The Life of “I”

Dearly Beloved and I didn’t go to many movies last year.  We’ve seen too many that were  too loud, too soft, too long, too violent, too foul-mouthed, too stupid, not to mention too expensive.  Or maybe it was that we were too lazy.  Our interest began to wane shortly after we swore off movie popcorn because it was so bad for us.

We haven’t jumped on the Red Box bandwagon either.  It’s fine if you know what you want, but it’s not a way to browse, is there?  I can’t even buy a can of tomatoes without reading the cans, so I can’t choose a movie based on the title alone.

Tuesday, I rented Flight and Skyfall from our library and congratulated myself on getting two movies we wanted to see for less than the price of a movie ticket.  While I was out, I ran by the plant nursery and selected a flat of snapdragons and several spring and summer perennials.

Had DB not been interested in seeing them, too, I’d have simply watched them on my laptop, but he wanted to see them on his fancy HD+ TV, so he brought our old DVD player in from the bedroom and hooked it up in the den.

About 15 minutes into the first one, the screen suddenly went blank.  No sound, no picture… just grey screen.  We put in the second movie.  Nothing.

“I think,” DB informed me as he fiddled with a fistful of remote controls, “that it is probably the player. It has died of old age.”

I assumed that we’d watch them on the laptop at that point, but DB had a different solution:  ”We need  a new DVD player.”

At this point, I should probably mention that the man has been sick with a stomach flu–again– for almost a week now.  He has really felt rotten.  That made me the designated shopper.

I headed over to Best Buy, which is in one of those parking garage kind of malls with a Best Buy and Trader Joe’s on the same parking level.  At any given time, there are so many cars trolling for a parking space that there is no such thing as an empty spot.  One waits until she spots a shopper leaving the store and tries to be in the right place at the right time to snag the shopper’s parking space.  When the thin mom with the pony tail, a baby in a car seat, and a cart full of environmentally correct bags headed toward the aisle I was on, I guessed “black SUV” and stopped just short of it, flipping on my turn signal so that the trollers behind me would go around.   I’d guessed right.  I listened to my book on CD while she loaded her baby and her groceries into the SUV, pushed her cart to the side, got behind the wheel and maneuvered her vehicle out of the tight,  perpendicular parking place amid all the circling vulture cars.

DB had suggested Best Buy because they were apt to have knowledgeable sales persons  to assist me.  I think they were at lunch.  The very nice young man who assisted me said that he knew nothing about them.  I selected one that was the same brand as our TV.

Much to the disappointment of the drivers lusting for my space, I put the DVD player box into the car and walked up to Trader Joe’s at the other end of the parking level, figuring that I might as well take full advantage of my parking space.  I returned home with three bags of groceries and a DVD player.

DB opened the box and assembled his toys, only to find that the required HDM1 connector was not included and had to be purchased separately.  This time I headed to Target, which is across the street from the Trader Joe/Best Buy mall.

Since I don’t go to Target very often, I might as well stock up on some pharmacy and laundry items while I was there, I figured.  I left with the connector cord and two bags of purchases.

When I returned the movies to the library so that I wouldn’t have overdue fines,  I ran by Walgreen’s to drop off a couple of prescription renewals, then ran into EarthFare because it was giving away free Irish Vintage Cheddar with a small purchase.  What the heck, since I was already in the neighborhood?!  While there,  I bought an corned beef brisket, a couple of crab cakes, and three bags of groceries.

I saw on Wowbrary that my library has ordered Life of Pi, another movie we want to see.  I put it on hold.  Why not?  We have a giant box of Boy Scout popcorn we need to eat.

Look at how much we’re saving!

Flora and Flushers

Not that I think my friends and family go overboard with their fall decorating, but I do want to share a couple of photos.

My gardening friend claims someone did this when she was out of town.

You probably wouldn’t want to take a book with you when using this one:

“I found out why cats drink out of the toilet. My mother told me it’s because the water is cold in there. And I’m like, how did my mother know that?” - Wendy Liebman

I Went to a Tea Party

This week, I was invited to a tea party.

We hadn’t planned to go near the center city during the convention and during this foray we learned quickly that the jokes Jon Stewart and The Daily Show folks made about the tight security in uptown Charlotte during the Democratic convention weren’t far off the mark.  Police officers in droves, many on bicycles.

These guys–a swat team from the Clayton County GA Sheriff’s Department– had to be a crowd favorite.  They were a hoot!

Nevertheless,  Dearly Beloved was able to drop us off right at the hotel entrance.  I had been invited by a South Carolina delegate and since this wasn’t her first convention, I knew exactly what to do: I simply followed her around.

There were some extraordinary women in that room.

Sandra Fluke and my arms.  The rest of me is cropped from the photo because I looked as if I’d accidentally impaled myself on a frozen corn cob.

That is Sandra Fluke, who was thrown into the spotlight after being denied the opportunity to testify before the House Oversight and Government Reform Committee.  Democrats on the committee had been told they could have only one witness and they chose Ms. Fluke, a Georgetown Law School graduate,  to speak about the importance of requiring insurance companies to cover birth control.  (You know, the same companies that cover Viagra.)  The others testifying in that first round of witnesses were a Catholic bishop, a protestant pastor, a rabbi, and a couple of professors… all men.

Sandra Fluke, however, was the one who was rejected by Republicans on the committee as being “unqualified” to speak.

Needless to say, a lot of people didn’t see it that way and after Rush Limbaugh attacked her in a lengthy diatribe on his radio show, calling her a slut and a prostitute, the pushback from the public was so great that Rush lost some of his major sponsors.

I was delighted to be able to talk briefly with her.  When I watched her speech at the convention on TV a few hours later,  I was amazed that this eloquent speaker was the same soft-spoken, almost shy young woman I’d met earlier.

Disheartening,  after Fluke’s speech, Ann Coulter tweeted a comment about her so vile and disgusting that I won’t repeat it here.

If you’re wondering about the accessory on my left arm, it’s the magic bracelet by which I gained entry. 

Who else did I meet?

Hmmm.  You may have a little trouble recognizing anyone in this shot.  It’s me, with Nancy Pelosi, just as some dude turned on his mega flash while my friend was taking the photo with her iPhone.

Maybe you’ll recognize her here.

Yes, that’s Nancy Pelosi, minority leader of the House of Representatives.

The most unforgettable woman I was privileged to meet there was  Tammy Duckworth, who is running in Illinois for a seat in the House of Representatives.

She was in a wheelchair that afternoon, having lost both legs and severely injuring her right arm in a helicopter accident in Iraq.  (Ironically, before she was deployed to Iraq in 2004, she had been working on a Rotary International project to provide wheelchairs for the disabled in developing countries.)  Every step she takes–literally and figuratively–is an example of her extraordinary courage.  She walked on her artificial limbs, using a cane, to deliver her speech that evening.

Her opponent is Representative Joe Walsh, who just a few days ago made this statement about her:

“Ms. Duckworth has continued to show more interest in rubbing elbows with big name party insiders, then [SIC] staying home and tackling the tough issues facing voters in the district,” he said in a statement on his website. “It has become abundantly clear that at this point the only debate Ms. Duckworth is actually interested in having is which outfit she’ll be wearing for her big speech.”

I watched her “big speech.”   I don’t remember what she wore, but I won’t forget her passion, or the dignity with which she walked onto the stage.

Lest you think that Rep. Walsh’s remarks were taken out of context, here is another example, this one when he accused her of not being a ”true hero” because, he said, she made her military service central to her campaign.  What she has actually done is make military veterans, especially the disabled, a centerpiece of her campaign message.

“I have so much respect for what she did in the fact that she sacrificed her body for this country,” said Walsh, simultaneously lowering his voice as he leaned forward before pausing for dramatic effect. “Ehhh. Now let’s move on.”
“What else has she done? Female, wounded veteran … ehhh,” he continued. 

Tammy is up against a wall of money, since big money PACs such as New Prosperity (Sam Fox, the swift boater) and the Koch Brothers like the Joe Walsh style and are pumping large influxes of cash into the campaign against Mrs. Duckworth.

It seems that we aren’t past attacks on “uppity women” after all.  Can a Congress which is about 85% male represent women properly?  In an atmosphere where men rule–state and national legislatures, the media, corporations, churches, etc., is it coincidence that good looks and cleavage are required to work on TV news alongside paunchy, senior men?   What kind of example is that for our daughters and granddaughters?  For that matter, what does it tell our sons and grandsons?  In 2012, are women who want entry into power circles on the basis of their intelligence and abilities still considered “ball busters” and “fema-nazis”?

Nancy Pelosi celebrated 25 years in Congress this year.  At the event I attended, she stressed the need for less money influencing Congress and more women in power.  If we want our daughters and our granddaughters to be able to dream of making changes for the better, shouldn’t we be supporting the women who are already trying to do that?

Here, here.  Now… now.

Booty Calls

The sock-it-to-me humidity that smacks me in the face these days when I open the door to step out for the morning paper brings the heat of July to mind.  Those were the weeks when we were juggling the fun of Camp Grandad and the work of keeping the beach-house-not-on-the-beach ready for showing, plus treks to the doctor to figure out why my heart was threatening to mutiny.

We kept Granddog Ivy during Camp Grandad, so whenever there was a showing, we’d hide the dog bowls and beds, mop the dog drool from the sunroom floor, spray the de-doggy spritzer, and head for the dog park. Ivy loved the park and could hardly wait to start running.  Miss Piggy detested it.

It’s easy to see why.  Even at 16, she’s still got it.

Not that she wants it.

Eventually she dug a hole under a bench and parked her butt in it.  We realized that she was so miserable that she’d prefer to stay in the car.  After that, we parked in a shady spot, left the back door of the station wagon up, and she’d contentedly chew her bone, trying to polish it off so that she could start on Ivy’s while she was romping..

The dog park used to be all grass, but it’s just around the fringes now and the dogs run in the sandy soil.

Can she look any more ticked off?!?!

Ivy, on the other hand, loved making new friends.

These young moms were at the park every morning.  First they would gather for sit-ups and floor exercises, lying in the grass under the tall pines (not in the dog park!)  then they would circle the park, taking the tougher, uphill route.

They deserve merit badges:  Size 2 tags in some new jeans.  Go, Little Mamas!

The only size 2 items in our house are some lead pencils.

You have to stay in shape. My grandmother, she started walking five miles a day when she was 60. She’s 97 today and we don’t know where the hell she is. ~ Ellen DeGeneres

I don’t exercise.  If God had wanted me to bend over, he would have put diamonds on the floor. - Joan Rivers

100+ Looks Better on a Spelling Test

Yes, it’s just as hot as you think it is.  Take a look at this chart from the National Climactic Data Center.

Those red spots point out the places where maximum temperatures were broken in June.  I found this in a most interesting article on NPR’s website.  You can read the entire article here.

Camp Grandad has certainly been impacted by the heat.  It’s just too darned hot to play.  Too hot to garden, to cook, to play golf, even to swim.  My library card currently has 51 books checked out and I think Dearly Beloved’s card might be smoking also.  The grandsons are fast readers and no one wants to be caught short.

Brit (that’s what I’ll call my English friend from now on)  e-mailed this week to offer sympathy about our searing heat.  She said that she could scarcely imagine it, since they are having a cool, wet summer in England.

She thought this video might help.

FRYday

The weather report says it’s 105 here right now with a heat index of 118.   If I could teach the dogs to use the toilet, I wouldn’t go outside at all this weekend.  No need to whine about it though; it’s probably hot where you are, too.  And if it isn’t, nobody wants to hear about it.

It isn’t just the heat that’s making me steam.

In fact, I need to say a word about that.

VAGINA.

Furthermore, UTERUS!

You’ve probably heard about Michigan State Rep. Lisa Brown who shocked… shocked, I tell you!… some of her fellow legislators by saying the word vagina during a floor discussion about anti-choice legislation.

Commercials about erectile dysfunction, lubricants, penile implants morning, noon, and night … and uterus and vagina become the impolitic words?  How can I ask this delicately…  why is it only the presumed …um… destination that is unspeakable?

Oh, the irony!  Those of us who grew up with poopies and peepees thought it was a good thing to tell our children the correct name for their own body parts.

How can it be that there are some state legislators– grown-ups– who are offended by the words?  I’d lay odds they couldn’t find a uterus on a female anatomy chart.   And while the word vagina may shock them, I’ll bet that most of the men could come up with at least ten slang terms left over from their adolescent years.   Arrested development.  Pity the spouses.

Are women supposed to be embarrassed?  They’re trying to shame us?

That horse left the barn so long ago that even the glue factory shut down in the 70′s.

How can there possibly be any serious discourse with such ninnies?

So, I’m trying to spread the word.  Words.

Sing along with me.     Vagina… vagina… I’m teaching the word to my mynah.

Try this one:  

Nothing could be finer than to un-legislate our vaginas in the mor-or-or-ning.

Nothing could be more ridiculous than censoring the word uterus in the morning

Where the wing nuts gathered… on the legislative floor…

Demeaning women… we’ve heard it all before.

Honestly, the situation makes me hot to do a bit of name calling myself.  A pox on this bunch of posterior fedoras.  Note the anatomical correctness.

Otherwise, I’d call them asshats.

Diamond Jubilee

My mother’s first cousin, the self-appointed (and believe me, unchallenged!) keeper of the family history, wrote recently to tell of the various organizations my kids and I were eligible to join.   I appreciated the thought, but had no interest.   In fact, it crossed my mind that my ability to join the DAR or 17th Century Colonial Dames (?!?) meant that many subsequent generations had much opportunity to dilute my proud English blood.

Drat.  That probably explains the diminution of my spunk.  Too bad, because I do admire spunk.

No one has been a more striking example of British spunk and indomitability than Queen Elizabeth during and even prior to her 60-year-reign.   I’ve eagerly watched footage of the planned celebrations.   The British people had every reason to celebrate her Diamond Jubilee in grand and glorious fashion.

And celebrate they have!   The weather has not deterred more than a million people from participating in official and locally organized celebrations.  The river pageant flotilla of 1,000 boats on the Thames River was quite spectacular with the naval vessels, the pleasure boats, the geyser boats, and the floating bel complete with ringing bells. The band, at least, was under a roof, playing enthusiastically while an assemblage of singers stood on an open barge in the pouring rain and sang God Save the Queen.   The 86-year-old monarch stood with her family on a boat and watched the entire event.

Since roughly half of Americans dislike a president (from either party) at any given time, there is something very refreshing about watching a nation united in good wishes for her monarch.

God Save the Queen, indeed.

My British friend, also a woman of spunk (she of the Burns Night Supper, the thatched roof house,  and the garden in my header) told me of the fun planned in her village.

She helped organize the festivities there–fun and food which included a Welly Toss, a throwing competition for which first prize was the Golden Welly Award–a small pair of (spray-painted) gold boots.  Runners-up received chocolate medals.  As she explained, no expense was spared.

I’m certain my friend’s entry in the cupcake contest would have garnered my vote.  Behold, her cupcake:

I’d know Her Royal Cupcake anywhere, wouldn’t you?

To see more of the Diamond Jubilee celebration, this site will take you to links of some of the BBC coverage of the events:  http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-18316899

Here’s one with links to the Queen’s coronation in 1953 and other related history:  http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/people/queen_elizabeth_ii

I cannot lead you into battle. I do not give you laws or administer justice but I can do something else – I can give my heart and my devotion to these old islands and to all the peoples of our brotherhood of nations. -
Elizabeth II

It’s all to do with the training: you can do a lot if you’re properly trained. - Elizabeth II

O Lord, our God, arise,
Scatter her enemies,
And make them fall.
Confound their politics,
Frustrate their knavish tricks,
On thee our hopes we fix:
God save the Queen. - Author Uncertain

Stoned

It’s been a week now and I’m still bummed about the passage of Amendment One here in North Carolina.

It seems counterintuitive to prohibit two loving adults–regardless of sex–from marrying.   Sheesh!   Put that energy toward preventing little girls from being promised to old men… toward getting rid of child pornography.   We’re among the worst in the nation in the number of children who suffer “food insecurity.”  That means they can’t assume they’re going to have food that day.  Or the next.  Thousands are homeless in our state.

I must tell you, I have never understood the threat of gay marriage and I can speak with some authority.  At one time, Dearly Beloved and I lived in a hip, contemporary urban neighborhood where, for a while at least, we were the only married heterosexual couple on the street.

The day after we moved in, we were welcomed with still-warm chocolate chip cookies from the two men who lived diagonally across from us.  We liked them immediately.  They watered my plants when we were away, Introduced us to their extended families, and invited us to their parties.  They are still a couple two decades later.

The two men next door to us moved in about the same time we did and their relationship is still intact today.   One confided to me that his mother told him she would never set foot in his house.  It was her loss, for they were intelligent, funny, kind, successful guys.

Here is the wording of the NC amendment:

[] For [] Against
Constitutional amendment to provide that marriage between one man and one woman is the only domestic legal union that shall be valid or recognized by this State.

This wording affects common law relationships between a man and a woman as well.  Already a local commissioner is at work to take away benefits for the families of any city/county workers, gay or straight,  who don’t conform to this definition.

Far wiser people than I have written about homosexuality.  I’ll stay out of that and so should Franklin Graham.  I can, however, report that during the time we lived in the gayborhood,  DB and I never once considered switching teams.

Perhaps our experience may reassure the professor of Christian ethics at Southeastern Baptist Seminary about two concerns he voiced during the pre-election debate.  Although I dearly loved my Akita, the late Howard Lee, it never crossed my mind to marry him.   Nor was Dearly Beloved inclined to wed the bowl of ice cream he ate every night.

I hope that puts the professor’s mind to rest.

Although I can’t remember the name of the book, a line comes to mind where one of the characters asked the other, “How can you possibly think that??”   Her friend answered, “I don’t have to think.  I’m Catholic.”  

Of course I have thinking Catholic friends.  The point is that too many of “the faithful,” whatever the denomination, let someone else tell them what to believe and I’m not talking Jesus.  

Despite all the fist-pumping preachers and the ecstatic red-suited middle-aged platinum blondes celebrating on the television news,  I can’t picture a jubilant Jesus high-fiving the passage of this legislation.

It feels pretty low here in the land of the moral high ground.

March: Madder Than You Knew

The NCAA Sweet Sixteen begins today and Dearly Beloved is bummed that the first game isn’t until 7 PM.  He’s carping on behalf of our grandsons as well as basketball-loving kids everywhere because they’ll probably be able to watch only one of tonight’s games.

Some of DB’s mutterings are on his own behalf.  He knows he’s apt to doze about midway into the second game.

“Why did they DO that?” he whined when he saw the TV listings.

I’m sure that not everyone feels the same way he does.  There are groups that applaud the schedule.  Take, for instance, the Vasectomites.

The number of vasectomies increases dramatically during March Madness, according to a USA Today article.  The head of the Dept. of Regional Urology at the Cleveland Clinic says that he had them scheduled every 15 minutes… twice as many as he usually performs.

These days, the procedure can be scalpel-free and the anesthesia doesn’t even require a needle, so the sobs should be down to mere whimpering.

Guys who have steadfastly ignored their wives’ pleas for assistance in the birth control department decided the Big V could be an option, provided it was scheduled during NCAA playoff rounds.  A  couple of recuperative days on the sofa are just what the doctor orders.

Good enough!

Not only that,  the ice packs keep them from dozing….

There has been no outcry from the political candidates.  Or Congress.

I suppose it’s only humane to schedule the rest of the games after work hours, as optional appendectomies aren’t that easy to come by.

At our house, DB is making game preparations of his own:  an early nap. beginning now.

If that’s not enough to keep him alert tonight, ice packs are stashed in the freezer.

When creating wives, God promised men that good and obedient wives would be found in all corners of the world.

And then She smiled and made the earth round.  (Unknown)

Time To Get Tough

With all the conversations about birth control on the news lately, please do yourself a favor and watch.  It’s men doing most of the talking and they’re coming up with cavemen proclamations like, Viagra – covered by insurance.  Birth Control – meh….

In situations like this, the question arises… What would Betty Say?  Lo and behold, the answer came in today’s e-mail: