I have a rueful smile on my face, because I don't. In fact, I'm pretty sure my recent diagnosis of depression is caused by the fact that I don't really chill out. It's now on my homework/to do list. I need to find ways to relax myself.

Which really means that I'm open to suggestions.

Background: My grandmother was married something like seven or eight times. Many of the marriages took place while she was drunk so not all of them "stuck". She was a flawed human being and not very nice. Yet, no one would have denied this broken, flawed person the chance of love, coupling, security, or happiness.

With that in mind, why deny it to same-sex couples?

While I've heard all of the arguments about how it's against God, contributes to the breakdown of society, and how these people aren't normal, I can't help but think that these are bullshit excuses thrown out by intolerant people.

I'm not a Godly person. However, I'd like to think that any deity that would exist would recognize sexuality as being different from morality. I would like to think that, like any parent, God would want his/her creations to be happy, secure, and create a better life. If that's the case, why deny them this? I just can't believe a deity would do that. In fact, I think people blame God for their own shortcomings.

As for breaking down society, how? Doesn't anyone find it interesting that "these people" who want to "break society's basic laws" would want marriage at all? I think, if anything, it shows how intrinsic and basic marriage is as a need to people. Furthermore, I think it really emphasizes how much same-sex couples want what everyone else has - a need for a societal norm. Save for sexuality, the desire to be like everyone else is there. I mean, with that in mind, shouldn't we be tarring and feathering George Clooney for his anti-marriage stand?

I actually believe committed coupling is good for society. It creates stability and a community in which people work towards common goals. Casting people from our community is never a good plan. I would propose that such an action would be an affront to God.

I've never, ever understood the concept that same-sex marriage would work against heterosexual marriage. At its core, marriage is two people coming together to be one. From there, we hope that this unit is a force for good, change, and acceptance. Are there people who give marriage "a bad name"? Sure (see my story about my grandmother). Yet, they are always given the chance to get it right.

Then why deny marriage based on sexuality? Truly. It's hard enough to be married. There aren't tons of great role models, but we could have more. I say we make this our equal rights project and let everyone say YES to the dress.

When I was a child, I lived for the nights when my mom would come home too tired to cook and decide on breakfast for dinner. In retrospect, what was she thinking? The feasts she made us, and the amount of time she was in the kitchen, had to be more time, work and energy than any throw together meal (note: 2nd favorite was grilled cheese sandwiches and soup_.

I've often wondered, again in retrospect, if it wasn't about money. After all, lots of breakfast items are cheap. I don't think Mom used a pancake mix, and this was before foodies made certain cuts of meat "designer" and thus more expensive. Whatever it was though, it was a feast of eggs, pancakes or waffles, bacon or sausage, and fried potatoes.

Obviously, I'm a fan. In fact, we ate at Denny's just last night. I had scrambled egg whites, chicken sausage, hash browns and pancakes. It was lovely.

Lest you think, "Of course she loves it. She's not cooking." please note that I will make breakfast for dinner. In fact, I'm currently in need of a new waffle iron, and I bought an electric skillet so I could cook large amounts of hash browns all at once. I'm not just a fan, I'm dedicated to the art.

That, my friends, is love.

My sense of direction
is compromised at best
I often turn east
when I'm supposed to turn west

I prefer simple terms
like is it left or right
"north side of the street"
fills me with fright

On paper I understand
cardinal directions quite well
but when you give them to me
I wish you'd go to hell

Voting

I think this is an interesting question because I read it as asking about national elections (presidency). Yet, the opportunity to vote comes up much more frequently in life. There are local, state and national elections. Plus elections within school sites and school districts. If you live in a condo/townhouse there are often boards. Plus special elections for all kinds of questions.

With all that in mind -- Thursday. I last voted Thursday (3/22) for Teacher of the Year (I hope my nominee wins!), our union board, and for NEA representatives.

However, should a ballot appear in the mail (I'm registered mail-in ballot), I would vote. It's my civic duty.

I can think of a lot of great movie soundtracks. Unfortunately, as I'm mentally reviewing them, I'm rather hard-pressed to think of a great movie with an equally great soundtrack. In fact, the soundtracks in my mind surpass the movies they represent.

#1 -- Any John Hughes Film. I don't care if it's "Pretty in Pink" or "The Breakfast Club" or even "St. Elmo's Fire", the music really makes the movie. Listening to the music brings back every emo 1980s feeling you ever had about being from the wrong side of the tracks, geeky, or just in debt because you were banging your boss. When you sing along, it's like you're LIVING Samatha's Long Duck Dong nightmare, and your panties are being used inappropriately by the geek.

#2 -- Fast Times at Ridgemont High. This is just spectacular. Then again, would you expect anything less from a former Rolling Stone writer? Cameron Crowe managed to pull together a soundtrack that enhanced the movie, without becoming metaphors for it. The same can be said for "Almost Famous."

#3 -- American Graffiti. The way the music moved the night along was so inspired. I loved how previously released music was used to invoke nostalgia. Even better? Wolf Man Jack!

#4 -- Austin Powers/Josie and the Pussycats. These are super fun soundtracks that I don't necessarily connect to the movies. In fact, they stand alone as stuff I just like to listen to. OK, I don't listen to Josie and the Pussycats. That would be my husband. :) Yes, he's a man. In fact, right now he's playing it for me so that I can really get how well-done the music was.

#5 -- Dummy. I have to put this because Mike Ruekberg wrote and performed a lot of the music on it. He's from my neck of the woods and a friend of my BFF, Cassie. He deserves a shout out because his music is really catchy. Not that I saw the movie, but I do listen to the soundtrack often.

#6 -- Purple Rain. OK, it's true that this should have been #1. It's original; it moves the action forward; and it's integral to the movie. Unfortunately, while much (not all) of the album has stood the test of time, the movie hasn't. Also, point just have to be deducted for not including any of the other awesome music (HEL-LO Morris Day and the Time?) on the soundtrack. Brother could have used to share the spotlight. Then again, he did let Morris Day mock him and nail his girl. Maybe that counts as even?

This is an interesting question to ponder. Fact is, I stopped believing in a "higher power" a long time ago. Sure, I dabble. I like to think I can bargain -- you know -- Pascal's Wager and all. I can support the idea of deism, and I really do find divinity in nature.

I do not, however, attend religious institutes. I do, however, rock a MACH 10 morality system. Seriously, the only thing keeping me from being a nun is the aforementioned lack of belief and a tremendous love of sex. Plus, I'm married. They kind of frown on that. Apparently Jesus can be a polygamist, but I can't.

In that sense of having a very defined sense of right and wrong, of purpose, and of community, I'm 120% religious. I actually believe in churches and support their good works in communities. I strongly support any institution that puts the well-being of others first, challenges its community to be the best it can be, and does the hard work of making the world a better place.

I'm even religious in that old-fashioned sense of wanting to tell you how to live, to a point. I don't like drugs, alcohol, an over-attachment to material possessions, or the need to obsess over one's phone. I think we can all use to get over ourselves. I think we all need to walk a mile in someoneelse's shoes, learn to be humble and show humility, and that there is greatness in being graceful.

While I define myself an atheist, I am in no way removed from the realm of religious. I act in many of the same ways and hold many of the same beliefs. Save that I think you only live once -- right here, right now. There is nothing else when you're gone -- no punishment, no reward.

I push myself to do the right thing because it's the right thing to do -- not for a reward in Heaven or to please a deity.

Truthfully I would never want to be stuck with only one piece of candy from the box. I am a glutton. I love many flavors -- most of them fruit -- and dislike being confined to one.

That said, Sees makes this wonderful brown sugar one called a butterscotch square that I find so wonderfully sugary, sweet, and chewy that I do look for it. I always hope that when I bite down I will find it. Unfortunately, as a rectangular piece, there's always the awful chance of biting into a nut or a chew. However, it is a chance I'll take.

Mind you, if I'm buying for myself, it's all soft centers and fruit flavors. :) And I'll eat EVERY.SINGLE.ONE.

nancy grace show

Whenever I hear Nancy's Grace's whiny, insistent drawl, I want to shoot the television. Seriously. It doesn't even matter what the topic is, because it's probably some murder or abduction story that she's going to milk until there is some sort of conclusion. Then she'll have a reminiscing, highlight reel.

The worst was "Little CAY-lee Anthony". From the first bars to the ending crescendo, it was just one constant day-after-day hammering and yammering of Nancy's self-importance. Her need for "justice for "Poor little CAY-lee" was enough to send me running from the room.

Then, as if Nancy weren't enough, we have more imitators. There is no topic too small to be blown up to huge proportions. It's like "Alice's Restaurant" in that the viewer is treated to

"And they was using up all kinds of cop equipment that they had hanging around the police officer's station. They was taking plaster tire tracks, foot prints, dog smelling prints, and they took twenty seven eight-by-ten colour glossy photographs with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one explaining what each one was to be used as evidence against us. Took pictures of the approach, the getaway, the northwest corner the southwest corner and that's not to mention the aerial photography."

Then Nancy has her team of experts, to whom she won't listen and over whom she'll talk, give their opinions as people WHO WEREN'T there and don't have access to the evidence, to talk about what they think.

And so the talking goes, day-after-day, hour-after-hour, until, praise sweet Jesus, some other kid is murdered by his mother, or some other young girl goes off to have a sexual tryst and doesn't return. It's sick to admit, but at least it's NEW.

Sigh, Don Henley was right "we want dirty laundry", and Nancy Grace is our laundress.

Only three? I am passionate about many things, but truly I find that I am one of those people who will go for big government and interfere with your life. Why? I am naturally a yenta, plus I have a relative disregard that people can or truly will rule themselves judiciously. I mean, HEL-LO, just look at the religious right wing republicans who rave on about personal responsibility and God who then rally against a "welfare state" and want to get up in my grill about abortion. Obviously there's an entire diatribe on hypocrisy and irony in there, but I won't go into *THAT*.

Here are my top three: equal rights for all, regardless of sex, religion, color, or any other issue you can find to discriminate against another person, but including reproductive rights; an appropriate welfare system and state; and finally separation of big business and government, especially in reference to education.

First, equal rights means that anyone who is an adult over 18 can get married to another adult over 18. That said, there should be no marriage whatsoever for minors. I don't care if the parents give permission; that's just another layer of crazy. Only adults should be able to enter into marriage. Think of me as the anaBaptist of marriage.

Equal rights also means that if you wouldn't interfere with a man getting viagra, don't interfere with a woman getting birth control, They are both issues of reproductive health. There needs to be equality.

Finally, I feel abortion comes under this. While you might be trying to save a fetus, you could be sacrificing a life. You don't have to like it, and I don't care about your statistics. You do what's right for the people who are HERE, and let your God worry about the rest.

Next there's welfare. Let's be honest, no one has a cow about someone collecting unemployment or social security as living off the government. These are paid for (presumably through employer taxes) already, so people feel entitled. I pay taxes to support people who are having difficulty. Most of the time that means kids. I'm in the kid business. I believe in Maslow. Until that child has his or her basic needs met (including safety), there's no way on this planet that child can actualize hopes, dreams and goals. You want a good educational system, start with appropriate welfare. Find a way to make it work. I'm OK with rules and regulations, but be sure they're fair and make sure the idiots you have working for you ('cause they're kinda on welfare too) do their jobs.

Finally, separation of BIG business and government. I like how when a company CEO squawks everyone's all up in their grill listening like it's music. PUH-LEASE. I say this sincerely, they're looking for tax breaks so they can be richer. No more, no less. Those small businesses you pretend to care about can be struggling for ages, you ain't never gonna give them a tax break on nuthin'. You get some big-ass company telling you they'll move to such and such without their breaks, and I'm telling you you're an idiot for entertaining them. First, you're going to give in. Second, they're going to move their manufacturing, service, whatever to the exact place they said they would. This time, though, it's cause there aren't enough educated people. Really? Not enough people to answer your phones? Really? No one who can put peg into hole repeatedly? Really? I'm rolling my eyes at this. But we don't REGULATE them 'cause that would be BAD so we accept whatever bullshit lie they feed. If that's not a dysfunctional romance, I don't know what is.

Truthfully, the law should be passed that IF a CEO is caught doing ANYTHING that tanks the company, and therefore the US economy, that mo-fo gets charged with treason and faces a firing squad. Yes, I said it. WE EXECUTE THAT MOTHER FUCKER.

Not only that, any illegal activity gets the company and its assets seized and turned over to the state. If I were in charge the first time this kind of blackmail took place, that CEO's sorry ass would be in bed with cocaine, a dead hooker, and a gun. Yes, I'd do something illegal and frame someone just to make my point. DON'T YOU EVER MESS WITH THE AMERICAN PEOPLE LIKE THAT, SON, 'CAUSE YOU WILL LOSE.

They say that we're all made in God's image. Now aren't' you more than a little afraid of a God that looks like me? More to the point, aren't you glad I'm not in politics?

I think when we're young, all people think that creating art will be what they do when they grow up. That's how important creation is to people. Unfortunately, we give up strictly artistic pursuits as we become more educated, not realizing that creativity and creation are vital parts of problem solving, analysis, writing, and science.

For the argument of sticking strictly with "art" as a medium consisting of visual, writing, and audio, I'm going to select a visual art form. I would love to make money weaving. Not just that, I would like to be known for my weavings.

I have this thought in my mind that's been there for many years that one could (and someone probably already does this, I just don't know about it) take the chorus of a song, convert it into a pattern, and weave fabric based on one's favorite music. Those would become wall hangings, because the yarns and fabrics would be special -- not pedestrian.

I have often longed to see what "Beethoven's Fifth" woven into a visual piece of blacks, whites, and greys with small knobs of fabric on the string, making visual what had previously been heard. More than that, I want to see Cher's "Believe", REM's "Everybody Hurts", and 'cause I'm me, Duran Duran's "Hungry Like the Wolf."

I find this desire interesting because I don't weave, nor do I have a loom or materials to even start. I know I'd have to be retaught in order to get anything started. More peculiar? I can't read music.

Yet, there's something divine about the intersection of art and music that compels me to consider that this is the life I would choose. If I could...

My childhood home is old and seriously tiny. At less than 800 square feet, it's amazing that my parents could raise three children there and remain sane. The most important thing to know about my mom's house. First, you had to walk through my parent's bedroom to get to the bathroom (AND the light switch for it was in my parent's bedroom).

There is a Quik-Trip up the street from my mom's house. It's been there since I was about 12. Because you had to walk through Mom and Dad's room to get to the bathroom, we'd try to go to the bathroom at Quik-Trip before going home. It never worked. I swear on all that is good and right tht the minute I hit the door, I had to pee like I hadn't gone in hours and had just consumed 48 ounces of Mountain Dew.

This meant that you were guaranteed to have Dad know, not only what time you walked in, but also your condition. You see, not finding the light switch, giggling, and acting stupid would all mean that the next morning (who am I kidding, 3 hours from NOW), you'd be listening to Marty Robbins singing "El Paso" and Dad telling you to get up to mow the lawn (or some other heinous chore).

Nothing says love like torture.

Silence and Respect

I believe I excel at giving people their "Come to Jesus" talk wherein I give them the gospel according to me. While everyone owns a piece of the truth, I like to make sure my piece is there first, spit-shone, shiny and ready to take on your truth in a smack-down of "Can you smell what THE ROCK is cooking?"

I will hold my tongue if I have a good reason, such as I don't really like you and can't be bothered to have any kind of real conversation with you. I see no reason to go through the intimacy of being honest, so I don't. I'll also lie if I have a good reason. Unfortunately people who know me are hip to this habit because it's the only time I stop to think.

In short, you want to be given the truth, come see me. Otherwise, just keep talking to those other people who spin your life for you. Then, when you're unhappy that things are the same as always, I'll be happy to say, "I told you so."

Shadenfreude -- it's not just for breakfast anymore.

When I read this prompt to my students, they laughed. They were pretty sure that the author had never met me. You see, I'm not a nature girl. While I totally appreciate nature for everything it gives us, and I like a good sun rise or sun set as much as any other non-romantic just heading to work or driving home, I'm not really one to *commune* with it. I mean it's nice to look at while I wait for my iPad to load.

I like my nature in small doses -- play grounds, parks, enclosed botanical gardens, the flower department at Michael's, etc. When I'm really looking to break out of my "I love concrete" shell, I will go for a hike or head to the ocean.

Of those two, I tend to prefer the ocean. I especially like pristine ones like Pebble Beach where the beach appears to be manicured daily, there are few animals (Save for people with dogs. What is *up* with that?), the ocean meets the sky in a beautiful monochromatic mirror, and the smell is one of fresh sea breeze.

Aside from that, I have a really nice nature wallpaper supplied by Apple. Who, like me, likes the *idea* of nature, but not so much the actual application.

Surprisingly, Friday is *not* my favorite day of the week. That would be Thursday. On Thursday I relax knowing I have only one more day of teaching, that after that I will have a small break.

On Friday, I start thinking about the next week's lessons. I consider what has to happen on Monday, what's coming up, and how to structure social studies so that the two cohorts are pretty much on the same level.

However, come Friday night I stop worrying and thinking about anything. Come Friday after work, it's time to celebrate the Sabbath (ironic, I know). It's time to hang out with my boys, watch DVRd TV, and simply sit back and read. It's the perfect precursor to a relaxing Saturday before resuming work on Sunday.

Solitude, combined with rest and relaxation, makes a perfect Friday.

Based on what I see, the iToy is a right of birth. I'm stunned at how many toddlers I've seen who know how to "work" their parents' phones, or better yet, the number of parents who hand the phone over to the toddler to "keep him/her quiet" and entertained.

From my perspective, late elementary is probably the earliest appropriate age, and that's really only because of the number of businesses and people who don't have landlines anymore (and the absence of pay phones). Keb attends a weekly game tournament. Due to the fact that we don't want to sit there with him for 4-5 hours, he has a phone so that he can call us when he's done. Actually, it's more like we call him. The responsibility piece really isn't there yet. However, before we got him a phone, he used mine, and he never asked for one. It's just not the big thing in our community.

In my mind responsibility is the biggest phone factor. When your child reaches an age where he/she is completely responsible for this item that is or can be quite expensive, is responsible to your rules, and knows where the item is when you ask, then that's the right age.

When I taught 5th grade, a student desperately wanted a cell phone. His parents gave him one of their "dead" phones to carry for a month. If he had it every time they asked and didn't lose it, they would get him a phone. By the end of the year, he'd gone through three dummies. He kept saying it was because it wasn't real, but his parents felt that if he was serious, he would have kept track of his phone. I always liked that idea. It made sense and tested whether it was a want or a need. It also made sure they weren't going to keep paying for that phone.

In my mind, older is better than younger with phones. After all, if you don't know where your elementary school kid is, you have more problems than a phone can solve.

FAMILY MEMBERS WHO LIVE WITH ME
Taed: There are so many good things to list about my husband that it's hard to name just one thing. I guess I should start with he's resourceful. He's loving. He's considerate. He's loyal and dedicated. He wants to be a good dad and husband. He works to make the world a better place.

Keb: :) My off-spring is pretty special. He is sensitive, caring, and considerate. He's smart, talented, and can be very patient. He is extroverted.

MY MOM AND SIBLINGS
Mom: She is very loyal and loving. She will, quite literally, give you the coat off of her bad.

Christine: Incredibly talented, artistic, and charismatic.

Michael: Bright and articulate.

IN-LAWS
Barbara: Frugal, loyal, caring, and careful. She can make any denomination of coin beg for mercy, she pinches it so tight.

Bret & Heidi: Loving, family-oriented, frugal, non-materialistic and athletic

Scott & Mari: Charismatic, funny, playful, and athletic

Larry: Intelligent and senstive

There are many books that bring me to tears -- often for different reasons. Not all have good stories attached to them.

When Keb was at preschool in Ms. Melissa's class, he was "friends" with a young man named Harris. To my knowledge, Harris' dad was a doctor and his mom worked for Intel. When they had come over for Keb's birthday party, I just assumed Harris' dad took pictures.

However, one day Ms. Melissa filled me in. "Did you know Harris' dad wrote a book?" she asked me. I told her no, asked which one and put it on my list of things to do. That Christmas season, I got around to buying it and reading it.

It was HEARTBREAKING. There I was trying to read and exercise at the same time, bawling my eyes out. I was so crushed at what had happened that it affected me the rest of the night. I was so incredibly filled with sorrow for what had happened that it haunted me.

My haunting must have affected Keb too. At school he confronted Mr. Husseini with, "Your book made my Mom cry!" I don't know that Mr. Husseini said anything back, and he and I certainly never talked of it.

Later that year they moved from our area to somewhere in San Jose. Only later did I realize what a big deal his book was. On some level, I guess I should have asked for an autograph. I never did, because I was too embarrassed to approach him at daycare.

People who don't know you, but who know me, are laughing so damned hard they're now crying because there is but one answer for this -- the city.

Why? Well, to a large part because it's NOT the country. I mean, hell, I'm talking to a friend of mine today and, swear to God real life story, she tells me that her friend's dog was eaten by a mountain lion. A FREAKING MOUNTAIN LION. IT ATE HER DOG. IN FRONT OF HER.

Now you might think this dog was out running around, spreading its smell, tempting the wayward mountain lion. That would be wrong. It was with its "Mommy" of 15 years bringing in groceries. Apparently the mountain lion was hanging out in the jungle of junk in the yard and managed to snatch up the poor dachshund.

Apparently not only do mountain lions live there, but so do bears and foxes. Plus there are insects. Lots of insects. Plus, hello, nature.

No, I cannot endure nature for long periods of time. A nice park is good. However, I like paved streets, ready access to junk food, the ability to drive through a liquor store, and a Walgreens handy in case I need whatever.

Living away from the city, whether in the mountains or out in a field somewhere, reminds me way too much of "Little House on the Prairie." What I learned from Laura is to be THANKFUL, fall on your knees and pray to the deity of your choice, for the complete GLORY that is known as civilization. No scary creatures, lack of running water or electricity, annoying bright stars, or need to grow my own food. Not once have I needed to "get away" to the Hamptons or any place else.

In my warped world view, city life is the only life for me.

Just so you know, I'd make a piss-poor Pirate too.

Pinocho de esguello

I find it completely ironic that we espouse to our children that lying is never acceptable, and then we lie to them. In fact, when children do tell the truth (as in, "That lady is really fat.") we admonish them for being mean, cruel or not caring about people's feelings. Obviously we're not about "tell the truth" all the time.

What I've trained my chico on for the second was is, even though you STATED the truth, you weren't asked. Making truthful observations is not always useful, kind or polite. While your sentiment was true, there was no purpose for it. He gets that I expect honesty, but that it can be second to kindness.

The fact is, we all lie. We lie for many reasons: to be kind, to spare feelings, to get out of trouble, to buy us time, to keep from being stuck doing something we don't want to, etc. Most of our lies are ones that spare the feelings of someone else. These are generally acceptable lies. After all, they aren't harmful.

However, people who lie for effect, to win arguments, to make themselves appear (insert positive adjective here), or to weasel out of owning up to something they are responsible for, these people are a pain. These are the people who will get into your face and demand you trust them, then lie about their lies. They are harmful in every manner, and what they breed is worse.

Truthfully, it's never really about the lie. It's about the lack of trust seed that gets sowed every time you lie to someone. Sooner or later, when the weed is huge and overwhelming, the lie comes to light. Their feelings of being duped or being made a fool are the issue, not the lie itself. It's that you didn't trust the person enough to accept what needed to be said.

Lies are tied up in pretty packages with lots of emotional bows. Sometimes they are necessary --like socks and underwear on Hanukkah. Sometimes, however, they conceal emotional pipe bombs that leave the person with shrapnel wounds for life.

Those lies are NEVER okay.

I'm not a warm, cuddly person. In fact, when the little kids from school come up and hug me, I tend to question their judgement. It's like they don't know evil when it's right next to them. That, by the way, is a joke.

Because I'm not all warm, happy, sunshine and smiles, people tend to think that I don't like children. However, I do. I like kids a lot. I find them interesting, smart, savvy, insightful, joyful, and compelling. I'm not crazy about babies, but once a kid is 9 months and doing things, I'm terribly interested in them.

I like to be silly. I enjoy playing. I love reading aloud in different voices, making literature come alive. People don't readily get that because the other side of me is hyper-structured, demanding, and blunt. People think because I expect more from kids that I don't like them.

What's interesting is that the people who don't like kids are the ones who deal with kids who are rude, self-centered, obnoxious, and uncaring. Because I want everyone to know the gift of children, I feel it's my job to train them to have both aspects -- whimsy and structure. You can, you know. Look at an Alexander Calder sculpture and tell me you can't.

If you want to have fun in life, spend some time with a kid. You won't regret it.

I'm an odd one. I stopped eating mammals in the 80s. Occasionally I'll consume some sort of mammal meat -- usually pork, sausage or bacon -- but for the most part I eschew it. Truthfully, I don't enjoy it. I never did. Which is why, when I read "The Hunger Artist" by Franz Kafka, this line stood out to me greatly because it explained the ease with which I could give up meat --something everyone else I knew LOVED:

"Because," said the hunger artist, lifting his head a little and speaking, with his lips pursed, as if for a kiss, right into the overseer's ear, so that no syllable might be lost, "because I couldn't find the food I liked. If I had found it, believe me, I should have made no fuss and stuffed myself like you or anyone else."

Giving up dairy would be miserable for me. It is, for lack of a better term, the life-blood of my diet. I eat yogurt at least once a day, if not two. There are so many amazing types of cheeses to taste, try, consume, and adore that I can't imagine a day without it. And butter -- even that has degrees of amazingness from banal and bland to full, rich, creamy and decadent. It's the starting point to every wonderful dessert, and the finish to sauces.

However, it's my love of ice cream that would make giving up dairy the worst. While I don't care for whipped cream, I love ice cream. Just the thought of the rich concoction melting on my tongue spreading rich saturated flavors throughout my mouth sends shivers down my spine. Can anything be so wonderful as a taste of the right ice cream?

Meat is nothing -- a side dish to life. Dairy, however, is the starting point to everything decadent, wonderful, and interesting in the dietary world.

Sunlight

I suspect that everyone is under the assumption that we are "starting" daylight savings time, rather than turning it "off." However, given that it's not growing light until 7ish in the morning can be problematic as people begin moving around for their jobs. People with any sort of seasonal sunlight disorder (SAD) can find the whole going to work in the dark thing difficult.

The reason I'd love for it to be turned off permanently is that I LIKE getting up at the butt-crack of dawn. It used to be I had the entire glorious month of March to wake up to the sun at 5ish. Since most people have NO REASON to be up at this time, they can't wait for the time shift. That "shift" would be daylight savings.

I have yet to meet too many people who don't prefer being about to be out doing things after work in the summer until almost 9 or 10. That would not happen if the time hadn't been moved.

I say we turn it off this one year and see how many people can live with a 5-8 sunlight summer schedule. Then, after all the bitching and moaning about how we don't "need" the sun that early, we can go back to status quo.

M'K?

Love

I'm generally not thankful for things, I'm thankful for people.

People: Taed, Keb, Mom, friends, family, and colleagues
Things: job, house, health, and health insurance
Non-serious: indoor plumbing, electronics of all kinds (but especially appliances), HVAC, hot water, and fast food

If you have great friends, loving family, and a good job, the rest is gravy. We should all be fortunate to have more than enough. I am blessed with more than enough, and for that, I am thankful.

I'm not an adventurous girl, nor have I ever felt the need to prove myself. Because of this, I've not engaged in any kind of extreme sport (eschewing all regular sport as well).

If I had to pick, though... I would much rather be skydiving than bungee jumping. Sky diving seems serene --seeing the world in a new way. There's something about the eventual float to earth that appeals to me. Sky diving, after the initial jump, seems almost serene.

Bungee jumping, however, looks like something the Spanish perfected during the inquisition. It seems so confining, and the appeared sensation of repeated falling and jerking doesn't appeal to me. I'm quite amazed that the jumper doesn't end up rebounding into the bridge. Something about the up and down, rubber band effect, nauseates me just as a spectator. I can't imagine not becoming physically ill at all.

At my ripe old age, neither of these activities will cross my future landscape. However, if you're looking for a non-experienced recommendation, trust me, sky diving seems to be the way to go.

Unless the chute doesn't open, but that's another story...

Writing in Cursive

One of the quickest ways to announce both your gender and your age is to hand-write almost anything. Yet, I have extreme envy when I witness beautiful cursive. I want that handwriting, the one that says my face and body may never have been lovely, but my written words are.

As a child, I practiced my cursive almost obsessively. It bugs me to this day that I can't make a lower case cursive b. In not being able to, I created my own style -- a mixture of cursive and print, that's uniquely my own.

I admit to enjoying the process of putting pen to paper. I love stationary stores, drooling over paper and pens. Alas, while I buy them, I do not use them as I did before email. I was a huge letter writer in the late 80s and early 90s. Now, even my Christmas letter is "typed".

For notes, however, I still write in cursive. The idea that I would go through the process of calling up a program, to write something short, and then print it out to hand someone seems unnecessarily cumbersome. The right tool for the right circumstances. The same is true of grocery lists -- the are handwritten.

However, as much as I love the process of writing, I admit that the computer holds most of my writing attention. Which is, if you think about it, quite sad. In "real life" we each have our own "font." In the digital world, we are all Times New Roman or Helvetica, or if we're playful, Comic Sans.

It's almost sad how uniform we're all becoming.

Octopus cat is missing a few legs

Whenever there's a Facebook or other email survey wherein I wax poetic about my favorite subject (me), there's usually the question about which season is my favorite. Suffice to say neither summer or winter EVER makes the cut. I'm like the weather version of Goldilocks. I don't like weather unless it's "just right". This, of course, makes the Bay Area the most perfect place on the planet.

Now, I recognize that, were it not for my relationship with Taed, I'd still be living in the Midwest, where extremely cold and extremely hot both take up residence for a larger part of the year than should be allowed. Hell, poor Texas was "blessed" (or punished, where are the Bible-thumpers when you want to prove your own (misguided) theories?) with record heat. When you look at their heat streak, 27 days of 100+ temperatures seems tons better than 98 days -- yet Texas had both.

With that in mind, NO THANK YOU!

I can honestly say, having grown up in Iowa, that I'd rather endure extreme cold than extreme hot. Why? Because, let's be honest, you really cannot take off enough clothes to get cool. You're forced to either suck up the heat or remain indoors. Now, I'm not a nature kind of girl, but I like the "option" of going outside. Being trapped, like a vampire, to dusk and dawn (whose 70* temperatures are comfortable to me) is awful. Plus, I'm kinda "fluffy". My added insulation makes heat just that much worse. Have you ever sweated under your kneecaps? No? Well, it sucks. Plus, I don't have the legs for shorts so I'm covered shoulder to shoe. There's no cooling down when you cover your fluffiness 24/7.

However, with extreme cold comes snow. I automatically don't want to play in it, so being inside is GOOD. There's something lovely about snuggling under a blanket watching TV with the kid or a cat. I have this thing for sweaters (preferred choice of clothing). In short, I can drink something hot, take a warm bath, snuggle up, and avoid the snow and rain.

As such, I think I'm more suited for a life in cold than in warm. My fluffiness makes cold so much more bearable.

The smartest person I know is Taed, my husband. He's not just smart, he's scary smart. He's brilliant, and I'm pretty sure if we "cognitive tested" him, he'd be classified genius. In fact, I'm pretty sure he already was classified "way too smart for his own good."

In looking back and trying to figure out what I've learned from him, I guess the question more is, what haven't I learned? The past 17 years have been pretty good ones. Now, I'm not suggesting we haven't had some issues or times when I've gone off the rails, but by and large, I've learned that a good life doesn't have to be filled with drama.

I've learned I can be a mother. I never imagined that or even wanted it for years. That I am one, and happily so, is pretty amazing. I'm surprised he saw that in me, or if he didn't, was willing to take the chance.

I'm a teacher. I wouldn't be that without Taed. Sure, I had people at Jazzercise talking to me about it, but Taed was the one to push me and make me follow through. He supported each step. He might regret it now, but it made a huge difference in who I was.

I'm more fiscally responsible than ever in my life. I know that's the direct result of being with Taed. He never nagged, per se. He'd just point out the obvious and tell me I was being stupid. Genius that he is, he was always right. I didn't want to hear it, but I did.

Every once in a while, I think you get lucky. I think the universe grants you access to the one person who will make all the difference in the world. Of course, it's up to "you" to see the opportunity and grab it.

Which, in this case, makes me the smartest person I know. Because I was smart enough, just once, to take a leap of faith to be with someone amazing, scary smart, loving, and challenging.

Caution sign

Imagine a young man, full of himself and his skills, taking his girlfriend out for a ride on his new motorcycle. Imagine the girlfriend, already knowing the relationship is strained and who has realized bravado has replaced real skill and knowledge, giving in despite her best interests. There, you will find the perfect storm of an amazing accident.

Approaching a turn, marked as 90 degrees, with a speed limit of 15 miles per hour, the girlfriend suppressed her urge to yank on his jacket. She'd already been reprimanded for "freaking out" and was aware this behavior, in his eyes, would cause them to crash.

She took in the 45 mile per hour speed, as well as the truck which had... well, stopped. How curious that it just stopped on the street, not even at the stop sign. I wonder what they're doing was her last thought prior to going air born.

She landed in a field with a thud that knocked her breath from her body. Suddenly the motorcycle and its rider landed on her left leg, hard, and slid down the embankment. It took her more than a moment or two to realize they had crashed, as she'd feared.

As she tried to take it all in, a man and his children approached. She heard the words, "Are you OK?" but didn't really take them in. He was kind though and yelled at the boyfriend. "Did you realize you could have killed her?" "What were you thinking going so damned fast?" "Didn't you see the sign?"

She realized -- the truck. The truck had stopped because the driver realized her boyfriend was going too fast. He was there for when the crash happened. He was there to make sure someone would be there.

She got up, winced. The man confirmed that the bike landed on her. "You're lucky it's your leg," he told her. "You're actually lucky to be alive given how he took that turn. What were you thinking?"

Indeed.

The boyfriend insisted on driving back to town. Strangely, he wasn't hurt in the accident. The man in the truck looked at his bike and told him it was up to him, but he was giving the girl a ride home. This time, she listened to her instinct. She let a stranger take care of her.

For a month afterwards, she was bruised mid-thigh to mid-calf. Being without a car meant the normally 45-minute walk home from the closest bus stop was longer than an hour. However, with constant use, the pain went away, her gait returned, and the walk was, once again, 45 minutes.

The worst part, though, the really injurious part, was that the boyfriend never apologized or took any blame.

And to think, he had to dump her.