It seems fitting that Zippy and I
ended this extremely difficult year and decade
with a movie of hope:
MILK.
Here’s to all of us stepping up for what we believe in,
and making the world a better place.
Channeling a little Harvey Milk.
I wish you all a wonderful 2010
filled with
joy,
love,
laughter,
and lots of light.
See you next year!
Today is the 17th anniversary of S’s death.
S was one of the funniest, most obnoxious people I’ve ever known.
He could make me laugh and laugh,
even when I didn’t want to give him that satisfaction.
But S was also fiercely loyal.
I went through a rough time when I was eighteen.
I’d just finished my freshmen year of college
and wasn’t sure where to go from there.
One particularly difficult night
there was a lot of drama
involving an apartment lease and some so-called friends,
and I just needed to get away.
I called a cab and S left the group to come with me.
But it wasn’t until we were somewhere in the boondocks outside Madison
that we realized we didn’t have much money.
After a somewhat panicked, whispered consultation
we asked the driver to stop.
We gave the confused man all the money we had and got out.
Then S and I walked.
I don’t remember all the remaining details
but I know there was swearing.
And laughter.
Followed by more swearing and laughter.
But at no point was there finger-pointing, blame, guilt or shame.
S was my friend.
My best friend.
He knew I was already hurting enough.
The next day, though,
there was undoubtedly hell-to-pay.
S could only rein it in for so long.
Cleaning off desk.
Again.
This time I’m determined
to act on every single piece of paper.
The neighborhood Red-tailed Hawk is here to make sure I follow through.
Two little Starlings
in an atypical moment of rest.
Two busy Starlings
flapping near suet feeder
while one little Starling
and one regal Flicker
observe.
Three little Starlings:
one calm,
one in motion,
and one calling dibs on feeder.
(Photos one and two by Zippy)
I’m bird-rich right now:
Robins
Starlings
Flickers
Finches
Sparrows
But only the Finches and Sparrows are cooperating with the camera and lighting…
Even though it’s snowy and cold right now
these little guys make me feel warm inside.
Apparently Zebu and Wildebeest’s limit
for filth is one inch.
As in that’s how deep the dust was in their rooms
before they cleaned today.
And it seems that’s about as disgusting as they want to go.
Is it totally pathetic I’m celebrating the fact
my teen-aged sons have a Filth Limit?
Here’s a scary little peek into my head this morning:
1) Okay, before I do anything else I need to put that laundry in the washer
2) but wait a minute, this gift I planned on contributing to the gift exchange doesn’t meet the spending minimum
3) which reminds me I also haven’t gotten anything for my brother yet but
4) maybe there’s some cool Neil Young memorabilia on ebay I could get for him
5) oh, forget it, I can’t afford that $999 autographed guitar and plus wasn’t I supposed to finish revisions today?
Roland Hedley covers the Tiger Woods story.
And comes up with an angle every writer can appreciate:
DOONESBURY by Garry Trudeau
Because there’s always a vampire angle.
Is anyone else having trouble?
My post from yesterday is all messed up.
I’m trying to post a comic strip right now and the words wrap around the strip.
Aargh!!!!
wrote about her run today
and inspired me to get off my butt
so I could also enjoy the relatively balmy December temps.
She included a fun post-run pic so I’m doing the same.
And if any of you are experiencing the almost-winter blahs,
I highly recommend a brisk run around the neighborhood.
You, too, could experience this kind of high! 
(And WTF with LJ formatting?!)
I’m plotting today.
What are you doing?
Yesterday the Street Reach volunteers
bagged gifts for our annual toy drive.
This year we provided gifts for 1000 children
from about 320 families.
When families sign up they provide the sex and age
of each child and we give each a gift.
The gifts are sorted by age groups and we walk around
"shopping" for the right gifts which we put in a numbered bag.
Even though it’s a good cause, I get a little tense
because selecting gifts feels like sex-role stereotyping.
Dolls-for-girls and footballs-for-boys sort of thing.
(My family donated books but there weren’t nearly enough).
I’m putting together a list of suggestions for next year’s drive
and I thought you all might have some great gift ideas.
We especially fell short for the teens (and there were lots this year).
We try to keep the gifts at $10 or less (bought on sale).
I’d appreciate any sex-neutral suggestions.
Thank you in advance!
No, I’m not talking escalation in Iraq and Afghanistan.
Or health care reform.
I’m talking about how "the president has packed his economic team with Wall Street insiders intent on turning the bailout into an all-out giveaway."
Here’s the link that takes you to Matt Taibbi’s article, "Obama’s Big Sellout," in the current issue of Rolling Stone.
I forced myself to read the article.
I hope you’ll read it, too.
Obama and all those rich Wall Street bastards are counting on us not paying attention.
Knowledge is power
and until we understand the breadth
of greed and selfishness coming from the top,
we don’t stand a chance of stopping this.
For those more visually-inclined,
here’s a video of Matt Taibbi summarizing his article: Obama’s Big Sellout.
I absolutely recommend Mr. Taibbi’s work.
He’s smart and funny and cuts to the quick with his assesments.
He makes Rolling Stone absolutely relevant in this era.
I’m so glad Wildebeest has a subscription.
When is being nice too nice?
Stupid?
Or even dangerous?
Last night I walked out of a store to the parking lot.
An old, loud truck passed me.
As I reached to open my car door
I heard "Excuse me, ma’am."
It was the guy in the truck.
He had a story about being stranded
and needing gas money.
I told him I didn’t have my wallet and only had a credit card
but would look in my car for change.
He then asked me to go to a gas station where he’d clean my windows
in exchange for some gas.
I hesitated and told him I needed to check in my car.
I found four quarters, accidentally dropped one between the seats,
and took three out to the man.
It wasn’t until I handed him the money that I looked at him.
He looked a little volatile.
A bit scary.
But I see volatile and scary every week at the soup kitchen.
He thanked me and I walked back to my car.
A woman in an SUV was idling there, watching.
She said, "I was just making sure you were okay."
I thanked her and got in my car.
And then it all hit me:
I hadn’t thought twice about approaching that man’s truck.
Hadn’t thought twice about standing next to his door and open window.
Hadn’t thought about the big dog on the seat next to him.
I’m 5’10".
I regularly "bounce" people from the spaghetti dinner.
I’m used to people on the edge.
But none of that matters.
Last night I wasn’t paying attention to the situation.
And worse, I actually contemplated going to a gas station.
Whoa.
I need to maintain a sense of "me" in those interactions.
Giving is good until it’s stupid.
Today’s forecast was a high of 10 degrees.
This afternoon I was stir crazy
so bundled up and went outside to shovel.
I shoveled for just over an hour.
It felt good to get air and exercise.
I was very grateful for my mask.
But then I looked in the mirror
and noticed my cheeks are red.
A different kind of red.
Oh no!
Frostnip?
Frostbite?
I did a Google images search.
Ewww.
And whew.
I absolutely do not have frostbite.
Trust me on this one.
Today is cold as a witch’s tit.
At least, I thought it was.
Until I found this:
"For years, the public has assumed that the breasts of witches maintain temperatures at or around the freezing point of water," said team leader Phillip McCracken in a telephone interview. "Through a series of revolutionary experiments, we have been able to determine that they actually achieve an average temperature of 72 degrees Fahrenheit."
The researchers do not currently understand why witches’ tits — while certainly warmer than expected — are nearly 27 degrees cooler than the tits of normal humans.
"Unfortunately, theory behind the thermodynamics of thaumaturgic mammaries is sadly under-investigated," added McCracken.
Magdalena Chancerly, the president of the National Organization of Wiccans in Salem, received the news of the scientists’ findings with enthusiasm. "You can only hear ‘cold as a witch’s tit’ so many times before becoming offended. I, for one, am glad to have my breasts associated with the comfortable climate of spring instead of the chill of winter."
Michael Genrich is a Boston-based writer and compu-chimp. He accepts full responsibility for The Daily Instigator.
I stink at making up titles.
But with FRAMED, I thought I’d finally done it:
created the perfect title
right from the start!
It’s been FRAMED through
every single draft
and revision.
I was so proud of my multi-layered title.
But now it’s been pointed out that
FRAMED is too subtle for a middle-grade novel.
Sadly, I believe that’s true.
So now I need something else,
perhaps FRAMED plus subtitle.
Or maybe something completely different.
Have I mentioned I stink at titles?
Quick, who said this:
"So no – I do not make this decision lightly. I make this decision because I am convinced that our security is at stake in Afghanistan and Pakistan. This is the epicenter of the violent extremism practiced by al Qaeda. It is from here that we were attacked on 9/11, and it is from here that new attacks are being plotted as I speak. This is no idle danger; no hypothetical threat. In the last few months alone, we have apprehended extremists within our borders who were sent here from the border region of Afghanistan and Pakistan to commit new acts of terror. This danger will only grow if the region slides backwards, and al Qaeda can operate with impunity. We must keep the pressure on al Qaeda, and to do that, we must increase the stability and capacity of our partners in the region."
You’d be excused if you thought those words came from George W. Bush.
But you’d also be wrong because
those fearmongering words came from Obama’s speech last night.
Obama ended with this Bush-esque tangle of mixed metaphor and jingoism:
"America – we are passing through a time of great trial. And the message that we send in the midst of these storms must be clear: that our cause is just, our resolve unwavering. We will go forward with the confidence that right makes might, and with the commitment to forge an America that is safer, a world that is more secure, and a future that represents not the deepest of fears but the highest of hopes. Thank you, God Bless you, God Bless our troops, and may God Bless the United States of America."
Then Obama went back to the White House to pack his bags
for his trip to Oslo where he’ll pick up his Nobel Peace Prize.
Tracy Abell 