blue girl

Hope Yadda Yadda Doom Yadda Yadda

I'm really busy at work this week and have no time to write. But, I still have time every now and then to read. If you do too, read these questions Melissa has for Barack Obama.

I'd love to hear how Obama would answer them. Unfortunately, I think all I'd hear was a bunch of Hope Yadda Yadda Change Yadda Yadda Can't We All Just Get Along Yadda Yadda Sisboombah.

We have a lot of things to fix in the country! Um, pretty much everything! And nothing's going to get done by sitting around holding hands and singing Kum Bah Yadda Yadda Yah!

And while I'm ranting and raving here. Could anyone have been more passionless than Gov. Kathleen Sebelius last night when she was responding to Bush's speech?

If the Democrats can't muster more passion than that at this moment in time -- of all moments in time -- after what we've lived through the last seven years -- we're doomed!

Doomed!

I want passion and substance. Shouldn't be too much to ask!

(Good enough for ya, littlehorn?)

Surprise! Wrong Again.

My God.  George W. Bush is wrong about everything.

h/t Crooks and Liars.

Snagette in a Red State

The Skimmer popped his head in my office late yesterday afternoon as I was staring blankly, with itchy, watery eyes, at my computer screen. He was leaving to go to the grocery store.

"You want anything?"

"More Sudafed. I'm going to die."

"That it?"

"Hmmm. Mmmm. I need some chocolate pudding, I think." I was so weak, I could barely get the words out.

"Ah, poor, poor you."

"I'm really sick! I need some chocolate pudding! Or....maybe some Whippets. Nah. Wait...."

"Geez!"

"Ok, Sudafed and chocolate pudding. And please hurry. I'm not sure I'll make it if you're gone too long." And then I sneezed four times in a row and coughed really hard.

He had been gone about five minutes when I thought of something else. Luckily, he had the cell phone with him. Weakly, and in much misery, I punched the numbers in.

"Hello?"

"Skimmer? I need some soup, too. Lots of soup. And crackers."

"Geez! You're like Snag!"

"Pshaaaaaw" I moaned. "I'm really sick! Not fake sick! Get lots of different soups. Tomato, Chicken Noodle, Vegetable Beef...every kind they have."

"Is that it?"

"And get those little round crackers. Not the square ones."

"Ehhhhhhhhhhh...." He whined.

"Ehhhhhhhhhhh...." I whined back.

About a half hour later I heard him come through the door. I was very brave and descended the stairs in my very fragile condition.

"Did you get the soup? The pudding?"

"Yes I did, Snagette!"

I laughed. My sense of humor still fully intact even though I was at death's door. "Thanks. You're the bestest."

I grabbed a chocolate pudding cup out of the bag. So good, it made me feel better for about a minute or two.

But then, I went back to being weak. And fragile. And really sick. Not fake sick, like some people.

What a Shock

Heath Ledger found dead in New York City.

Woah. That came out of left field and hit me like a ton of bricks. He was only 28. Just terrible.

What a shame.

Photo swiped from Melissa.

When Someone Tells You Who They Are, Believe Them

I believe what the candidates tell me. When Hillary says she wants to help average Americans, but it's hard, and she'll have to compromise, I believe her. When Edwards says he wants to protect us from corporations relentlessly pursuing profit, I believe him. I believe that Obama has plans to change the system. And when every Republican except McCain tells me that they want more torture and more secret prisons, I believe them. And when McCain says he thinks we could stay in Iraq for 100 years, I believe him. I believe Huckabee wants to amend the Constitution to bring it more in line with Biblical principles because he told me so.

I believe them all, and let that guide my decisions...

Read all of Mike Terry's post, On Cynicism. Especially the part about what he's so, so tired of discussing when it comes to having a Clinton running for president. I'm right there with him. I got tired of hearing about it, especially from people whose closets were full of the same sort of ghosts, years ago.

Actually, I got tired of hearing about it about five minutes after I originally heard about it.

Dream Girl

I usually fall asleep with the TV on. I need noise. And not only do I need noise, I need tricks. The trick that works the best is reading a book. But, it's not the reading part that helps me to fall asleep. It's the holding of the book part, with both hands. After reading for awhile, I'll lay the book on my lap, while holding it open, knowing that I should mark the page I'm on and put it on the nightstand. And knowing that's what I should do and knowing that I'm not doing it is the trick that helps me to fall asleep.

Falling asleep with the TV on is a bad habit because it normally wakes me up in the middle of the night. About 3:00am Saturday morning, I woke up because I could hear Eddie Murphy talking and as I was waking up I was thinking, somewhat irrationally, that quote would be great to post on my blog!

'Cause I'm a karate man, see! And a karate man bruises on the inside! They don't show their weakness. But you don't know that because you're a big Barry White looking motherfucker! So get outta my face!

Normally when I wake up in the middle of the night I panic. Oh my God! I'm awake! It's only 3:00am! I hate when I wake up like this! Ahhhhhhhhh! I can never sleep! But, usually I fall right back to sleep. As I was falling back to sleep in the wee hours after Eddie Murphy woke me up, I was thinking, Trading Places was a good movie. Eddie Murphy is funny. Why'd he disappear for so long? He was Gumbie, dammit! Saturday Night Live stinks now. I'm glad he was nominated for Dreamgirls. Too bad he lossszzzzzzzzzz....

That's another bad habit I've gotten into. I concentrate on what I'm thinking about and all the weird imagery that floods my mind right before I fall into a deep sleep.

Wow, look at that nun run. That is a huge couch with a million tiny buttons. It makes a great ski lift. I bet it's comfortable. Those cereal boxes are pretty Christmas decorationszzzzzzzzz....

I woke up this morning at 3:30. The February issue of Vanity Fair all crumpled up and scrunched beneath my left side. The Skimmer must've been bothered by the noise of the TV because it was off and the house was still. I didn't panic. I just turned on HBO, settled on a movie, held my magazine with both hands, shut my eyes and started thinking, Ed Norton's a good actor. Wonder why he disappeared? His grandfather invented the shopping mall concept. That's interesting. This was a good movie. So was American History X. Brad Pitt looked good in Legends of the Fall and then I heard the narrator in Fight Club say...

When you have insomnia, you're never really asleep... and you're never really awake.

And I thought, that would be a great quote to post on my blog!

The Day I Flattened a Little Honey Bunny

The week before Christmas I ran into Borders for a few last minute gifts. As I entered the old building that had been recently renovated, I thought of Blue Wren. She'd kill me if she knew I was coming in here!

This Borders was tiny with tall, stand-alone shelves packed with books, and tables loaded with novelty items placed every which way creating a cramped yet cozy maze. No room for televisions! I breathed a sigh of relief.

I weaved in and out of the displays and the hordes of shoppers and after about twenty minutes, my left arm full of DVDs and books, I started toward the front of the store to check out. On my way I spotted a book on the top shelf of a bookcase that I had forgotten I wanted to buy for a couple of friends.

Yay! There's Bossy's book!

In that moment I was really proud that I had a blogging friend who is a real writer who had a real essay included in a real hardcover book being sold in a real bookstore. Without TVs.

I made a beeline to the bookcase. I set down all the DVDs and books on the floor and transferred my nine thousand pound purse from my right hand to my left. In a rather graceful ballet move, that would put you in mind of Gilda Radner, I stretched up to get a couple of the books off the top shelf with my right hand as my left arm naturally swung from the front to the back of me just as I caught a shadow out of the corner of my eye.

As my purse connected with something, I heard a THWUMP! And I turned quickly to see a little half pint flying a foot off the ground, landing on her pampered butt with a THUD! Some of you may consider Baby Dropkick a perfectly acceptable reindeer game, but it's not one that I'm proud to be so good at.

I was stunned and so was she. I knew right away that she wasn't hurt but she was still trying to figure that out. I knelt down, apologizing in my best Goo Goo Gah Gah voice while she peered up at me, tears welling up into the folds of the bottom of her eyelids. She had a sleepy, peanut-shaped face, pale skin and bright red lips that were quivering and contorting into all kinds of expressions. Surprise. Anger. Shock. Sadness.

Deep despair. That only years of therapy would ever be able to erase.

As I continued to talk to her, preparing at any moment for her postpartum mother to blindside me with a good swift kick of her own, the peanut baby reached up and pulled off her hat. Static electricity made every light brown hair on her head stand straight on end -- eight inches high in all directions. She was breaking my heart. I couldn't help but smile. As Christian on Project Runway would say, "She was a hot mess."

Her mother appeared looking frazzled that she had lost her baby. I explained what happened in my very best Extremely Concerned and Apologetic, Oh my God, I'm an Idiot, But She's Okay, Please Don't Beat Me Up or Sue Me adult voice.

"Maggie, you okay? She's ok. She's a toughie. You didn't mean it."

Maggie was holding a small book in her tiny hand and reached out to give it to me.

"What do you have there?"

"Eh!"

"What is it?"

"Eh!" She croaked, a single tear slowly falling down the right side of her cheek.

"You want me to read this to you?"

She and I sat there together on the floor and I read the book to her.

"Judy can pat the bunny. Can you pat the bunny?"

"Eh!" And as she rubbed the white fur, her quivering lips broke into a beautiful, drooly smile.

Imagining Galatea

The newcomer was past her prime. If the 21st June is the height of summer, she was somewhere around the beginning of August. She looked good and if she’d been let in on my metaphor she’d probably have seen herself at some point towards the end of May.

They touched fingers and the second one slipped her coat from her shoulders and said something I couldn’t hear. The tall one whispered the other’s name, ‘Galatea.’

Read all of Waiting for Galatea, from John Baker's From My Notebook.

Trend-spotter

Snag is sick.

Boo-hoo-hoo.

John Edwards for President

Larry Jones writes that he's going to vote for John Edwards when his state holds its primary and why you should too.

What a great post! (And the photo up top ain't too shabby either.)