Memories

Imagine if you will, Ms. Streisand serenading us with that tune as you read this. And yes, I cruelly put that song in your head in hopes that it would get unstuck out of mine. So far, no luck.

Moving on. On the eve of Thanksgiving, a true "American" holiday I have decided to veer into two personal stories—my best and worst Thanksgivings. So sit back, pull up a plate of your pie of choice and enjoy.

Worst

The year was 1994. I was in my senior year of college, about two weeks from concluding a semester abroad. I had used some free travel time during my journey to visit friends in Helsinki, Finland. While there, they recommended a very modestly priced "cruise" to St. Petersburg, Russia. The night the ship was returning to Helsinki, there was a major storm. The sea was angry that night, my friend. Broad was tossed about on her wee bunk. At some point I stumbled to the miniscule bathroom and passed out with my head in the toilet, occasionally rising to brush my teeth and start down the nausea path again. I managed to pull myself together to exit the ship when it docked. And that was Thanksgiving 1994.

Best

The year was 2004. Odd that the best Thanksgiving fell exactly 10 years after the worst. After about a year and a half of trying to get pregnant (damn those wasted years of unnecessary birth control), I strongly suspected that the spawn of Broad had been conceived. Meanwhile, the idiot sibling's marriage was imploding over the green bean casserole, oddly enough this did nothing to dampen Broad's joy or thankfulness on that blessed day, if anything it added to it. Thus, a pea-sized spawn of Broad feasted on the turkey and oysters I partook of that day, enjoying a little in utero T-Day. And that was Thanksgiving 2004.

Gentle readers, I know that family is not all it is cracked up to be, so I respectfully remind you to find the joy and happiness and peace in your life where you may, and if that is hiding in a garage with a pint of Jose Cuervo, so be it. Broad would never judge you, I am just grateful you take a few minutes of your day to read my yammerings.

Leave Me Alone

I hate going so long between posts, I don't want my gentle readers to feel unappreciated or alone, but I have not found much to be riled up about of late. Of course there is the "will she or won't she" debate raging over Clinton possibly becoming Secretary of State. Whatevs. It seems to me to be her best option, gives her more importance than if she is just a mere senator.

Yesterday the beloved spouse mentioned Bush making some changes to the Family Medical Leave Act (FMLA). I am a big believer in the act and think it doesn't even scratch the surface of what we need for parents and families in this country. Of course the fact that I once had to argue with a dipshit HR person about whether or not I was allowed to take 12 weeks after the spawn arrived is another reason I am a big supporter of the act.

That being said, what little I was able to track down about the latest FMLA changes authorized by the Bush Administration aren't even enough to get me hot under the collar. I think it is good that it is being extended to military families (and not just immediate family either), frankly I had no idea they didn't have the ability to use FMLA to care for wounded family members. I am kind of bothered that they are allowed six months of leave under the act, something that is not available to non-military people.

I guess that is about it, just wanted everyone to feel loved.

For Her Pleasure

I have been debating about blogging about this topic, but I think it falls under the heading of feminism, at least in my twisted little world, and after all, this blog is my twisted little world, so what Broad says goes. Ahem.

Playgirl is dead.

The magazine was founded in 1973 (a GREAT year I might add) and the final issue, January/February 2009, is on the newsstands now. I have only ever seen one issue of the magazine and believe it or not, it was one my mom purchased for me when I was high school/college age. I don't remember exactly. My mother's purchasing of the "naughty" magazine is a much stronger memory for me than whatever contents those glossy pages contained.

Why you ask, does the demise of a tawdy pornography periodical matter? In addition to the purpose of the magazine as a "feminist response to Playboy and Penthouse," Playgirl was apparently the ONLY magazine geared towards women that also just happened to display men in all their natural glory (well sort of, waxing ain't all that natural I don't suppose). So now, girls looking to get their visual socks rocked can't kick it old school with a magazine stuffed under their mattresses. (Note to pubescent boys out there, your mom knows you do this—ESPECIALLY if she is the one still changing your sheets . . . Don't think you are getting away with anything Einstein.)

But you ask, I have always heard that isn't how girls roll. Well . . . speaking solely for Broad minded I will say that everyone gets their jollies in different ways, each sense has its pros and cons. I'm not a prude, I actually have no objection to your basic soft core porn (having abstained from anything beyond that I will say that from what I hear about the harder-core stuff I would find that disturbing, as well as highly unfeminist and a most definite turn off) although I wouldn't mind seeing more porn that is specifically aimed at women and not at 20-something dudes with five minutes to spare.

And that is what Playgirl was about. Trying to get behind what turned women on. So why did the book fail? From the sounds of things there were several reasons, including the publishers (damn them) wanting to dumb down the content, while the editors seemed to be seeking to marry Ms. with naked dudes; and the editors trying to serve too varied an audience, i.e. not only heterosexual women, but homosexual men—apparently the two groups might have different sexual fantasies, go figure.

Where does this leave a modern feminist? Well most certainly with one less outlet to express herself sexually. Is it sad that Playgirl is gone? In a way I say yes, but if from its ashes a new effort to address heterosexual female sexuality rises up to live another day, then perhaps it will not have died in vain. 

You Need a Plan

First it was Wall Street, then it was the credit card companies, and now the American auto industry is hitting up taxpayers for a bailout.

I say let 'em fail. And please dear god, take their Hummers with them.

Apparently Congress has told the Big Three, no money without a plan. All of which sounds logical to me. After grad school I briefly answered phones for a local branch of the Small Business and Technology Development Center (SBTDC). While I didn't learn much, aside from the fact that the guy in the cube next to me liked to look at porn online at work, I was struck by the rigorous paperwork that was involved in starting up your own business through the Center.

The SBTDC was all about people having a plan for starting, maintaining and growing their businesses. I say, what is good enough for your local coffee shop or service station should be more than good enough for Ford, Chrysler and GM. But then what do I know, three of my four cars have been made outside the U.S. of A. much to my father's chagrin.

(And don't get me started on the money the CEO's of the three spent flying their three private jets to testify in front of Congress. Talk about a flagrant waste of money at a time when those dudes should have been hoofing it. Furthermore, I have heard from several places now that some auto workers are getting paid $40 to $70 an hour—depending on if you factor in the value of their benefits. Yep, that is $83,000 to $145,000 a year for jobs that don't require college degrees for the most part. Listen, I am not against someone making a fair wage, but I have SIX years of higher education and I am not making in that range. Something doesn't seem kosher there. Welcome to the real world, folks.)

Congress will eventually cave, but when that time comes, I sure hope they have made the auto industry create some sort of plan to straighten up and fly right. Until then, me and my Mini are going to keep cruising into the sunset . . .

Up From the Primordial Swamp

I like to assume, that you, my gentle readers, are educated folk. But perhaps you lack my love of useless trivia. For instance, did you know that Washington, D.C. was built from a swamp. Explains a lot about our political system today doesn't it?

Nonetheless, I had the opportunity to visit our nation's capital yesterday on business (nothing like an up and back in one day trip). And I wished that I had more time to explore the city. This is my third visit to D.C. in the past four or five years. The first was for my father-in-law's funeral service at Arlington in August. That wasn't pleasant. The second was for a NOW training session when I was about six months pregnant. Again, no real time for fun.

This trip didn't give me any fun time either. But I did get to see an amazing view of the Mall, from the Capital to the Lincoln Memorial as the plane took off. It was almost sunset too. Wow.

Forgive Us Our Debts

I admit that I am one of the many Americans burdened with credit card debt. Shit happens, and when you start out in the lowly world of publishing you ain't making the big bucks, you know? I used to steal canned food from my parents and call it grocery shopping. Enough of my whining, dry your tears and let's get back on topic.

But I have been especially intrigued of late with all the bellyaching we are hearing from retailers and credit card companies, etc. as our economy takes a nosedive. For instance, I saw a news clip with a handful of shoppers interviewed and one lady was talking about cutting back this holiday season because the money just wasn't there. Sounds reasonable and responsible to me. Of course Bank of America and their ilk would disagree (as would GAP and Macy's). They want us up to our eyeballs in bills that we can barely pay, that is their bread and butter.

Which leads me to Mr. Paulson's recent "redefining" of the big bailout package to the financial industry. Ole Hank is now saying some of that chunk of change is going to the credit card companies so they can ease up and give us poor schmucks more rope to hang ourselves. (Does this mean me telling BP to stuff their card where the sun doesn't shine after they reduced my credit limit, even though I am not carrying a balance, was wasted effort? That soon they would have been sending me a letter saying "Oops! Our bad, here have even more money!" And yes, BP is now dead to me. So I will be purchasing my sweet crude elsewhere thank you!)

First, I don't cotton to the Treasury Secretary monkeying around with this money. What's to stop him from deciding next week that he thinks he needs to shore up the craps tables at Caesar's Palace? It isn't like we locked down any hard and fast rules in regards to this money, like our friends across the pond did.

Second, I have no freakin' sympathy for the credit card companies (not that I have any for Wall Street either for that matter). They are only reaping what they have sown (to continue my biblical metaphor). 

Thirdly, we Americans have stuffed ourselves with useless junk (myself included) in the same way we have with food (ditto) and now it is time to pay the piper. So what if we have to scale back and not buy the kiddies their 10 millionth video game where women wear nothing and people get their heads blown off graphically. So what if we have to make our own lattes at home or buy cotton instead of cashmere. It isn't the end of the world. As much as I LOVE Christmas and shopping and the whole consumer kit and kaboodle, I know when to say uncle. And the time is now.

First Comes Love

I have always felt that sexuality exists on some sort of continuum–that there is no such thing as 100% heterosexual or homosexual, just variations on a theme if you will. (Trust me, this isn't my only crazy idea—I also believe [apologies to my Christian readers] that there might be something to reincarnation, if for no other reason than it is like recycling and why would god be so wasteful as to not reuse a life force?)

Anyway, I guess what I mean is that someone could be 80% heterosexual and 20% homosexual. Think about it. If you close your eyes and only touch someone with your lips (no whiskers to clue you in) you have no way of knowing if you are kissing a guy or girl. A kiss is a kiss is a kiss. I get that there are other body parts involved, but hopefully you get my drift.

This theory is just one of the reasons I was incredibly saddened by the decisions in California, Arizona and Florida to add state constitutional bans on gay marriage. Not to mention the fact that by the time the spawn is grown this will no longer be an issue, the majority of people younger than me now don't care, by the time the spawn votes, fewer will care. And like the spawn, many will have grown up with gay relatives in committed relationships.

I heard someone on Air America explain it like this (I think it was Randi Rhodes, but I am not certain)—this isn't an issue about whether or not you think being gay is right or wrong. This is a civil rights issue. Simply put, by saying that someone can't get married, be they gay or black or whatever, you are denying them a right that others possess. That is illegal in out country. Remember when the Supreme Court struck down the whole "separate but equal" argument with schools? Same thing here.

Finally, there is my crush du jour's heartfelt plea, do unto others indeed . . .

An Ode to China

In addition to all things political I have a deep and abiding love for all things tabletop ever since my days as a lowly minion at a national bridal magazine. Say what gentle reader? You don't know what tabletop is? Tabletop refers to all the stuff you use on your table, plates, glasses and utensils, although typically I would say the name evokes more of the china, crystal, silver realm of things than the Chinet, Solo, Dixie side of things.

So it saddened me today to read that the co-mingling of two giants in the world of tabletop, Royal Worcester and Spode, had declared bankruptcy. Go home and hug your Spode Christmas pattern, I know I will.

Anticipation

It was a feeling like I remember as a child going to bed on Christmas Eve—wondering what lay in store for me in the morning. Eagerly hoping that it would be all I had dreamed of and more. And this time it was.

When I went to bed last night, Obama had won Ohio—a huge coup—and the results were turning in his favor from Virginia. Florida was still too soon to call, but it looked like my own state, North Carolina, was leaning in his direction. While there is still some debate about North Carolina, both Virginia and Florida went for Obama.

So history has been made. And now the work begins . . .

Shameful

With all eyes on the election today, it seems especially pertinent to remind voters of just what is at stake. The NY Times posted an editorial yesterday that aimed to do just that. 

The article looked at what the Bush Administration would try to slip in under the radar during their last 77 days in office (expanding on an earlier post). Among the atrocities Dubya and Cheney and the boys (sorry Condi) are aiming for are your civil liberties, the environment and abortion. Here are some highlights:

• New FBI guidelines—Agents will be allowed to use informants to infiltrate lawful groups, engage in prolonged physical surveillance and lie about their identity while questioning a subject’s neighbors, relatives, co-workers and friends.
• New EPA rule—They are expected to issue a final rule that would make it easier for coal-fired power plants to locate near national parks in defiance of longstanding Congressional mandates to protect air quality in areas of special natural or recreational value.
• Health & Human Services–The department's secretary, Michael Leavitt, is expected, after the election, to extend the so-called right to refuse to a wide range of health care workers and activities including abortion referrals, unbiased counseling and provision of birth control pills or emergency contraception, even for rape victims.
  
  

As Dixville Notch Goes . . .

Per Yahoo News:

Democrat Obama defeated Republican John McCain by a count of 15 to 6 in Dixville Notch, where a loud whoop accompanied the announcement in Tuesday's first minutes. The town of Hart's Location reported 17 votes for Obama, 10 for McCain and two for write-in Ron Paul. Independent Ralph Nader was on both towns' ballots but got no votes.

ADDITION:

Per CNN—It was the first time since 1968 that the village leaned Democratic in an election.

Condolences

Barack Obama's campaign office just released news that his grandmother, Madelyn Dunham, died of cancer. I am so saddened that this woman who was instrumental in raising Obama did not live to see him become president. Her role in supporting her at-the-time unconventional daughter and raising her grandson speak to an extraordinary depth of love, tolerance, acceptance and humanity that we should all aspire to. Peace and comfort to her family and may her journey to whatever awaits us after life on this earth be a speedy one.

A Just Reward

So you should vote tomorrow because it is your civic duty and because it is a right and privilege that not everyone enjoys. But if that isn't enough to sway you, how about free cup of joe and/or scoop of frozen milky goodness?

Starbucks is offering you a free cup of brewed coffee. And later in the day you can head over to your local Ben & Jerry's to get a free scoop. Now those are some delicious incentives if I do say so myself.

Outrageous? Or Courageous?

Talk about getting your mojo back. Despite his rumored marital woes with the other Jennifer, Ben Affleck gave a standout performance goofing on MSNBC's Keith Olbermann this past Saturday on SNL. If that show would stick to politically based skits it might get its own mojo back as well.

Check it out: