Talk of the Town

Political sacrifice?

Yesterday I heard a story that President Obama is willing to sacrifice his legacy and a second term over the debate on nation’s borrowing limit.  The President reportedly stormed out of the talks saying, “I’ve reached my limit. This may bring my presidency down, but I won’t yield on this.”

I've been thinking about it and wonder if he means it.  It certainly could just be dramatic 'politics as usual' to get him to (and through) the 2012 election.  We've certainly had our fair share of political posturing on both state and national levels over the past few weeks.

My wish is that our leaders would 'lead' instead of factoring in the "I've gotta get re-elected soon" component into the mix.  

If every elected official made the very tough decisions on what was best for reducing our staggering debt (or for fixing Medicare and Social Security etc....take your pick!) instead of getting re-elected, imagine what would be accomplished.  

"I don't care about getting re-elected!"  "I'm willing to sacrifice my political career."

Now THERE are some campaign slogans I can get behind. 

 

For your entertainment

There are occasions when I wish I had a way with the written word.  The gift of gab? Got it, however when a subject is important to me, getting it down in writing is not my strong suit.

Today what will hopefully be the final chapter on the death of little Caylee Anthony has come to pass.  Her mother Casey was found not guilty of her murder, shocking many who have been following the case.  

I haven't been watching this case and don't mean to suggest Caylee's death isn't important.  The death of any child who has not been lovingly cared for makes me physically sick, but that's not my point.  

My point is also not to debate the jury and their verdict. I spent four days on a jury a few years ago and since that time I understand very well that a juror's job is not to decide what THEY think is right or wrong, but to listen to the direction of the judge on the specific questions you are presented.  

I would suspect many of the jurors wanted to lock Casey away forever, but that's not a jurors job.  It's the job of the prosecutors to present the case to the jury so that the jury can answer the questions from the judge with 100% certainty.  If they don't, they are a runaway jury.

But I digress....

What has me uneasy is the way many of us have twisted this girl's death for our entertainment and/or careers.  From multiple magazine covers, to Nancy Grace's nightly 'outrage' and ending with 24 hour coverage -because what ELSE is going on for 'news networks' to cover during the past 36 hours?  

Am I the only person who knows someone who took time away from Fourth of July festivities to check in with CNN?

There have been some jaw-dropping moments for me in preparation for this blog.  While doing a spelling check on Caylee's name I found there was a Caylee Daily website for the latest in "high profile cases."  Not crazy enough for you?  How about strangers camping out overnight to get a seat in the courtroom.  

This isn't a episode of CSI or Law & Order my friends, this is the tragic death of a little girl.  

So please don't tell me to support Caylee by leaving my porch light on, or changing my Facebook status for 24 hours.  If you are really "outraged" by the verdict, please put your money where your mouth is and support with your time and/or treasure the organizations in your town that advocate for the voiceless.  

In Rochester you can start with the United Way or Family Services.

 

 

You don't like red noses either?

In this week's Talk of the Town column I wrote was about my fear of clowns.  It was a topic that had been brewing for some time, but had been hesitant to write about for two reasons.  First, I didn't want to expose my fear.  Also I was worried the clowns of the city would unite and organize.  

Can you imagine being the target of such a mob?

Since the clown-phobia column has run, many folks have written or told me they too have an issue with clowns.  The funny thing about those who have commented to my face is they way they tell me about their fear of clowns.  To a person, each one of them have lowered their voice to say some version of "I read your column and I just have to tell you I don't like clowns either."

That last part is spoken a little more quietly than the rest of the sentence leading me to believe I'm not the only one worried about Bozo retaliation.

Keep yours eyes open my clown-fearing friends.  

Life is dangerous!

 

Decision time

Finding myself at a breaking point this early in the summer vacation has taken the wind out of my sails.  I am enjoying iced tea, coffee, iced mochas and espressos more and more as the weeks have gone by, but don't want to go overboard and end up a caffeine addict.  

The funny part is, I often drink stuff that is partially decaffeinated.

You got that right, its the half-caf stuff that STILL is leaving me craving for more at 9 o'clock at night.

This is the saddest addiction of all!

Thus decision time is upon me.  Am I going to be the woman who controls the caffeine or am I going to become the coffee freak who deals with the busy summer schedule with double shot iced espressos every afternoon at 3pm?

Maybe it would be best not to make this decision while Jonesin' for an espresso...

Keep it covered

Dear Dude,

What a beautiful day we are both enjoying.  The sunshine is bright, but not so strong that it saps your will.  The breeze is gentle and the birds are singing a beautiful song.  No doubt about it, it's a beautiful day to be alive.

I don't know you, yet here we are sharing a moment.   On the way home from some appointments downtown I took the 'long' way home to take in the sights of scenic Silver Lake.  There you are out for a run, dodging the geese but still making good time.  You seem to be enjoying your afternoon as well.  

There is a problem though Dude.  You appear to have forgotten your shirt when you left home today.  I know it must feel good to enjoy the sun on your back but Dude, I don't want to see it.  Nor do I want to insult you by scowling at you when you glance at me while we wait at the stop sign.  I appreciate that even though you appear to be the most fit 38 year old I've seen all day, it really would be better if you were to throw a shirt that said "I'm 38 and look great under this shirt."

There may be some unwritten 'girl rule' I don't know about that applies here, but in my book unless you are under the age of 25 and/or spend at least three hours a day lifting weights, you should have a shirt on at all times in public.

Thank you in advance for treating yourself to a moisture wicking tank top or t-shirt before your next run.  If we can work together to address this matter, I'm sure we'll all have a more enjoyable summer.

Sincerely,

Mini-van mom

The power of a sandwich

Earlier today a slight shift occurred along the tectonic plates in our family.  Unlike an earthquake, I didn't even feel it happen until later in the day.

It was lunchtime and like most work-from-home moms I tried to do a few items on the to-do list before making a sandwich for our six year old son.  In the few minutes it took to complete the items, my son was busy.  I walked into the kitchen to find him eating a sandwich he had made.  "Cool!" I thought.  "This will make things a lot easier on some of those busy days."  I poured a glass of milk and handed him a few carrots.

It wasn't until later in the day that I realized what had actually happened.  For the first time since our daughter was born nine years ago, I was not needed at mealtime.  Sure they still need me to purchase the groceries for them, but I take this as a major mark on my historic time line of motherhood.

Behold the power of a lowly PB&J!

 

 

Before I forget...

Although it seems the school year will never be over, I might just end up running out of time if I don't take care of this item on my 'to do list' right now.  Every school day, no matter which school I am driving past during my travels, I give a little smile and think to my self, "I am SO glad you are there."

I'm talking about the crossing guards.  Morning, noon and evening there they are in the weather that is sunny or rainy, hot or cold, fair or windy; making sure the kids get to where they need to be.   

When I see the crossing guards I am always impressed with the amount of dedication and care they display to be at 'their crossing' even for a little while every day.

You probably think we don't notice or don't appreciate you, but I think you are one of the best examples of what we can do for our kids and their education.  So before the school year is over and I've gone another month without saying it, THANKS for what you do!

Anyone else?  Who do you need to thank?

Iced me

As Paul Harvey used to say, "Here's a strange."

After a winter we never thought was going to end, feeling the heat over the past two days has been a nice change of pace.  One of the pleasures of the change in the seasons is not only do we get to ditch the turtlenecks for sandals, but we also get reacquainted with our old friend ice tea.  

Like many relationships, sometimes I get a little carried away when getting back together with an old friend.  This was the case today when I stopped for my first 'official' iced tea of the season.  "Make it a large" I told the gal at the register.  Three slices of lemon and two cups of ice later I was REALLY happy.

That tea was so delicious and made me so happy I decided to start my afternoon off the same way.  

"The large please" I told the barista.  Ahhh heaven.

The only thing that kept me from stopping for a third glass on the way home was the realization that if I wasn't careful, I'd be staring wide eyed at the ceiling of my bedroom at three in the morning, fully caffeinated to the gills.

Here's the strange part; many were the days this winter when I felt like nursing a full pot of coffee.  For some reason, there was a little angel sitting on my shoulder urging me not to cave in to my coffee craving.  However, when it comes to iced tea I'm pulling out all the stops and considering an ice cream bucket sized cup for the afternoon of errands ahead of me without even a nudge at my conscience.

Apparently my internal guilt/indulgence meter shuts down when it comes to coffee, but doesn't have a problem with iced tea.  

Pass the lemon wedges and keep the ice bucket full; it's almost summer time!

 

 

Not one family

Last week I read a story that I can't seem to shake.  

Through the joy of a weeknight dinner out with friends, a Saturday full of errands and lists and a beautiful Mother's Day celebration, it was there in the back of my mind.  

It is the story of the Hilowle family and the swastika and "KKK" spray painted on the side of their home.  The Hilowle's and their six children have lived in Rochester since 2004, but have lived in America for 15 years.  Sometime last fall the harassment began with a few isolated events, but it's the ugly message spray painted on their home that brought their story to our attention.

One of the Hilowle kids is a classmate of my daughter.  He is a kind and extremely polite boy I have had the pleasure of getting to know in the classroom.  Once I found out this was his home, my emotions seem to be getting the best of me.  

I keep thinking about how I would feel if this happened to my family.  Would I feel secure in letting my kids leave the home?  Would I want to stay in the home?  If it happened to my neighbors, what could I do to help them?

I also keep worrying about my daughter's classmate.  I can't imagine how he might be handling this situation.

The logical side of my brain tells me this harasser is just one hate-filled soul and surely the Hilowle family knows that the majority of people do not feel this way.

They know that, right?

In case they don't, I want to tell them I am sorry they are being targeted this way.  I am angry that someone thinks it OK to treat their fellow human being this way.  I am hopeful this person- or God forbid people- will be stopped and punished. 

I am also hopeful the Hilowle family will once again feel safe in their home.

Not one family should be treated this way in our town.

 

Mission accomplished?

In the 15 hours that have passed since we learned Osama Bin Laden had been taken out, a lot of thoughts flashed through my mind.  I was grateful to the Seals who found him and for the fact that the search was over.  I was scared that this might bring about a new wave of threats or acts of terror by his followers.  Also, I was sad thinking back to that day in 2001 when everything changed.  

I would imagine many felt some of these same sentiments.

Today the morning news programs provided the latest information including video of people celebrating on the streets of New York.  I was reminded of the images of people celebrating in the Middle East following the September 11th bombings.  "Why do they hate us," we wondered?  What is there to celebrate in the loss of 3,000 innocent lives?

But yet here we are, in what you might arguably call the "same shoes."

Don't we have a right to celebrate?  I can't say for sure.  I understand the sentiment, but something about watching these joyful displays just doesn't feel right to me.  

The mission may be accomplished, but our loss is not diminished and the threat may not be over.

What do you think?

Keys to happiness

Standing outside your vehicle and staring at the keys as they lay safely locked IN your vehicle is an image that makes my heart beat fast.  I've never thought of myself as having any obsessive compulsive issues, but when it comes to my car keys, I do get a little...weird, I guess you'd say.

This morning a friend called to ask for some help as her keys were mocking her from the front seat of her locked SUV.  It's not like it's the end of the world, but dang does it put a stop to a good day!

For some reason, when it comes to my keys, my attention span shortens to that of a four year old after a triple espresso.  I take them out of the ignition and put them in the 'key pocket' of my purse.  Then I go to get out of the car, but before I do, I double check; are they in the purse pocket?  

Of course they are, I just put them there 5 seconds ago!

Then I get out of the vehicle and lock the doors with the toggle switch in the car.  After walking four steps away from the car, I reach into my purse and push the 'lock' button.  At this point I could turn around and see the locks are already in the down position, but for some reason I have to hear the horn 'chirp' from the key fob as some sort of auditory affirmation that my car is safe.

Ridiculous.  

It's not like my mini-van is full of a shipment of gold bars.  If anyone were to break into my car, they would be welcome to take as much elementary school kid crap that is scattered from the front bumper to the back.  

I might come out on the winning end of that deal.