Completely and Utterly Boned

This is one of those times that I HATE having a pseudonymous blog -- I have a situation that I'm dying to discuss with you all, and hash out in the smallest of details, but if I do choose to talk about it, I have to be so vague and non-specific about everything that I end up sounding like either a) a bad philosophy student, or b) stoned out of my gourd.

I'll give it a shot, nonetheless.

I have a personal situation brewing right now that is going to be bad, no matter how you slice it. Feelings are going to be hurt, people will feel betrayed, and friendships will end. I can see this all ahead very clearly, but am powerless to stop it, or even to minimize the impact. Sort of how time seems to slow down when you're in a collision -- you can't avoid it, and you can't help but see it as almost a dispassionate observer.

What makes matters worse, however, is that I've been asked to take charge of the situation. To helm the sinking ship, as it were. I can't do it because of time constraints anyway, but to be asked to take something that's broken and bleeding and FIX it? And to be asked by some of the people that broke it in the first place?

It would be a hard enough job to do on its own, much less while trying to mend the damage, soothe injured spirits and feelings, and bring all of the parties left standing back together as a cohesive whole. I can't do it. Not only because I have too much already demanding my time, but also because I think that there just might not be healing to be had from some of this.

All I can say is: you are a poor friend when you only look out for number one. If you aren't willing to give a hand to people you SAY you care about, then you don't deserve their friendship.

Paging Dr. Freud

Some of you might already know that I'm preparing for some oral surgery on Monday. Nothing too extreme, but I have an impacted wisdom tooth that's got to come out, and I wanted to get it done and over with before I had to report back to school. It wouldn't be good to start off the year with a requesting a couple of sick days.

I'm a little freaked out about surgery, but this will be the second time I've had this procedure, so it's not quite so scary. I remember thinking last time, just before the drugs kicked in..."I *really* don't want to do this!" But, in no time at all, it was over and I had cheeks that looked like a bad Marlon Brando "Godfather" impersonator. But, then again, I remember thinking the exact same thought as Offspring's head was crowning during birth. "I REALLY don't want to do this!!!" Funny how passing a bowling ball-sized object through a drinking straw-sized portion of your anatomy can play havoc with your emotions.

But, with the worry of impending surgery, I've been having a sort-of recurring dream that I've had for many years: the losing of the teeth. Now, when I say "losing of the teeth", I mean not just losing a tooth here and there, but very VIVID dreams of doing normal activity and suddenly every single tooth in my head falls out. Fine one minute, and the next: poof! Toothless crone.

The details differ from dream to dream, but the ultimate outcome is that I end up with no teeth in one fell swoop. In one dream, I remember getting up like normal, and heading to the bathroom to brush my teeth, and having the toothbrush knock out a tooth or two, and the rest following like dominoes. So, there I am, with toothpaste dripping down my chin and a heap of what look like white Chiclets filling up my palm.

Other variations involve me thinking a tooth is loose, and going to push on it with a finger, and having that tooth and all the rest fall out into the sink. Or, the one where I bite into a crisp apple, and draw back, only to find all the teeth are stuck in said apple. Or the one where I'm just suddenly able to spit teeth into my palm like you'd spit out watermelon seeds.

Crazy, right? Back away slowly, people.

I know Freudian Dream Analysis would say that I'm vain and worried about the loss of my beauty, but since I feel like you can't really lose what you never had, that's not so much of an option. (And, yes -- I DO have self-esteem issues, but this isn't so much a dig at myself as it is a sad fact. It's not like I was going to be on the cover of any magazines any time soon. Anyway...)

I even talked to a guy who had a "dream analysis" blog. Apparently, it's a pretty common dream, and it could also relate to your sense of confidence, and how others see you. I mean, a nice smile (or a not-so-nice one) is something most people notice right off the bat. So, if you lose all your teeth, you might be embarrassed to face people, and your confidence would take a hit. Or, it may convey a sense of powerlessness -- you may feel that things are out of your control, or that your voice isn't being heard.

Whatever the root cause is, come Monday, I will be one tooth less. Maybe I should talk to the dentist now about a set of dentures -- sort of a preemptive strike. Best to be prepared, just in case.

Migraines Suck!

As if many of you didn't know already, I am here to inform you of the vast suckitutde of migraine headaches. Never say I'm not informative.

I've been on migraine medication for about two months now; stuff that was SUPPOSED to not only lessen the severity of my migraines, but also to lessen the frequency of said migraines. I am here to formally call bullshit on the severity aspect. Any time you can vomit on yourself and not really give a damn because your brain is threatening to explode, I don't think you can chalk that one in the "less severe" column.

Also, this medication was supposed to free me from the cares and worries of migraine headaches, and it hasn't done that, either. Damn those lying advertising people! I would say "heads will roll!" at this point, but I think my own head did enough of that last night, and I really don't wish it on anyone else. Even to the people I dislike intensely.

What In Hell Made Me Think I Could Do This?!?!

School (college) starts on Monday. I have spent the latter part of this week getting ready for the start of Summer Term. School (elementary school) ended on Wednesday, and since then, I have had to focus away from my full-time job, and onto my soon-to-be-starting school (college.)

Yesterday, I had to go downtown to the main administrative building to get my student ID, even though I will be taking an online class. The reason that I went ahead and got the student ID was so that I could get into various buildings, should I need them, like the library, and the student center. I also took my husband to lunch, and then we went to pick up my textbooks and some of the supplies. My God, I had forgotten how freaking expensive college is! Thank God I had some of the necessary supplies here at home, or I'd be in deep doo-doo.

This morning, I finished up my online orientation, and the requisite assignments that that entailed, and printed out the 10-week syllabus. I looked over the first lesson, and went ahead and read the first 3 chapters in the textbook. My overwhelming thought now, is "what in hell have you gotten yourself into? Don't you know you're pushing 40? It's not like you're a coed who can cram all night and still function like a living human being during class during the day!" A good bet for your entertainment for the next 10 weeks would be to stay tuned and watch me self-flagellate daily. That, or spontaneously combust. Oy.

Switching Teams

I just read the amazing news that Senator Arlen Specter has switched his allegiance from the Republican to the Democratic party. His reasons for the move, he says, were due to increasing disagreement with viewpoints within his own party. Specter also said that he thought he would find it hard to be reelected, what with all the conservatives that are making up the Republican party these days.

What I find most stunning of all, though, was the quote from Republican Senate Party Leader Mitch McConnell. His opinion on the matter? He said, "... the switch posed a 'threat to the country', and "really relates to ... whether or not in the United States of America our people want the majority party to have whatever it wants, without restraint, without a check or balance."

Huh? You mean like what America has suffered under Bush for the last eight years? Including a war that's killing thousands of American lives and costing a mint -- the war that no one WANTS, and that most of the rest of the world's nations condemn us for? Or, maybe you meant floating asinine home loans to every Tom, Dick, and under-qualified Harry in the lower 48? The loans that caused our economy to go "BOOM!" and necessitate an astronomical bailout so company bigwigs can keep their golden parachutes while John Q. Public and his family try to make ends meet with less and just PRAY they don't get sick because they no longer have any health insurance? Man, that would just suck, wouldn't it?

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You know, generally, I'm not a political person. I tend to think most politicians are a bunch of snake-oil salesmen. But, I think we Americans suffered a lot under the tenure of the last eight years' administration, and I'm praying we can paper-clip, rubber band, and chewing gum our proud nation back together. I hold no ill will towards anyone who might be of a Republican bent, or any other persuasion. I have Republican friends and family members who feel very much in the minority these days. It's not so much about dissing you Republicans, and your core values, because most "more liberal" people have them, too. But, it IS time for another generation to have a shot at running the whole ball of wax. And it's okay that it's not just another WASP-y white guy whom most of the nation feels disenfranchised with. We need someone who believes that it's okay if gay people want to be married, or to provide health care for those who are sorely in need of it. Someone who helps pull our economy out of the toilet. Someone who understands that taxing the poor people the MOST, while taxing the wealthy the LEAST make *no sense whatsover.* Someone who can make America a good friend at the world's table again. We certainly need it.

Should I?

Or, alternately titled: "My Husband Reserves the Right To Say 'I Told You So.'"

I got an interesting proposition that I want to share with you, and in turn, pick your collective brains about. Most of you who've been reading my blog for a while know that I spent 6 years as a Girl Scout Leader. For anyone other than those three loyal, longtime readers, I spent 6 years as a Girl Scout Leader. My troop went kaflooey in a rather spectacular manner two years ago. It was all a lot of histrionic, middle-school bull that got drawn WAAAY out of proportion, with my family cast as the villains. This was, in no way, close to actual fact. My troop folded, and I've continued volunteering as an adult with my local area, and as a parent in the troop I asked for my daughter to be placed in.

At our adult meeting Tuesday evening, I was approached by someone at our local office who told me that there is tremendous interest for a Daisy troop at my school. Daisies are the youngest level of Scouting, the kindergarten (and now, since the big age-level reorganization) first grade girls. Since, this is the age I teach, and at the very school where most of the interest lies, I was approached as possible leadership for this troop.

Now, there are plenty of pros and cons.

Pros:
*I could ease back into leadership this way.
*I already have a possible co-leader lined up.
*It would be very convenient for me, personally, to meet at my workplace.
*It's an age that I'm VERY familiar with, and so is my potential co-leader.
*There are a lot less "woes" working with the younger girls -- pretty much everyone is happy to be part of the program, and there's not the middle-school attitude to contend with.
*My Girl Scouting mentor did Daisy leadership for YEARS, so I have a good source of ideas and tips at the ready.
*I've been a leader for years, so it's not like it would be ALL new to me.
*Daisies is a two-year program, and I have the option to stay where I am, and have the girls move on without me. This would mean new blood every two years at the most.
*Daisies is a more hands-on, crafting, having fun version of Scouting than some of the other levels, where it's go-go-go all the time.
*My principal has given permission to have meetings in our school buildings. (You would not believe how many schools/principals *don't* allow this!) This is already one dilemma off my back.
*Offspring could help me out occasionally, and could even earn her Program Aide status this way.

Cons:
*Parents. You can never predict if you're gonna get the good ones, or the bad ones.
*Still a possibility for not-so-likeable girls, but possibilities for those are lower the younger the girls are.
*Taking over a leadership role would mean more time away from my family, and more training classes.
*Paperwork out the wazoo, on top of the paperwork that I already keep track of for my local area.
*Cookies. It's a hassle when it's my own daughter, but they're letting Daisies sell cookies this year.
*If I decide to do it, can I get it up and rolling before the new year? If I can't, should we still sell cookies? The order-taking starts in January, so it would be cutting it close.
*It's a lot of work, and can be physically exhausting.
*If I don't do it, these girls probably won't get placed until late spring, at the earliest. A more realistic expectation would be that we lose them entirely, because we have no one willing to step up into the leadership role. I would hate for that to happen.
*Little to no parental help is a distinct possibility. Since we work in an economically disadvantaged school, we are more likely to have parents who either cannot afford to help, or just plain don't want to help. This may mean more personal, out-of-pocket expenses for me. Though, I do not mind doing that AT ALL if the girls benefit.

So, what do you think? Should I take the plunge?I had a lot of heartache with my old troop, but they were much older, and all awash with tween angst and hormones galore. There's no guarantees that there would be a repeat of last time, but there's also nothing to indicate that they'll be angels, either. Anytime you undertake a venture like this, you run the risk of having it all not turn out anything like you planned. But, I think with a good friend who has my back as co-leader; and with girls I'm most likely familiar with already -- maybe it wouldn't be a total disaster.

Am I mental for even considering it? I liked being a leader. I liked teaching girls all about the program, and watching them grow stronger within themselves with the good foundation that Scouting gives them. I like watching them learn, and knowing that I helped them. I did not like all the drama and hurt feelings with my last troop. I really disliked having my daughter exposed to all that: drama, hurt feelings, and maligned and slandered parents. It was almost worse for her, because she not only lost her troop, but she lost her innocence with Scouting as well. She saw people for the manipulative sneaks that they were, and at the cost of her parents' reputations. And it was not pretty.

Should I expose myself, and my family, to all of that again? Is it worth it?

So It Begins

You know, I knew there was always going to be a section of the populace that was going to be unhappy, no matter which way the election turned out. Obama supporters would have been outraged at the thought that America was still stuck in the Dark Ages where a black man wasn't fit to run the nation, and subject to four more years of George Bush-style foreign policy and tanking economy; and McCain supporters are all up in arms, declaring that America is now headed by a "terrorist" and that we're all going to hell in a Muslim handbasket.

I live in a red state. And, not just a *red* red state -- my state is so red that it makes scarlet look like pink. Most of the counties in my state went for McCain. Here and there, there were pockets of seditious blue, but McCain carried my state quite handily. I never really thought Obama would actually WIN the state, but I thought he might do fairly well in large metropolitan areas. This proved so in a few cases, and not everyone was happy about it.

Two guys planned to go on a spree, killing African Americans and culminating in an Obama assassination attempt, all while wearing white tuxedos and top hats? Yeah, this is a real *sensible* way to state that you're a mite unhappy with a black president. Instead of discussing ways to get involved with your community and help make a difference, we'll just kill the guy we don't like because he's different. When has it become an option that *murder* is a viable means of expressing your discontent?

There's also a story that's been circulating, not only in this part of the country, but I happened to see it mentioned on the Daily Kos as well. It seems that a small town pediatrician sent an email to her staff -- she was very unhappy with what she saw as their lack of a proper work ethic -- but in it, she calls Obama "evil incarnate." Man, I didn't know he was THAT powerful as to be the living embodiment of the forces of darkness.

What in hell is *WRONG* with people?!? I mean, I'll admit I wasn't all totally gung-ho about some of Obama's policies and past associations, but I would have not been happy with a McCain assassination plan, either. Marni had a great philosophy that she told her daughter: "I told Bug that we may/may not like who was elected, but we have to look at the bigger picture. He IS our President and we should support him no matter what. We may/may not agree with what he wants to do, but we are all Americans and he is now the leader of this country."

That's the kind of stuff we need. We need people who are willing to go on, and accept change, even though it may not be what you want, and even though it may not have been what you would have chosen for yourself. I'm not saying that you have to become a fan overnight, but at least give the man a chance.

Labels

It is the human condition to want to label things. To pigeonhole life into something that we can categorize and understand. And, for the most part, that makes sense. It's a skill you learn early, like how to sort toys, and how all the socks go in one specific drawer. Learning your colors is visual labeling in action-- grass is green, the sky is blue, and the sun is yellow. God's coloring book.

It becomes less sensible when you're talking about people, however. There is the tendency to label people, because that's an easy way to keep track of who is whom in this constant stream of faces that pass before you daily. "Oh, you know who I'm talking about! She's that tall black woman who has the piercing in her nose!" While we don't consciously intend to insult the person we're describing, it does seem sort of callous to codify our mystery lady solely by race, or height, or by what we might think of as her "exotic" jewelry.

Some labels are just darn hurtful: spic, lesbo, retard. Why should ethnicity, sexual orientation, or physical or mental infirmity carry any weight when we think of people? It shouldn't, and yet it does; quite often, in fact. I know I'm even guilty of it, and it's usually innocuous, but that doesn't make it hurt any less. I know that I'm often hurt deeply by the label "fat." It doesn't make it any less true, but it's a hurtful designation. I can imagine that it's also very painful to Latinos, lesbians, and the mentally handicapped. Small wonder.

We even label ourselves. Most of you reading this would happily add "blogger" to your life's CV. We pin on other labels as well: wife, uncle, mother, son, friend, teacher, pharmacist, human. It's the easy way out. We can group other people in with us -- with our likes and hobbies -- with barely a flutter of recognition that we may be putting a limit on what makes us who we are.

We are all so much more than the individual parts. I know that I would not be fully happy with only one label to my name. Is being a daughter more important than being a mother? Is being a wife not as important, somehow just *less*, than being a teacher? Why do we place such emphasis on ways to pin down who and what we are? When will we ever learn to appreciate each other for our diversity and unique talents instead of deriding them? It's far too cliche to say "Can't we all just get along?", but that's essentially what it boils down to. The human race is so competitive that we can rarely ever cheer on the 'other guy' without seeking to devalue him by placing a designation on him. And today, I just find that sad.

Still Winner And Champeen!

22

22? Psh! That's *breakfast!* I take on five year olds every day! Now, my number might go down if we were talking fifth graders -- those kids can get pretty darn big!

I had to laugh when I saw this at Amy's site, and knew that I'd rock this quiz. I also laughed further when one of the questions asked if I would feel bad were I to use a child as a weapon -- heck, no! The ankle biters are out for blood, don't you know? Get your licks in where you can, people! If they smell blood, you're toast!

Ponderables

I read a book recently that dealt with some issues that made me think quite a bit. In the story, a young woman is trying very had to get pregnant, and is not succeeding. She and her husband have gone through several rounds of fertility drugs and IUI, but still no baby. One night, her husband gets a phone call that his high school/early college girlfriend has died, leaving behind a ten year old son whom he never even knew about. The child is in the care of Child Services, and there's all kinds of testing to be done to make sure that child is his, and then easing himself into the boy's life slowly.

First off, the infertility. I was blessed to become pregnant with Offspring very quickly. We had decided that we wanted a child, and I had discontinued any kind of contraception in hopes that we'd become pregnant within a short time span. I was actually surprised when barely three months after starting, I discovered that I was 5 weeks pregnant. (Killer heartburn was the tipoff. A friend who'd recently delivered urged me to do a home pregnancy test based on HER heartburn during her pregnancy. Turns out that she was right.) I know how lucky I was to get pregnant, right off the bat. I, thank God, did not have to endure all kinds of probings and testings and medical indignities in order to have my baby. I feel a lot of empathy for those who DO have to go this route. My best friend endured years of infertility treatments, and suffered several miscarriages in the process.

The woman in the story felt very inadequate because she felt that her body could not do what it was designed to do -- that women for centuries had been getting pregnant at the drop of a hat, and she couldn't. While I don't have that particular experience, I do often feel betrayed by my own body when I can't get it to do what I want it to do. So, I do feel a sort of empathy, though I obviously do not know the pain of infertility. I can also imagine a woman wanting so desperately to be pregnant that she has a deep, visceral longing for a baby every time she sees one in public. I remember feeling so envious of every pregnant woman I saw when I was contemplating quitting my birth control, so I can only imagine how torturous it would be for a woman who is unable to conceive.

I'm also very grateful that I was disgustingly healthy while pregnant. I lost weight, for the first time in my life; I ate better, and I got more rest and exercise; and I didn't even need to take the prenatal vitamins that the doctor prescribed.

As for the child, I have a hard time thinking that someone would not tell the other parent of the existence of a child. To just not tell someone that they have created a life? I know that there are lots of men out there who propagate with abandon, and who would have no intention of taking care of any child that they sired, but to just NOT tell someone at all? It's one thing if you don't make an effort to stay in contact with a deadbeat parent, or if they want nothing to do with the child at all to begin with, but to never notify them that you're pregnant? I have a hard time with this. Of course, I would like to think that I have ethics. Not all people are saddled with them.

Once the wife discovers the existence of the child, she withdraws both emotionally and physically from the husband. She puts her husband and his son on the back burner, as well as her hopes for a child of her own, and goes back to work. Once there, she meets a colleague that she becomes very attracted to, very quickly. She begins spending a lot of time with the man, and begins investing all of her pent-up emotions into this man, and very nearly has an affair with him before she comes to her senses.

So, infidelity. That's one of my personal cardinal rule-breakers. JF and I discussed this while we were dating, and we both felt that making vows was a forever thing. The vows we made were to cleave only unto each other, and we felt that if we could get up in front of God and promise that, we should bloody well keep that promise. Now, I try not to judge other people, and while I wouldn't condemn anyone who was unfaithful to their spouse or partner, it's not for me. Granted, I can understand how people can turn to other partners when they're married to an awful person -- I have a friend in this situation. I just would feel betrayed.

Sorry for the long, rambling post, but these were things that were on my mind today. What about you all? How do you feel about the three issues here: infertility, infidelity, and telling the other party involved when becoming pregnant?

We Put The "Fun" in "Dysfunction"

Ah, my family. If they were any odder, "Cops" would camp out on our lawns.

JF, Offspring, and I traveled for the last few days to CityOfMyBirth to see my grandmother, father, and uncle. My grandmother, who is 88, is looking better than the last time I saw her. She is looking visibly older, but for Pete's sake, she's 88! The last time we visited, she'd had a heart attack not too long before, and had fallen, breaking her leg and damaging her hip. At the time, she was feeling very fragile, and was depressed with her medical state. This trip, she was much more her feisty self, and spent a lot of the time sniping back and forth with my father. (Just as an aside, can I add here that I *love* seeing my father be on the receiving end of that conflict? I'm used to having all the invective and barbed comments flying in my direction, and it's refreshing to see that he gets smacked down by his own mother every once in a while.)

My father tooled us around town, taking Offspring and JF to ride go-karts and play Laser Tag. He would have taken us to the Zoo, but their hours at this time of the year are very short, and we didn't want to have to rush, rush, rush. Plus, the weather was grey, with the chance of dropping lots of rain at a moment's notice.

Some things I learned about other members of my family over this holiday season:

*That cousin of mine that got married back in October -- three months ago? Already in marriage counseling. Yeah, that was my reaction, too. Apparently, their counselor said that they're the "smartest couple she'd ever seen" because they were getting help early. No -- if they were the smartest couple she'd ever seen, they would not have needed her services.

*Another cousin of mine missed the Thanksgiving part of the holiday because he was in jail. He and his (now ex-) wife were splitting, and she had a restraining order out on hi, which he violated. Therefore, he was a guest of the county for a while.

*My father couldn't let the holiday season go by without making at least one disparaging comment on my weight, though my mother actually managed to say encouraging things this year, rather than hurtful ones!

Other happenings:

*I made little gift bags for all of my coworkers, and passed them out the day we got out for the holidays. Inside was a hand-decorated glass ornament, and a decorated bag of candies. Most everyone oohed and ahhed over them, and I was told several times that I was "sickening", and that my crafting habits are "scary" and even "unholy."

*Juggling Freak's chemical burn is nastily red still, and is being very slow to heal. We finally doctored him with some ointment and gauze pads, and at least he can now walk around without his hand permanently on his hip, or without his side adhering to his shirt, necessitating opening the wound every time he takes off his shirt.

*I have to go back to school on Wednesday, and I really don't want to. Having all this time off makes me lazy. Well, lazier than normal. I just want to hole up in the warm bed and read all my new books! Or, go into my craft room, and play with all my new stuff!

*I totally suck as a pen pal/online friend these days. CCW felt sorry for me because we could never get my cookie swap idea off the ground, so she made me this nice big box of delicious goodies, and while I made her one batch of Crunch Bars that first weekend, I haven't gotten anything further done towards sending her a box back. Like I said, I suck. Maybe I can get my crap together tomorrow and do some baking.

*In addition to that, I also owe boxes to two other online friends, and I've yet to get off my duff about either of those. Sorry, guys. All I can say is, I suck!

The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year

It is now officially December, and I will readily admit that this is my very favorite part of the year. I love the festive atmosphere of the holidays, and all of the things we do together as a family. Some (though not all, by any means) people tend to be nicer to deal with during the holidays, and have a cheerier outlook. Juggling Freak *absolutely refuses* to put the tree up before December 1st, but once that first day rolls around, I can usually cajole him out of his curmudgeonly anti-Christmas mood.

I love to sit in our darkened living room and just bask in the glow of the lighted Christmas tree. The lights twinkling merrily just give me a feeling of calm and happiness. The house is warm, and smelling of good things to eat; my family is tucked into their beds, and my cat dozes contentedly on the bright quilt laid over the sofa.

I got up this morning to clean out the corner area where our tree will go. We'll put up the tree tomorrow, carefully hanging our favorite ornaments in places of pride upon its' green boughs. JF will put the tree together, and string the lights. Offspring will find all those infinitely precious things she made in kindergarten and first grade, making sure they're on the front of the tree, where we can see them at once. I will find all the penguin ornaments, and my favorite brass Queen Elizabeth I, and find them their own special areas. We'll joke as we work, maybe even playing Christmas carols if I can convince Juggling Freak to overcome his aversion to them. Maybe we'll play a Christmas-themed movie on the TV as we work. Afterward, we'll place the presents that are already purchased and wrapped under the tree, on top of the felt penguin tree skirt I made a few years ago and step back to admire our handiwork.

Remember?

Remember the days when you woke up, and the world was laid bare before you, full of promise? When each new day was an adventure to be hurtled into completely, and without forethought? Remember when you couldn't fall asleep for the anxiety, the wanting of the new day to begin?

Remember when you felt young and bullet-proof? Like nothing could possibly stop you from conquering the world? Like your star would burn bright for all time, and that you could almost burn up from the radiance?

I've lost that feeling lately, and I don't know how to get it back. I used to be this absurdly happy, pie-in-the-sky, Pollyanna-ish, disgustingly chipper person, and it's somehow gone. I don't know when I lost it, or why. I just look in the mirror, and know that I'm not happy with me anymore.

My life is great -- don't get me wrong -- I have a great family, a job that I feel blessed to do, and talents that many others express desire for, but something is not right with me. It's not depression, it's not dissatisfaction. It's just this hole where I once was. Where did I go?

Ammunition for the Clue Stick Brigade

If you're a fan of the illustrious Wednesday Whine (and how could you NOT be?), you may have heard that the denizens there prefer our justice served with a healthy serving of freshly sawn lumber. This is mainly for those in *serious need* of the judicious application of a good two-by-four upside the head, so don't let me scare any interested parties off. Wednesday Whine has typically been a place where we go to let off some steam, and have a forum in which we can gripe, knowing that there are people there who support us, and who do not mind listening to all of the things, great and small, which are plaguing our everyday lives.

One of the products of the weekly WW has been our claim that there are many, many people who are in dire need of the clue-by-four whomping. This week's column involved a suggestion that we form a precision drill team to administer our smackdowns. Said suggestion was met with much agreement all around.

I have a select group of (unfortunately nameless) people that I would like to offer up as fodder for the Clue Stick Brigade: the dad-blamed idjits who thought up using *METAL* as an effective material for the making of colanders. A colander, as we all know, is a straining device, mostly used (in this household, at least) for draining pasta. Which, you know, boils?! Therefore, the pasta is going to be HOT at the point of draining, and said colander will become too hot to pick up for any reasonable amount of time. Yes, you can use oven mitts, and your can rinse the pasta, but that's not the point. Metal is what the pot you likely *just cooked* the pasta in was made out of, and you're going to transfer all of that boiling hot, napalm-sticky pasta to ANOTHER metal container? Not a smooth move for those of us who have already established ourselves as clumsy.

Not that this has happened to me, you know. I'm far too graceful to burn myself with pasta, right? (Hush all that snickering!)

Summer's End

The rain has kept the sun worshippers from their daily rituals for the better part of this past week. The touristy shops along the beach roads begin to close earlier and earlier, and the seasonal ice cream shop sports new winter shutters.

The intermittent rain brings needed relief for the parched earth. The lower temperatures allow the pale denizens to finally emerge from their cool, shady homes. Their faces upturned to the roiling sky, the cloistered ones breathe air not cooled and recirculated by machine for the first time in weeks.

The stores are full of parents stocking up on supplies for school. Two young, first grade-age girls argue the various merits of the lunch boxes: Hannah Montana, High School Musical, or Bratz? The shoppers move through the aisles, denuding the shelves as a high wind would strip leaves from the trees. Like a plague of locusts they come, laying bare the store's metal skeleton.

The large tan SUV moves swiftly into traffic, a pair of lurid fuchsia flip-flops miraculously clinging to the rear bumper with the tenacity of barnacles. The streets are surprisingly empty for a holiday. The city hunkers back down for more rain.

As night blankets the wet city, lights wink out earlier than normal in preparation for the morning's new beginning.