. Either way, who gives a hi-dee-ho?

I've got no issue with Katie Holmes other than her choice in mate...and you can't blame folks for that.

Daily Random Musing Item: Artichokes contain iron. That's nuts.

Complication frustration

Gentle readers,

We live in a time complicated by an overwhelming number of options. I'll use yesterday as an example. I'll just say that I am not generally the shopper. However, circumstances had me at the grocery store yesterday...with my three year-old daughter...after we had climbed snowy mountains in a church parking lot...and had stopped at a quaint coffee house for a hot cocoa. The items we needed were simple enough: Milk, eggs, orange juice, bread, mac-n-cheese and fish sticks. Six items. Run of the mill items. Nothing exotic or complicated. Right? Wrong.

We walk in and head for the bread. I know what kind of bread we get...Peppridge Farm Carb Style Wheat Bread. I found it easily among the sea of breads in the bread department. Oh yes, there's a bread department. It's off the bakery wing. So, I also picked up some eggs...a dozen brown Grade A large eggs. We were off to the races. Daughter was being good, but having some trouble focusing and staying in her skin. I'll never again give her a chocolaty drink before shopping, even if I think I'll only be a few minutes.

Milk, this one I know, also. Generic skim with the latest "sell by" date. Sweet! I'll just swing by the OJ and we're almost done. Have you seen the OJ section lately? It's immense and complicated and immensely complicated. OJ used to be Tropicana or Generic. Now, there's fifteen brands and each has its own No Pulp, Low Pulp, Some Pulp, Lots of Pulp, Pulp-tastic, OJ with things added, like Calcium and Vitamins...OJ with things taken away like Low Acid, Low Sugar. My head was spinning. I centered myself, asked Daughter to stop spinning the cart around in a death spiral, grabbed generic Low Pulp and hoped for the best.

We had picked up the mac-n-cheese on our way down a previous aisle and only needed fish sticks. On our 5th lap around the frozen food section, Daughter began to hop. Out loud I said "You've been really good. I know you are jumping, literally, out of your skin, but as soon as I figure out where they are hiding the fish sticks, we can go home." A nice woman heard me and pointed me to the fish department. Yup, next to the fresh fish is a frozen case where they hide the Gorton's and Van Dekamp's. Now, the fresh chicken and such has no frozen case next to it...the frozen chicken fingers live in the frozen food section. What kind of logic is that?!

When I left the grocery store, 45 minutes later with my 6 items, I was exhausted.

Daily Random Musing Item: Why do they classify eggs as Grade A when I've never seen anyone selling Grade B eggs. Further, if there is no Grade B, what's with the Grade A classification? If there is a Grade B, what happens to those eggs?

Nuclear Party at My House!

So, upon conversing with one of my good friends about the questions being asked of the canditates about the reality of nuclear attack in the next 3 to 10 years, we've made a pact. The sirens go off, we go down together. During the conversation, I had visions of us all hunkered down in the basement ala Anne Frank trying to silence Dog 2, as generic bad guys storm the suburban neighborhood.

Daily random musing item: The Golden Globes were cancelled due to the writer's strike. We were treated to watching two people who I don't know read the nominees and announce the winners. Really? At that point, if there's no red carpet, no limos, no plunging necklines and celebrities to either impress us or make fools of themselves, what have you truly got? I would not watch an hour TV program to have my local sportscaster read the results of the NFL season to me. I want to watch the SuperBowl. So, if we're planning OscarsLite or I Can't Believe It's Not The Oscars, please spare me. I can read a list of winners online myself and make witty banter over it with my friends.

Cooking

Gentle Readers,

Generally, with the cooking, me not so much. Can I prepare meals? Yes, if I have a recipe. But that's reading not cooking. Cooking is tasting something and saying "Hmmm, I think this dish needs more Jamaican allspice." and having that be just what's missing.


So, we've established WYM cannot cook. However, yesterday morning, with the troops not feeling well, I stepped up and made scrambled eggs, biscuits and bacon. Scrambled eggs, no real biggie. Bacon was microwave variety. Biscuits sponsored by Bisquick, however, I added the requisite milk and mix in a bowl and stirred it up. Then I tried to roll it out to make that perfectly round Hungry Jack biscuits. That worked not. So, drop biscuits it was. Daughter ate everything on her plate. I was proud.


Then, an hour or so later, she comes up to me and says "Mutti? Please I have nutter blakit." I couldn't figure out what she was asking me. "What do you want, honey?" "What you made for us?" A BISCUIT! Better yet, another one of MY biscuits. That was cool. I couldn't be more proud.



Random item on which to muse: What's in a name? Well, Bill, may I call you Bill? Sorry, Mr. Shakespeare, sir. If you're Oprah, everything. All you have to say to swing doors wide for you is, "I'm Oprah's (insert job title here)." On the back of my cereal box the other morning was the shining face of Oprah's personal trainer. Didn't you use to have to play a professional sport or have won an Olympic medal to wind up on a cereal box?

Kids with runny noses scare me

Gentle readers - My daughter is three. She has a cold. That's not scary. The stuff coming out of her nose though...that would turn back armies of Huns.
I'll explain. Her nose looks like it needs a wipe (every 3 seconds). So you grab a tissue and wipe it, right? Aren't you cute. Maybe the first time. But here's how a pro does it.
You command your child to come to you for a nose wipe. She rolls her glassy little eyes at you. You fortify yourself with no less than three tissues and descend on the runny nose. You proceed to wipe while a virtual clown-car of snot is discharged from the tiny little nose in your care.
It's nasty. I say we line the borders of the US with snotty nosed three-year olds in need of a wipe. We could let the Border Patrol go and Ta da! Budget surplus!

2008 comes in the way 2007 went out

Gentle readers,
Problems, problems, problems. This time of a vehicular variety. On the way to my in-laws house, the truck died on the side of the highway. The truck got towed, a cab was called and the snowstorm started.
Perspective - the three year-old was singing and happy the whole time. For her it was an adventure.
Reality - I might be buying a new car soon. Anyone got $25,000 I can borrow?
Happy New Year!