Mid-Week Anniversary Rambling

It's my second anniversary today... (And Neil's too, of course). It feels strange that we've been married for two years already. I have no idea how that is possible... but here we are on Sept. 1 again, so it must be true.

Neil is, thank goodness, flying away from New York and the Republican Convention as I type...Interestingly; his journalistic non-partisan assessment of the RNC compared to the DNC is that the RNC was infinitely more lame. I, of course, was pleased to hear that. But it looks like Bush is still going to get the post-convention bounce in the polls... I have no idea what's going to happen in 62 days on Election Day, but it promises to be exciting.

Tonight we're going to eat sushi and then I might take Neil to see Garden State, my new favorite movie. I saw it last weekend with my mom and grandma and cousin Pam and we all loved it. Neil doesn't always love the same movies I do... in fact, he doesn't often love any movies, but I have a feeling he'll like this one... It is by far the best movie I have seen in a long long time...

I'm off to celebrate!

Because I Am Too Lazy To Type It All Out Again

Jodi says:
so i got woken up before 6 by the fire alarm beeping for low battery
and we just changed the battery last week
and neil's gone
and it was the alarm at the top of our living room ceiling...(very high)

Britten says:
ugh.
what did you do?
call your landlord? hee hee.

Jodi says:
and the dogs were shaking and whining... sensitive ears..

Jodi says:
yeah... i actually did and they were no help...
but i got the ladder out of the garage (heavy dirty icky)

Britten says:
did you get a ladder?

Britten says:
oh -- yeah.

Jodi says:
and took the battery out

Britten says:
fun

Jodi says:
and it kept beeping

Britten says:
yuck.

Britten says:
ARGH!

Jodi says:
and we didn't have any more batteries
and i was late for a staff meeting

Britten says:
oh my.
sounds like a not-so-fun morning.

Jodi says:
so i got the dogs, put them in their crate and put the crate in the closet and shut all three doors between the closet and the living room

Jodi says:
and shut boo boo's room

Britten says:
poor boo boo!

Jodi says:
and then went to work... and after my lunch meeting i went home and got the ladder out AGAIN

Britten says:
oh my

Jodi says:
and put a new battery in that i bought on my way home (even thought the previous battery had been new too)

Britten says:
geepers.

Jodi says:
so, please cross your fingers that it stops and I don't have to collect my pets and move to a hotel.

Britten says:
My fingers are crossed.

Jodi says:
oh, and because of all the chaos, i forgot to wear my wedding ring for the first time in two years!

Britten says:
ACK!

Jodi says:
and my watch and earrings
and i felt naked
and i didn't eat breakfast either

Jodi says:
it sucked SOOO much.

Britten says:
my goodness.

Jodi says:
i can't wait to start over tomorrow morning.

Far far away...

My little brother Dustin (who is actually quite a bit bigger than me at this stage in our lives, but used to be small -- see photo below) is flying away from me right now. He's somewhere on his way to Europe where he'll meet up with a group of college students and begin his nine-month adventure in Italy. I am really excited for him. But at the same time I'm a little sad that he's going to be so far away for so long.

I am not sure why it is better when he's in California at school. Maybe it's because I know he'll be coming home for holidays, or because I know it only takes a day or part of a day to get to him? And the time difference is only an hour instead of eight. There's something about the knowledge that if I really need to, I can get to him for a hug without major inconvenience and delay... because sometimes the best thing in the world is a hug from my little brother, or a shared laugh -- in person.

He was supposed to come by my house at 4:30 this morning to say goodbye, but was running late and called instead. I mumbled some incomprehensible stuff...the regular have fun, be safe, e-mail me as soon as you get there... and he said to have fun with my dogs and say bye to Neil and we hung up. I'm a little sad that I didn't get to see him -- get a few hugs to tide me over until next summer.

But mostly, I am thrilled about the experience he's going to have and the things he's going to learn. I am envious of him because I always wanted to study abroad and didn't because I was too afraid of missing out on something... and I admire him for taking the brave step and going.

So, I might worry a little. And I'll probably have a few times that I want to call him and can't because of the time difference and I'll certainly miss him a lot, but mostly, I am proud of him.

I always know this, but I suppose the reality of nine months without him just made me feel it more than usual: I have a really incredible little brother.

My brother and me a million years ago... 

Catching Up

The Big News of the day:

After weeks of worrying about my teeth and imagining that I had at least eight cavities and would be needing serious gum surgery, I went to the dentist today and not only was everyone there really nice (unlike previous dentists) but they also said I have great teeth with no cavities! Strange how a good dentist visit made me so elated...

Where I have been:

Portland.

We visited Neil's family and friends for nine days which was a bit too long. We had at least four different social engagements daily and came home thoroughly exhausted and it was a tough trip at times because we were spread so thin... but overall, it was successful. We saw at least 50 relatives and 20 friends (including three of my personal friends). We spent a day on the Oregon Coast with Neil's mom and Grandma and Aunt. We went to the COOLEST dog store ever www.lexidog.com. We spent six hours biking and kayaking with Neil's dad in a self-made biathlon (semi-torturous at the time, but rewarding in the end). And, we met Neil’s best friend's baby, possibly the cutest baby I've ever met.

We got home Sunday and my parents were at our house with our dogs, who we missed a ton. Apparently, the dogs had a great socialization experience while we were away. They bonded with my parents (mostly my mom) and then went to a kennel for five days where they charmed all the employees (and didn't bite anyone).

Last night was the much-anticipated Dave Matthews Band concert. My fan club membership got us sixth row seats and it was amazing. Also amazing is how little sleep I have had over the last 12 days. Oregon consisted of about 6 hours of sleep a night on an air mattress and since then, I have not been doing much better. I thought I was going to fall asleep while having my teeth cleaned. But the chalkboard-esque scraping ensured that I didn't.

The concert brought up those pesky feelings that I should quit my job and follow my every whim in an effort to live the most fulfilling/authentic/quality life I can. Something about being surrounded by and filled with really good live music makes me feel more alive than I do in my day to day life... Other things bring about this feeling too: using my body (the biking and kayaking biathlon for example) being in nature, being with friends and family, reading something really well-written and thought-provoking, writing something I feel proud of (most recently my John Kerry essay, even if NPR didn't want it), traveling, seeing new things, meeting new people...I think there are some more... but at the moment, the exhaustion is taking over.

I'm Alive

Just in case anyone was wondering...

The Touch

The following is an essay I wrote with the hopes of getting it on the radio...possibly as commentary on NPR's Morning edition. I submitted a shorter version to NPR and haven't heard anything back... so here it is in its entirety:

I am new to the role of political supporter. As a newspaper journalist, I met or was in the same room as many prominent politicians. I covered events with Bill and Hillary Clinton, Laura Bush and others and while I may have been more excited about reporting on certain events, I never let it show. Now that I no longer need to remain impartial and am free to support candidates of my choice, I have a little trouble getting into it. At rallies I can’t bring myself to cheer or even hold a sign up for very long. I remain uneasy about making political donations and posting political bumper stickers on my car. And so, when I waited outside a Catholic church in Albuquerque, New Mexico’s Old Town this Sunday and to catch a glimpse of Senator John Kerry, I really didn’t know what I was in for.

Supporters were cordoned off behind ropes across the street from the church, and as I stood in the crowd, I longed for a press pass and notebook so I could get a better seat and not have to be a part of this giddy group. Despite the oppressive heat, the Kerry supporters were oozing enthusiasm. Their dedication impressed me and I thought about how surreal it would be to emerge from mass to see a few hundred people who all wanted something from you – a smile, an autograph, a handshake.

As I stood there watching various gray-haired congregants exit the church, I wondered whether I might miss Senator Kerry. Maybe I wouldn’t recognize him. Or maybe he’d walk out and disappear before I could catch sight of him. But there was no missing the Senator. He emerged and the crowd started cheering, and even in person, he looked larger than life. The New Mexico sunshine was helping – casting perfect light down onto the candidate. It was the kind of lighting that makes everyone look great and he was basking in it as he walked across the street toward the crowd.

Senator Kerry works the crowd with both hands, his eyes, and his mouth. While he’s shaking with his right hand, he’s looking at someone else and talking to yet another person -- maximizing his impact on the crowd with the tools he has. Occasionally, his left hand reaches out as well, one more point of contact, one more way to please his public and possibly get some votes.

By the time he works his way down to our end of the street he’s sweating in the heat. His wife Teresa has stopped right in front of me and is talking with a family like she knows them. I overhear something about them having met in Arizona, business cards are exchanged and I unashamedly stare at the woman who could be the first lady. She is more beautiful in person than on television or in the various newspaper photographs I’ve seen.

Kerry is moving more slowly. As he gets closer, the crowd cheers louder. “Help is on the way! Help is on he way!” drowning out the handful of Bush supporters that have shown up and mixed in. I think about how at a Bush event in New Mexico, everyone attending has to sign a form saying they will vote for the president…so they probably don’t get many hecklers. And even though I don’t like what they’re saying, I’m glad the Bush supporters are here.

And then, Kerry is upon us. Despite protests from my intellect, my body kicks into adrenaline mode and I start panicking about what I’ll say if I get to shake his hand. I wipe my palm on my jeans to make sure it’s dry. And laugh at myself. I had been wondering why all these people wanted so badly to touch this man. But now as he is a few paces away, it becomes clear to me. Or at least as clear as it can be. I want to touch him for so many reasons: I want to wish him luck; I want to be able to tell my grandchildren someday that I shook hands with the president on a campaign stop in Albuquerque; and then on some other much more basic level, I want a piece of him, a moment of his attention. I want to have a few seconds in time that I share with this man who is carrying the hopes and dreams of so many – including myself – on his shoulders.

I take a deep breath, stick out my hand and make contact. He grasps my hand in less of a handshake and more of a thumb war grip, or the first in a series of short grips and touches making up a secret handshake.

“I really hope you win,” I say loudly, but probably not quite loud enough. I’m looking at him, but even though I’ve got his hand, his eyes have already moved on down the line. “Thank you!” he says, but he probably wasn’t talking to me, so I stop looking at his face, shift my eyes to his hand locked with mine and let go.

Exhaustion

I have noticed that some periods of time are more exhausting than others. This may sound incredibly obvious... but I am not so sure it is... For example, some weeks go by very quickly -- I go to work each day and come home and it's Monday morning and the next thing I know it it's Friday afternoon. Those types of weeks go too quickly to feel exhausting or boring or monotonous (though they probably are monotonous). But then there are weeks like this one during which each day feels like three or four days and by the time Friday afternoon rolls around all I want to do is crawl under the comforter and hibernate. It is one of those Friday afternoons right now... I am soooo tired.

In fact, while trying to type a letter here at work this afternoon, I started nodding off. This was a dire situation not even coffee could fix it. I think I arrived in this end-of-week stupor because I only got six or seven hours of sleep each night this week, I started the week off with my late-night speeding extravaganza, my days at work have been uninspiring and long, last night I went to Santa Fe with Neil and we didn't get home until midnight...and I am sure there must be other reasons... like my binging on sugar this week and my overuse of caffeine.

What bothers me is that this insane schedule and lifestyle are not at all what I am striving for... How do I slow things down long enough to make the changes necessary to live a more balanced life? Or will things just balance themselves out eventually?

Ticketed

Last week, my dad got tickets to the Ani Difranco concert in Santa Fe. And on Sunday, I attended the concert with my parents and little brother... Going to a concert of a bi-sexual folk singer may not seem like the conventional family bonding activity... and I'm sure it's not... but for some reason, it worked for us. My parents went early and got in line, my brother showed up late, but the concert started late, so it worked out. Other than some issues with people smoking, and a terrible opening act, the evening was fun. I loved the concert, but wished she'd played longer than an hour and 15 minutes... I think my parents liked it and I still have no clue what Dustin thought... After a summer when I thought about going to lots of different concerts and was disappointed by one concert (Los Lonely Boys at the Albuquerque Zoo), it was a joy to rediscover the magic of live music.

Another Kind of Ticket

But then.... I had to drive home to Albuquerque in the middle of the night and Neil had just gotten home from Boston and I couldn't wait to see him and to get to bed and on my way the worst thing happened... I got a stain on my once spotless driving record. I can no longer say that I've never been pulled over for speeding. I can no longer say I've never had a ticket... I went almost 11 years without ever being pulled over; except for once in Utah because of a broken tail light...(I got a warning.)

I would describe the evil way in which the officer pulled me over (basically he tailgated me and made me think that an evil person was trying to run me off the road and kill me and then he turned his siren on)but I really don't want to talk about it...

I've been told that I'm being idiotically sensitive about this whole thing...but I don't care. I'm upset. I didn't want that ticket. I may have been speeding a bit (the cop alleges I was going 89 in a 75) but I still contend that I didn't deserve the ticket. I only went that fast for a couple minutes.. then I caught myself and everyone else on that highway was going faster than me.

Getting caught sucks. Basically, I went too long without a ticket... and now that my perfect record is ruined, I'm devastated... It's like the old woman who never had a cavity on the day she finally gets one... It sucks.

Patriot?

Oh shit. It happened again. Just when I was certain that I wasn't a patriot, that the American flag held no emotionalism for me... that while I believe in the political process, I was somehow above feeling patriotic, a man named John Haber had to go comentating on NPR's All Things Considered last night. His piece was about being an advance man at the 1984 convention when the Democrats reclaimed the American flag at their San Francisco convention. The radio piece was only 3 minutes and 35 seconds and all Haber talked about was how he came up with the theme for the address at that convention and decided to wave American flags even though the Republicans had claimed the flag as their own. When the 40,000 flags arrived they all said Made in Taiwan and volunteers removed the words from each flag with rubbing alcohol and Q-tips and then passed the flags out on the convention floor for all the atendees to wave during Mondale's address...

When the commentary ended, I found that I had a little tear in my eye. Crying about the flag? This was almost as bad as my American flag purchase (which happened by cover of night at a Wal Mart about a week after the Sept. 11 attacks). I suppose my purpose in bringing this up is that I am wondering why I am so ashamed to be patriotic? I really don't know why I view any surge of patriotism I feel as an ugly wart or a personality defect. Was I like this when a president I approved of was in office? I don't remember...Back then, there weren't so many things that would evoke patriotism.. We weren't under attack, there wasn't a deep divide in the country between the parties, there wasn't a war.

I know that in Mrs. Garcia's fifth grade class, I LOVED U.S. History. I was obsessed with Abraham Lincoln and I memorized all of the presidents in order. Washington, Adams, Jefferson, Madison, Monroe Adams, Jackson, Van Buren, Harrison, Tyler, Polk, Taylor, Filmore, Pierce...you get the picture. When my family visited Washington D.C. that year, I was awed by the monuments and the historic places we visited. I found it amazing to be in the same place George Washington once was. So what happened between the time I was 10 and now that has made me so cynical? I'm not sure, but I have some guesses... George Bush? Terrorism? Embarassing and needless wars? Prison scandals? International shame?

But John Kerry spoke last night and he seems to have made a good impression. Balloons and confetti fell from the ceiling, the delegates cheered. I hope it was a big enough launch. I hope something amazing happens. I hope the Johns win the election and that maybe then, I won't be afraid to be proud of my country.

Tires, Rocks and Bitter Coffee

* I took Neil's truck in to Discount Tire for what I thought was going to be an expensive visit because his front right tire had a bulge in it that was not supposed to be there. The tire guy came out to take a look and said, "That's just great." I gasped and then he said, "I'll tell you what we're going to do for you, we're going to give you four brand new tires for the cost of the warranty because these tires have been defective and while nothing bad has happened with them, we want our customers to be safe." And so, I got four brand new tires for only $38.09. Best part, the tires I had would have only been good for one more year and to replace them would have cost about $400.

I realize that it is a little bit sad to be thrilled about getting free tires. It's a sign that I am, unfortunately, grown up. Back when I was cool, I would have laughed at the girl-woman opening her eyes wide, looking at Mr. Discount Tire and saying, "This is such good news! You made my day!" (OK I must not be entirely uncool, because it's still a little funny to me that I did that.)

* While I was waiting for my four new tires to be installed, I decided to go to the Walgreens that's right across the street from the tire store. It was hot out and I wanted a bottle of water. So, I headed out the door and started walking down the hill. (Discount Tire is situated on a big hill) To get to the sidewalk, I had to walk down a too-steep grassy slope and then traverse a field of boulders. Then once I crossed the street I had to use my best rock climbing skills to descend the steep rocky wall and get to Walgreens (which happens to be in a valley of sorts). All of this made me realize how completely non-pedestrian friendly American cities have become. The designers of that corner of commerce clearly didn't even think about the poor stranded driver waiting for new tires... they couldn't imagine why anyone would want to cross eight lanes of traffic and climb down two steep hills only to have to climb up again. This is a testament to a) bad planning and b) the laziness of our society... we're completely reliant on cars.

* I was going to write about the terribly bitter coffee I drank this afternoon at work.. but it makes my tongue hurt to think about it.

More Things

I am surviving my lonely days so far. I have made it through three nights at home alone with relative success and am on my fourth day... which means I'm almost halfway finished with this living alone business... It's strange, I never minded being alone until I found the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with... Before, it was like there was the promise of finding that someone...so nights alone weren't so bad...Or maybe it was that I did not yet know what I was missing? But now, when Neil is away, I feel intensely lonely...and it's not just lonely for anyone.. I miss him. I want his company. I suppose all of this is good since we're married and all... but I hope we don't have too many more long stretches of time apart. It's very un-fun.

Wiley, one of my fabulous dogs, has been chewing on his foot for several weeks and in the last week, it has become red and puffy and he has started chewing the hair off his leg too. I got very worried and took him to a vet in Santa Fe while visiting my family on Saturday. They gave Wiley a steroid shot and an antibiotic shot and seven days worth of antibiotics that are nearly impossible for me to feed to him and they charged me something like $128, which I promptly put on my credit card since I'm very broke at the moment. I was promised that he would stop chewing his foot shortly and everything would be better. But, last night he was still chewing away. So, I called the friendly vet in Santa Fe this morning who has my money and talked to one of the doctors (not the one who saw Wiley) who told me that I definitly need to take Wiley back to the vet because he very possibly has something lodged in his foot like a cactus spike or fox tail and it needs to come out. I said ok, hung up and then realized that the doctor on Saturday didn't even LOOK at the foot to see if anything was stuck in it! Now I am mad... and I want my money back and an appology for giving my dog possibly unnecessary shots... but instead of driving an hour to demand this service, I am taking Wiley to our vet near home this afternoon. I just can't waste the time.

This past weekend, I rented Dirty Dancing Havanna Nights and while I was very wary of the movie and assumed it would suck, I love it. They should have given it a different name because, while similar, it is not just like the original Dirty Dancing...There's nothing like a happy movie with dancing and romance to cheer up a lonely night at home.

Things

It's almost the weekend, which, while normally exciting, is a little daunting this week for several reasons:

1) Neil is leaving for the Democratic Convention in Boston and I will be:
a) lonely
b) worried about him with the looming terrorism threats
c) lonely

2) I have a million errands to run and not a lot of money to complete the errands.

3) I have a ton of work to do at work and wish I could finish it before the weekend, but it
doesn't look likely...

That said, I AM hanging out with my brother on Saturday and I'm looking forward to that. No clue what we'll do, but I'm sure we'll find something fun.

Today was staff appreciation day at work. This day consists of each staff member recieving his or her favorite Starbuck's drink this morning, lunch from a good sandwich shop which is being delivered and ... BOWLING. Yup, from 2-5 we went bowling... it was fun, but the last thing I was excited about doing on a sunny summer afternoon is going to a dark, smoky bowling alley and putting my feet into those stinky shoes and my fingers into those dirty holes on the bowling ball... But we did have fun and in the end, i felt appreciated...

The Universe

Not long ago I read about an interesting daily e-mail service on my friend Robbe's blog. It sounded a little hokey, but I thought it couldn't hurt to try it out... it was hokey but intriguing. The e-mails are "Notes from the Universe" and they arrive in my inbox every morning. They are usually entertaining and occasionally they seem very poignant. I enjoy reading them and don't always take them too seriously... but check out what I got today:

Once you make-up your mind, jodi, and start something; really commit to it; say "YES!", and never look back.... Do you have any doubt, any doubt whatsoever, that I will not rush to your side?

That legions won't be summoned? That players won't be drawn to your corner? Connections made? Circumstances crafted? Dots connected?

That the course of history won't be irrevocably changed?

Good, I didn't think so.

I'd say you're ready,
The Universe

Now, maybe I am being like those nut cases on that psychic show that believe they're talking to their dead grandparents because John Edward says the person he's channeling liked to wear plaid.... but this note from the Universe seems really relevant given the fact that I was pondering my next move and have been trying to think of ways to do more of what I want to do and less of what I don't without risking everything. And now I know the Universe will rush to my side and conspire to make me successful... Of course, really I should always assume this... I should always be under the assumption that I can succeed if I try... but it's nice to be reminded, even if it is just some new-age healer guy writing these notes and cranking them out on his automated e-mail system every morning...

Breathing and Other Things of Import

Twice in the last several days, I have found myself having trouble getting deep enough breaths while at my desk in the afternoon. It happened first last Friday and I left early to get my inhaler (which I have for my VERY infrequent respiratory problems that occur while exercising) Today, I borrowed a co-worker's inhaler (I know.. not the best idea.. but it's the same as the one I have at home.) I am not too worried about this...yet. However, it is an incredibly humbling/frustrating experience to be literally gasping for breath. It makes me think about all of the potential failings of my body, all the little things my body does that I take for granted every day, all the ways in which my body and the systems it contains define me -- who I am and what I can do.

On the same tangent, I have found myself wondering about the bigger picture again lately... always a dangerous thought process on which to embark. I was thinking about the book, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. We read it in my 12th grade Humanities class and I can still see the teacher, Mr. Kurth, standing in front of the class pointing his finger at us and asking us if we were living our lives with quality. And I guess that for the past few days, I have been trying to answer this question. When you cut through all of the stuff and get down to the basics, am I living how I want to live? Am I having genuine experiences? Am I impacting people/the world in ways that I want to? Am I living deliberately? The answer to all of those questions is probably a little yes and a little no. As frustrating as this line of thought is, it's also important to end up here every so often. Reassessing one's life and the path one is on is a necessity because when we live without thinking about how we're living, we stand to miss out on many chances to live a quality life... If any of this ever makes any more sense to me, I will try to elaborate...

Meth Lab

I am convinced that there is a meth lab in my neighborhood. Nobody I tell this to believes me for a second, but I am absolutely convinced. For some time, I have been noticing a strange and repulsive smell in my backyard at night when I take the dogs out. It's not every night and it's only there fairly late at night. It completely penetrates the air and is untracable... as in, it's not coming from any direction in particular...it's just hanging there. I have been wondering and wondering what the smell was coming from and then last week I saw a news story on TV that began like this, "Neighbors in the blah blah neighborhood finally know what was making their neighborhood stink... Authorities busted a meth lab there this afternoon." This is when the light bulb went on. "Ah hah!" I said. "It's meth I've been smelling. Someone in my neighborhood is cooking meth at night."

I mentioned the bad smell to a neighbor over the wall the other day and he became very suspicious himself...I just said that there was this bad smell in the yard at night and did he have any idea what it was and he sort of gasped and said, "Do you think it's a meth lab?" right off the bat in a nervous manner... Now that everyone is suspect, I will have to stop discussing my theory with neighbors.

Yes, I might be insane and there could very well be another explanation. Perhaps we will never find out if there is a meth lab nearby.. or maybe we won't know until whatever house it is in blows up. I am definitly more than a little creeped out -- even if it's only a crazy theory I've cooked up... it seems very possible. Who knows what's lurking behind the walls in my little suburban neighborhood where everyone has matching houses and matching front yards and it's just a little too neat and clean for everything to be on the up and up...

Clarification

I want to clarify that I don't actually dislike all republicans. I have some very nice republican friends... however, the thought of being in a room with a bunch of republicans who have come together to BE REPUBLICAN.... (as I would be at the convention) is a little scary. I appologize for possibly offending any republican readers...

Republican dilemma
To go or not to go...

I have been presented with a very unique offer. I can pay $272 for a plane ticket to New York City and attend the Republican National Convention (with a press pass and everything). I will have my meals and hotel room paid for and my traveling companion will be none other than my fabulous husband. This all seems interesting... maybe even cool...except:

a) I don't like republicans

b) I don't have more time to take off work

c) We have to leave on this adventure five days after returning from a nine day vacation to Oregon... that means more leaving our dogs again and more kennel bills.

d) Did I mention that I really don't like republicans?

Despite all of these detractors, I am still strangely interested in going to what will undoubtedly be one of the most major targets of terrorism at that moment in time... Help. I should have made plans to go to Boston with Neil for the Democratic National Convention, but that is rapidly approaching and while I could still go, we would still have the problem of boarding the dogs, taking time off work and affording the travel... at least I like Democrats....

What I can't determine: Is this a once in a lifetime opportunity that I can't let myself miss out on? Or is this just an excuse to take an unplanned trip to New York...

I Don't Want to Know About It

Sometimes I think I have a sign on my forehead that reads "Tell me all the things that you wouldn't/shouldn't tell anyone else, burden me with your problems, ask me for advice -- that's why I'm here" or maybe it just says something more to the point like: "I have two functioning ears." Whatever the case, I am often the recipient of oversharing.

In job interviews, the prospective employer often blurts out things about how dumb the previous applicants were and how much better my answers were to the interview questions (yes, this really has happened to me). When checking out at the grocery store, it's not uncommon for me to learn all about the checker's grievance with the grocery store chain and the lack of vacation. And, it's a given that if someone in the office is crying, I WILL walk by their office just as they look up toward the door in the hopes that someone will come comfort them. I am that person, the listener, the comforter, the bringer of hugs, advice and reassurances. I don't really mind this roll all the time. I like to make people feel better. I like to be there for people (especially friends... the strangers really need to go find their own friends.) But sometimes too much of other peoples' problems can rain down on me and leave me feeling like everyone else's' problems are my own.

I am in that overwhelmed place right now because, far worse than dealing with strangers dumping their worries or inappropriate ramblings on me, sometimes people too close to me pull me into their problems and I am not even capable of being an objective observer -- I'm part of the situation. This is where I find myself right now... I may be great at advice... or maybe it's that I'm really sympathetic... I'm not sure why I am a magnet for venting of every kind... but I need a respite.

Maybe it's hard to believe, but despite the sign on my forehead, not even I have all the answers all the time.

Clean

On Saturday, we tried to go to the movies. About ten minutes into Spider Man 2 the projector broke. So, we ended up shopping for a while and then we went home and cleaned the house for four hours. Neil was not very happy about it. (Neither was I, to be honest, even if I did start it) But now, we have a clean house that I can't wait to get back to. There is something incredibly satisfying about working together to accomplish a physical task. It's so simple, yet so rewarding. And for about a week, our house will be clean and I'll be content coming home and doing things like reading and (gasp) writing because there won't be floors to mop and bathrooms that need cleaning and carpets that need vacuuming. Neurotic? Probably. A vehicle for procrastination? Absolutely. But no matter my personal neurosis -- there's nothing quite like a clean house.

Politics

It has been a while since I've written about politics, but I wanted to say that I am thrilled by John Kerry's choice for a running mate in John Edwards. Edwards is sunny and positive and personable. He's even...gasp... charismatic. He will bring to the Kerry campaign everything it has been lacking. (at least lots of things it has been lacking) Just seeing Edwards standing next to Kerry makes me so much more excited to vote for Kerry in November -- I sincerely hope it has a similar impact on other voters.

Rachel and I getting ready before her wedding last month 

Rachel looking beautiful... 

Things

The long weekend is over and after one full day of work, I am already completely unrested.

The weekend was good. We went to see the Flying Karamazov Brothers in their new show Life: A Guide for the Perplexed. It was thoroughly entertaining and thought provoking at the same time. I am not sure I wanted to think about juggling in so many new ways... but there you have it.

My grandma seemed to enjoy her 82nd birthday... the pancake breakfast was fun... but as I predicted, I didn't run into a single friend, only parents of friends and it felt a little lonely.

Random tangent: Britten is always saying how much she hates automatically flushing toilets.... and I never agreed with her before. I had fond memories of the automatic flush toilets in the O'Hare airport in Chicago. The major benefit as I see it: you don't have to touch anything that millions of other people have been touching with dirty hands. (yes, I am one of those people who uses my paper towel to open the bathroom door on my way out and would rather die than have to touch those trash cans with the flaps that need opening before you can throw out your trash... ) However, at the Lensic theatre on Saturday night, my opinion on these toilets completely changed. They are EVIL. I went to the bathroom during the intermission and as I stepped into the stall, Mr. Toilet started flushing like a maniac. It flushed when I shut the door, when I hung my purse on the hook...It was splashing water everywhere (and my aversion to all things dirty or possibly dirty didn't take kindly to the water spraying at me) To make a long story... well, longer... I decided I didn't need to go to the bathroom and I went back to my seat. Automatic toilets suck.

However, my new love is automatic soap dispensers.... They have them at the Omni Shoreham in D.C. and they're amazing. You get just the right amount of soap and you don't have to touch an old soap-and-dirt-encrusted soap dispenser to get it.

Apparently it's not only juggling that I've been giving too much thought as of late...

Mysteriously, I've had terrible headaches for the past three days. This is making me very cranky and less than productive. I hope they go away...

Drudgery

It's amazing how quickly after being away, one settles back into the same old routine. Sadly, all of the unexciting tasks that were plaguing me before I left town last Sunday are here waiting for me now that I am back. I wonder if anyone lives a life absent of drudgery. Is there anyone who has managed to cut through all the crap and focus only on the important tasks, the tasks that improve the world and make you feel alive? Probably not.


Tradition

On Sunday morning, I will wake up early, shower, get dressed in something I think is cute and head to the plaza in Santa Fe for the annual July 4 Pancake Breakfast. I cannot remember a year when I didn't wake up early to walk around and see old friends and eat the spongy pancakes and greasy sausage links. My friend Britten's dad always plays in the band, my grandma always sits in the front row by the stage to watch the music, I always get a little too much sun. We walk up the side street with all the old cars parked along it and say things like, "Look how old this one is." and "I would totally want this car." We always act amazed even thought it's highly likely we've seen these same cars every other year at the pancake breakfast.

One year, not too long ago, I spent the morning walking around with a group of friends who had all gathered to see Carl, our friend who was undergoing chemo and would later die because of the tumor growing in his brain. But on that July 4th, Carl was very much alive. I still have a picture from that day tacked to my refrigerator. Smiling friends with arms around each other, posing in front of the puppet show booth -- my arm, linked around Carl's back. Sometimes, I try to look at that picture and remember what that year felt like at the pancake breakfast, what that hug in the picture felt like, but as with most things, the memory has faded and melted into all the other years that I spent July 4 on the plaza.

There is something both sad and comforting about traditions. The comfort comes from repetition and predictability. The sadness from change. Carl is no longer at the annual breakfast, neither is my grandfather, or the rabbi who used to get up on stage and dance like crazy. Other people have moved away and don't make it a priority to visit over the July 4 holiday anymore. The city built a big gazebo on the plaza instead of just erecting the metal bandstand that they used every year of my childhood. And so on.

But even though things are changing and there may be a year soon when I do something entirely different on the 4th of July and don't even think about the gathering I'm missing in Santa Fe, this year, I will be loyal. I will eat the pancakes and sausage. I will look at the old cars. I will visit my grandma in the front row and wish her a happy 82nd birthday. I will listen to the patriotic music, spend too much time in the sun, and remember who I am and where I came from.

Herding Cattle

In Washington D.C., where I was for the past four days for work, I saw an old friend who helped remind me of a few things. First, seeing Robbe reminded me how great reconnecting with old friends can be. Second, seeing him reminded me how much fun we used to have being geeks in computer labs and putting out the crazy magazine he invented in college. And maybe, most importantly, seeing Robbe reminded me to slow down.

What? You may ask. Slow down? Let me explain. Robbe is probably the one person on the planet that I know who has more plans and dreams than anyone. And he somehow seems to get everything done that he wants to. He wanted to start a magazine in college: done. He wanted to start a company that designs websites: done. Wanted to be in an improv group: done. And so on. Naturally, I am incredibly impressed and had just assumed that he had somehow limitless energy and never slept.

Over lunch yesterday, I was telling him how I often feel like I need to be doing more and fast so that I can accomplish all the things in life that I want to. He told me he'd heard a saying that helped him a lot:

"The fastest way to move cattle...is s l o w"

And for the first time in a while, I got to take a deep breath.
(thanks, Robbe)


Big Winner

Last year, when I attend the same conference, but it was in Seattle, and I was new to the credit union industry, I sat through the entire awards luncheon and watched people receive glass awards and I vowed to return this year and win at least one.

On Tuesday night, during this year's awards presentation (which included an open bar) I drank my whiskey and coke and hoped to win in one of the four categories I'd entered. I did not expect to win three first place awards and the Best in Show award. Note: I did not do all the work on my own. One of the first place awards (best logo design) was entirely for my co-worker and the other three awards were for projects we worked on together. But it was SO cool.

Coolness factors:
1) It's always cool to win recognition for something you've worked hard on
2) I like awards
3) New Mexico never wins awards at these things and we won four
4) I became famous among the conference people and ended up talking to a lot of attendees I may not have otherwise talked to.

Not so cool:
Carrying home four heavy glass things on the airplane.


Communication, Baby

It was absolutely wonderful to be surrounded by 30 people from across the country who do my exact same job. It was great to see friends I made last year and also great to make new friends.

Being with the credit union association communications people was a bit like being with my writer friends at Bennington in that we are all obsessed with the same things.

For example: Ten otherwise hip people in their 20s and 30s were at a restaurant in Washington D.C. on a recent night proofreading the menu.

I can't wait until next June.

Miracle

We found her. Just when we were completely without hope and my parents had closed the garage door and I was about to slip on a dress for my friend Rachel's wedding rehearsal, we got a phone call. Animal control had a little dog with a red collar and a pink heart tag and they couldn't get close enough to read it, but they thought it was our dog. My heart jumped in my throat, I threw on some jeans and we flew out the door. My mom drove and Neil had the leash and pet carrier in the backseat. I tried to will the lights to turn green and my mom's foot to press harder on the gas pedal. We could not get there fast enough for me.

Animal Control is on the side of the animal shelter in Santa Fe. We got there and went in to find a room full of Animal Control officers and a woman on the floor with her back to us. In her lap, was our little dog. She was covered in burrs. There was not one part of her body that was white. She had burrs on her legs, her face, her tail...but when she saw us, she started wagging her tail. The Animal Control people helped us shave her to get all the burrs off and the shaving revealed lots of little cuts on her body. Her nose was dry and she seemed in pain but she was so happy that we were there and that the prickly burrs were being removed that she was calm while two people with electric clippers shaved her and I stroked her head to comfort her. Neil took her to the vet where she got checked out and stitched up and I went to the last few minutes of the wedding rehearsal.

Somebody had found Barbie in their backyard drinking their dogs' water. She was growling to keep the dogs away from the dish and was just drinking it like crazy. The man at the house could not get close enough to her to read her tag because she kept growling so he called animal control. We went to his house to thank him yesterday which felt really good. We also gave him $100 which he was reluctant to take, but said he'd donate to the animal shelter.

I still can't believe we have Barbie back. She looks like a mangy junkyard dog right now, but she's still adorable and she's started licking us again and all I can say is that it's a miracle. I don't often use that word and usually I don't think I believe in "miracles". But having my little five-pound dog home and alive after she was missing for five days during the heat of New Mexico summer with all the coyotes and hawks that live in Santa Fe definitely constitutes a miracle. There is no other word for it.

Wedding

Rachel and Brian's wedding was perfection. It was beautiful. They were beautiful. It made me cry. I felt pretty in my bridesmaid dress. The band was great. Everybody danced. The food was yummy. The flowers were awesome (oh how I wish I remembered to take my bouquet home). The cake was to die for. We didn't have to pose for too many pictures. We stayed till the end and wanted more. And two of my most favorite people got married. What an amazing couple. Oh, and it hailed for about five minutes... huge marble-sized hail in New Mexico in June...you can't get cooler than that.

Gone

As if my weekend could stand to get any worse. After Neil hurt his foot Saturday and we spent three hours in the emergency room and he had to get crutches and be in pain and my heart ached for him, on Sunday, Barbie got out of my parents' backyard and got scared and bit my dad really hard when he tried to catch her and then she ran away.

I searched in the open space behind my parents' house for five hours Sunday. I was wearing sandals and my feet became coated in stickers and thorns. My skin got burnt in the sun. My voice went hoarse from calling "Barbie" over and over and over again. We hung up signs, we knocked on doors. We talked to every person we saw. Nobody had seen her or heard her. None of the walkers with large dogs had noticed their dogs sniffing or barking. She was gone.

Yesterday, we went back and searched some more. Nothing. We have an ad in the paper. My dad has been to the pound. He's called animal control. He's put posters all over the neighborhood. Nothing.

My heart is broken. Wiley keeps looking for his sister and he's not eating. Neil is not only hobbling around on his hurt foot, but I think he is even sadder than he's letting on. I miss Barbie. I miss her sense of humor, her enthusiasm, her affection, the way she licked my face like crazy every morning when I woke up and when I moved her away from my face, she licked Neil's instead. I don't know how to make Wiley happy again and I feel terrible that he is at home alone right now while I am at work.

I keep hoping that my phone will ring and someone will tell me they found her and she's fine and that I can come pick her up. But nobody has called. I keep hoping she'll show up in my parents' garage and drink the water and eat the food we put out for her... but the food is still there and the water bowl is full.

More About Rebecca

I found better links for my friend who died last weekend. Picture. Article.

Business

Today, tomorrow and Saturday, I will be working at my company's annual convention. 250 people in the industry will be arriving at the convention hotel today and then they will expect to be shown a good time. I am one of 11 people here to show them that good time. I have to dress business-like and act business-like and be business-girl. Tomorrow, we're going to a baseball game and I don't even think I can wear my traditional jeans and t-shirt to the game... augh. Business...

Sometimes, when I'm in the thick of it, going to meetings, picking up guest speakers from the airport, expressing my opinions on the importance of some new initiative or another, I think to myself, "I can keep doing this and some day I can be CEO or something and get paid a lot of money."

When I have my senses returned to me I think, "I have got to find a way to spend more of my time being creative and less of my time wearing suits."

Here's to three days of business.

Wish me luck.

Dead

Ronald Reagan died last weekend. Despite being an avid Democrat, I used to love Ronald Reagan. I had Reagan stickers when I was little and I idolized him. Perhaps it had something to do with my being so young that I had not yet developed a political consciousness. I just knew that you were supposed to look up to the president -- and he had a nice face and kind manner.

Because of my childhood adoration, I am unable to judge his presidency without bias. But whether he was good or bad or someplace in between, it is sad that he is gone.


Worse news came last night when I learned that a family friend killed herself over the weekend. To the younger and less self-assured person (me), Rebecca seemed to have it all. She worked as a writer for a magazine, had dated a member of the Chicago cubs, was skinny, beautiful, funny, fun to be around, kind, had an amazing family, lit up the room when she walked in...I wish she could have seen herself the way I saw her. I wish she was still alive. I hope her family finds strength to get through this. I wish there was something I could say, but as is sometimes the case, words fail.

It's Hot

On Saturday, we went to visit my family in Santa Fe. We took the dogs and hung out at my parents' house for a BBQ lunch. My brother is home for the summer and he and my dad are home alone while my mom visits family in Michigan. Lunch was good. My dad bought special salmon that you can only get three weeks a year from some famous river I've never heard of and it was delicious. We all sat and talked in the backyard for a while after lunch while my brother tried to get a screen door to fit on the outside door to his bedroom. Sawdust was flying all over the patio in the wind and Buffy, the Labrador retriever, tried to eat it. My dogs kept barking at Buffy and nipping at him. It was one big happy gathering. But then we went inside. First Dustin was on one couch, then Neil was on another and my dad was in the recliner and I found myself splayed out on the floor, resting on a big turtle pillow, flanked by two little dogs. It must have been 2:30. The next thing we knew it, it was 5.

There is something inherently unsatisfying by a heat-induced nap and I think it's that when you wake up it's no cooler than it was before you fell asleep. However, the nap was not without its merits. There is something very cool about napping with company. Whether it's just me and Neil napping or whether it's a group nap like we had on Saturday...even though everyone was sleeping, when we woke up it felt as though we had shared something. We were all guilty of mid-afternoon laziness. It was much more satisfying than waking up from a nap alone and feeling like you are the only one who slept the day away. Group napping alleviates the guilt of the nap. It normalizes it. Napping in groups makes napping ok.

Clearly I have given this a bit too much thought...

It's going to be a hot summer and I foresee more naps in my future -- hopefully, when I nap, I will have company.

The Backyard

Last night, I spent a lovely two hours in the backyard. It was just me and my two dogs taking in the sunset and early twilight. I sat in the lounge chair and noticed the temperature change from hot to warm. When the crickets started chirping, Wiley and Barbie went hunting for them, but gave up quickly when their noses hit the rock wall that the bugs must have been hiding beneath.

I chatted on the phone with several different friends and even conversed briefly with my dad. I read the mail, mostly junk. And saw the moon come up above my house full and bright.

Two hours passed.

Then I saw Neil through the sliding glass door. He opened the door for me and I FINALLY got to go inside.

Yep, that's right, my backyard adventure was more along the lines of backyard exile. Brilliant Jodi locked herself and the dogs out of the house. I had a key to the mailbox, the back gate, my grandma's house, my parents' house and my office. But I was mysteriously missing my house key, my garage door key and my car key.

It had been a while since I'd spent so much time just existing outside. I have been walking and bike riding, but not just sitting. While, I was thoroughly annoyed at my stupidity and desperately wanted to get indoors, I also enjoyed my time outdoors. I watered the trees, smelled their flowers and actually relaxed since there was nothing else I could do.

Errand for the weekend: Invest in a spare key. Find a good hiding spot.

Iowa

In Iowa, they don't put fences up in the backyards. Instead, everyone's yard is one big lawn for little kids to play on. This is the main thing I noticed about Iowa while there for four days last weekend. There are rolling hills, lots of green, and communal backyards, save one or two yards with fences -- but the fence owners look like the party poopers.

Iowa is quiet and farm-filled and I imagine it being a very nice place to grow up or to raise a family, but I'll take my desert life over a life in Iowa any day.

Wedding

I was in the great state of corn fields and The Iowa Writers Workshop with a higher purpose. I went to wear a little pink dress and stand up in Jenn's wedding. The wedding was beautiful. Jenn had thought of everything and even the place cards, with little dance steps printed on them, were perfect. My roll in the wedding (walking down the aisle, posing for pictures, attending events, smiling) went well. I think I fulfilled all the bridesmaid commitments. Even the shoes were more comfortable than I imagined and I ended up dancing more than I normally do at such occasions. Looking at the pictures that we had developed on Sunday, I didn't look particularly thin in the dress. I imagined myself to look a little better while I was wearing the dress... but oh well.

I got to see Patty and Sean which was awesome and great and worth every penny and any inconvenience. I also saw our friend Scott for a brief moment when he drove to the party from Chicago. Reuniting with old college friends was very good.

On our way home, we got stuck in Denver overnight after multiple delays and a mad dash through the Denver airport. It took us more than 24 hours to get home from the time we set foot in the Eastern Iowa Airport. At first I was really pissed and I thought it may not have been worth the trip. But thinking a little more rationally, I think the reconnecting with old friends made it worthwhile as did one moment on Saturday night:

Jenn and Bill's first dance was to a U2 song. Since I was seated at the head table, I had an excellent view. In the eight years I've known Jenn, I don't think I've ever seen her happier than she was during that dance. I don't know Bill very well and I haven't had the chance to see the two of them together much, but watching that dance and seeing the happiness radiate from them, I knew that my friend Jenn had made a really good choice in Bill. And knowing that made the whole weekend a success.

Baby

Neil's best friend and his wife had a baby this week. (on Monday night, I think) Neil's friend is the crazy type. In fact, my friends and I nicknamed him The Naked Sleeper, which we later learned was a misnomer, but still, it typifies him. He's a really wonderful person, just always a bit further to the wild side than most. Throughout the pregnancy, he has been calling Neil and blurting out bizarre baby facts. Usually they are along the lines of "Do you know they poop about 10 times a day!" So, I was a little concerned. But, Neil talked to him today and he said that having the baby is amazing. He held her for the first five minutes before his wife woke up (c-section) and the baby grabbed his finger and he said it was the coolest thing. I am really happy that he's so happy and I'm really excited for the Naked Sleeper, his wonderful wife and his new baby. I can't wait to meet her.

Dumbed Down

So, McDonald's has an adult happy meal. When I first heard this I thought it was a joke, a news bit from The Onion or something. But, the adult happy meals are the real deal. They come with a salad and a water (but what nobody tells you is that if you ask for Coke instead, they'll give it to you.) The meals also come with your own "stepometer" so you can count your steps each day and know whether you've taken enough to work off that Big Mac.

O.K. what was wrong with the previous sentence? If you said the word "stepometer" you are correct. What they are actually called, those little things that count your steps for you, are pedometers. I guess McDonald's thought that the word pedometer was too complicated and instead of taking the opportunity to teach the world a new word, they decided to make up their own word. Adults may be smart enough to know they should eat salads, not burgers.. but there's no way they'll know what pedometer means. The worst part of all this is that it took me a while to realize that the corporate drones had dumbed down their happy meal prize. My co-worker showed me her stepometer and I found myself thinking, "Stepometer? Isn't it called something else? What is it called? Hmm... I guess it is a stepometer." Not only is McDonald's pandering to the small-vocabulary customers, but they're confusing the ones with bigger vocabularies. They are singlehandedly changing the English language with their stupid stepometers.

To top it off, the little contraptions don't work. They count two steps for every one you take. Come to think of it, this could be a ploy to keep Americans fat. Yes, I will admit that I had an adult happy meal last week and the cobb salad was pretty tasty. But now that I've been dumbed down by McDonald's, I won't be having another one.

The Gas Station

Yesterday, my gas light came on. I had been doing my best to save gas in the hopes that the prices would go down and I could avoid wasting money feeding the Republican oil machine...but I had to break down and go to the gas station. I went to Chevron because it was on my way back to work after lunch. I got out, put my card in the card reader and started pumping when a loud noise blared at me from speakers in the gas pump. I jumped a foot in the air and whirled around to see that there was a little TV screen playing the news.

First thought: How cool that I can watch the news while pumping gas.
Realization: It's FOX news.
Next thought: Who owns Chevron and why are they shoving this conservative propaganda down my throat?

To make matters worse, a commercial for some glass cleaner came on almost instantly after my little TV turned on. As soon as the tank was full and the pump clicked off, the TV turned off so I didn't even get to finish watching the commercial. What if they had been in the middle of a really interesting news segment and it had clicked off? I think these little TVs are worse than no TV at all.

Oh, and then my gas bill was $22 and it used to cost around $14 to fill up my tank. Gotta love wars over oil.

Angel

Last night was the series finale of Angel. This is a bummer because that means next year I will end up watching something like The Bachelor religiously, having lost my favorite two shows (first Buffy and now Angel). I don't think I have ever been this into a television show since Doogie Houser.

The Angel finale was ok. But sort of disappointing because everything didn't wrap up perfectly. Everybody didn't live happily ever after and I don't like a whole lot of realism in my entertainment.

That guy who had his finger bitten off at the zoo

I was distraught last week when I couldn't link to the story about the zoo visitor whose finger was bitten off by a Jaguar at our zoo. Luckily, the story was so bizarre it made the CNN Offbeat News section. So, go here to read about it. Enjoy.

Iraq

I stumbled upon two Iraqi blogs recently. I think they're being kept by brothers, one of whom lives in Iraq and another, who seems to be living somewhere else in the middle east. Their mom is also keeping a blog, but it is in Arabic and my limited knowledge of Hebrew doesn't help me decipher it at all. Raed and Majid both seem like very intelligent individuals. They also seem like people I might be friends with. Majid's insights about the war and what is happening in his country are striking, especially since he's only 17.

Reading these blogs made me feel several ways. The overwhelming feeling I had was stregnthened conviction that the U.S. troops need to get out of Iraq as quickly as possible.
I also felt guilty that, while I think about the war quite a bit, it is not everpresent in my mind. I have only bloged about it once in a while. Raed and Majid are in the middle of war and they blog about it nearly every post. Another feeling I had while reading the blogs was sadness. Majid wrote about hearing tanks driving by his house in the middle of night and being terrified that he was about to be killed. He also wrote about a classmate who got up in the middle of an exam and asked why he was studying when he might be dead tomorrow. The fact is, the U.S. army, while they may not be trying to kill civilians, are killing and maiming far too many innocents. The country is too unstable and out of control for our army to be occupying it. We have provoked too much hatred to be successful leading the Iraqi people.

Majid wrote that the Iraqi people were going through an amazing time before the U.S. invasion, a renaissance of sorts, and they should have risen up against Saddam on their own. We can't know if and when the Iraqi people would have staged an uprising, but when you look at this war and realize it was not about WMD's and it wasn't about protecting the U.S. from terrorists and the only thing it could have been about was oil and Bush family revenge, it is even more depressing to realize that the one positive thing that could come of the war, a free Iraq without the Saddam dictatorship, is being shoved down the country's collective throat by people many of them view as bullies. We are not the knight on a white horse. Instead of peace and harmony, my country has brought instability to the country of Iraq and to the lives of its people. No wonder so many of them hate us.

It is so good to hear the voices of Iraqis without the filtering of the media. Iraqi blogs should be required reading for our foreign policy makers... (But not the president, he probably wouldn't read them since he doesn't even read the newspaper.)

Thanks Raed and Majid.

Monday Again

How did it become Monday again so quickly? Do you ever want to push the pause button? I think I saw an after school special once about a girl who could slow time and walk around in the world while everyone else was frozen in place. In order to accomplish everything I want to, I would like to have that talent. Maybe it would come in a locket or a super high-tech car stereo and when I pressed mute everyone else would slow down...

The Weekend

Sort of a quiet weekend. Neil was gone on Saturday and I took the dogs to a groomer who shaved too much fur off their butts so now they look a tad funny. Grr.

Sunday, Neil and I decided we wanted to do lots of things together before he had to go to work, so we woke up relatively early and went to brunch at Copelands, my formerly new favorite restaurant. They have a jazz brunch and we wanted to try it... but we got there too early for the jazz. My eggs benedict was delicious and Neil's french toast was good except that they didn't have any maple syrup and expected him to eat it with strawberry syrup which he hates. (totally bizarre to serve french toast with no syrup in the entire restaurant right?) But then we got in the car to go home and found ourselves utterly exhausted. We went home, let the dogs outside and then put them in bed with us and proceeded to nap until about 10 minutes before 2 when Neil jumped out of bed and went to work. We were utterly powerless and had to surrender to sleep. We have decided that there were sleeping pills in the food and that we will refrain from brunching there again. It's back to Sunday morning smoothies for us.

Lesson: Beware of making plans for Sunday after brunch.

Friday

It's Friday.

My friend Andy sent me a link today that made me a little sad. Basically it is a gossip column with an item about my old professor who is now dead. The item in the column is cute/funny and not at all offensive, but it reminded me of Lucy Grealy and what a fascinating/awe-inspiring/perfectly-imperfect person she was. It also reminded me of how sad it was to witness her falling apart from afar and how I wish I could have told her how she inspired me before she disappeared. Sometimes it's nice to feel a little sad about things worthy of sadness... if that makes any sense. (thanks for sending it Andy)

Disturbing things are afoot all over the world today. My ritual afternoon visit to cnn.com provided me with the following headlines: Castro leads huge anti-American march in Cuba; Running battles rage on the streets of Najaf; U.S. arrests dozens in child porn crackdown; Oil prices spurt to all-time high; British editor quits after abuse photos deemed fake

I was particularly struck by the Cuba article and the accompanying picture displaying Bush in a Hitler-style moustache next to signs with swastiks. What the hell is going on in this world?

To top off my day of bizarre news, the front page story on today's Albuquerque Journal has the following headline: Finger Found Near Zoo Cage. Apparently a man in his 50s who visits a jaguar everyday might have left a few digits behind. But he's denying it. WHY would you try to hide the fact that you got your hand eaten by a large zoo animal??? I think you may need a subscription to read this story, which is very unfortunate because it's really fascinating...

It's sunny and warm here and I'm looking forward to a relaxing weekend. I plan to avoid the news as much as possible.

Barbie and Wiley with a little more hair. Having dogs is so much fun. 

One of Those Days

Last night at 2:48 a.m. someone called Neil's cell phone. I didn't actually hear it ring, but I remember looking at the clock and hearing the dogs move around in their bed and wondering what was going on. For the rest of the night, I had restless sleep. I was worried that something else was going to wake me up, and thus, couldn't fall asleep.

At 7, my alarm went off and then I began the frenzy of taking dogs outside, hugging Neil, getting showered and dressed.... Right before I left, Barbie threw up outside which made me feel worried because this is the second time this week she's been sick in the morning. Ugh. I left with no breakfast and raced to work.

Then to top off the morning of calamity, Neil just called to tell me his sister was mugged last night at knifepoint which is absolutely terrifying and I really really really hope she's ok. Should I call her?

Aside from all the chaos, I'm still in a pretty good mood, the reason for which is beyond me...

Last night I watched the last ten minutes of American Idol (America clearly has hearing problems because they voted off the wrong girl, AGAIN) and the last 15 minutes of the Bachelor (such a spectacle...where do they find these girls???) and now I feel like I need to go read some Foucault to mend my brain cells... But maybe getting to work will help in that department...

Map

create your own personalized map of the USA

I had a map posted here, but it was too big and messed up the rest of my template so it has been removed) This is a map of all the states I have been to. It is way more impressive than I thought it would be. I thought I was severely lagging on seeing the country. But apparently, I have only 18 states to go. Then, on to conquer the world...

Free Rent

There was this 20-something couple in NYC and they were having a contest to see who would get to live at their apartment for six months for free. Plus, the lucky person would get a $5,000 stipend to offset the cost of moving to the city. All entrants had to do was write a 350-word essay about why they wanted to move to New York and mail it along with $69!!! to the couple. The contest was only going to be carried out if the couple got 3,000 entries... This means that after the $5,000 prize to the winner, the couple would be clearing $200,000 in entry fees. What an amazing scam! I wish I'd thought of that the summer my college roommates and I had the subletters from HELL in our super-cool Evanston apartment..

Unfortunately, it seems as though something went awry, because the contest has been called off... I thought it was too good to be true... I also thought my friend Sean could have totally won... but oh well... he'll have to wait for some other crazy New Yorker to hold a contest to find subletters.

The Bath

The weekend was good. Friday was an Isotopes game and we got free glow in the dark baseballs. Very cool. We also went to the game with our friends Ryan and Shea who are really really cool and it's nice to finally have a couple friend that we do things with fairly regularly. It's taken us a long time to become friends with them, but we really have a good time together. Maybe they'll be the Christina and Bobby of Albuquerque... (but never a Christina and Bobby replacement).

On Saturday, we took the dogs to visit my parents and grandma for an early mother's day. It was nice and relaxing, except for the 45 minutes during which my 6lb dogs decided it would be really fun to take on my parents' 75lb lab. They were so mean to him and he just put his tail between his legs because he didn't want to hurt them. My dad kept calling Wiley and Barbie terrorists and telling me that my "furry brother's" feelings were hurt, which made me feel sufficiently guilty.

Yesterday was a typical slow Sunday. Neil and I went to lunch and the server gave me a Mother's Day carnation...I didn't know if I should have taken it as a compliment or as an insult so I just took the flower home and put it in water.

Last night, I decided that the dogs needed a bath. After calling all over town and learning that groomers require you to leave your dog for four hours just for a bath and brushing, I determined that I would have to do it myself, so I went to Petsmart and bought shampoo for white dogs. Around nine I was finally finished with everything else I needed to do and I took the dogs in the bathroom with me, filled up the tub and did the bathing. First of all, the dogs looked like skinny rats when wet. Their hair went from white to see-through and their pink and brown spotted skin looked hilarious. In addition to looking funny, they were pissed. Also, I had no idea what I was doing. I read the grooming section in the Maltese magazine I bought a few weeks ago and tried following instructions, but it was a joke. Wiley jumped out of the tub at one point and shook all over the bathroom. I just sat there wondering what the hell I was doing with two dogs and furthermore, what possessed me to try to wash them. But once we got all the shampoo rinsed out and the two dogs started to dry off and forgive me for the ordeal, they turned into little white fluff balls. Their fur turned at least three shades lighter and four times fluffier. They must have been filthy. With their new clean coconut-scented coats, came really cheery attitudes and they started chasing me all over the house and jumping up and down. Then, magically, Wiley suddenly learned how to fetch the miniature tennis balls we got them a month ago. I had no idea how much joy watching a little dog learn to play catch could bring... or bathing a dog for that matter.

So the question is: Is my mothering instinct kicking in? Answer: maybe a little bit, but only for the dogs. No kids yet. I'm still a little too selfish for the next step.

Jealousy

When I was a student at The Bennington Writing Seminars, I had a professor named George Packer. He was, for the most part, kind and wise. His critiques of my writing were gentle, yet helpful. He encouraged me to become the best writer I could be, and while I am not there yet, I am on the path in part, because of George.

At the end of my final semester in grad school, I got my evaluation from George and it said something about how I was a good writer and had shown progress, but perhaps I was too young to be in the program in the first place. This is, of course, an oversimplification, but at the time, I cried and he changed the final evaluation to not say anything about his belief that I was just a little kid who didn't belong in a graduate writing program. While I am certain that he didn't mean to destroy me the night before graduation, that is pretty much the impact he had.

It has been about a year and a half since graduation, and I thought I had forgiven George Packer. I had mainly good thoughts about him on the rare occasions I thought about him, usually while writing or thinking about reporting. But last week my copy of Mother Jones came in the mail and his name was on the cover next to a headline about blogs: The Revolution Will Not Be Blogged. Sensing that this article was going to say something negative about blogging, an activity I have been participating in more and more, I cringed slightly. I also felt an unexpected twinge of the green monster(aaak I can't believe I just used that cliche) of jealousy. So, I waited a day to read the article and then plopped on my couch one evening and opened the magazine in hopes of liking the article. But I didn't. It wasn't even that it was so good I was jealous. It just wasn't very good. In November, George wrote an amazing article about Iraq for the New Yorker that any writer would be awed by...But this Mother Jones story about blogging was really disappointing.

While it wasn't terrible, it just didn't say anything terribly new. Everyone knows that blogging can be very insulated and is often very introspective. Even political blogs are often about riding on the campaign bus, or some other less interesting event than going door to door or making a campaign stop. And certainly being in Iowa during the primaries would be better than reading about the primaries on political blogs, but I would argue that being there would be better than reading about the primaries in the New Yorker as well. A blogger who went to Iowa is definitely more qualified to then blog about Iowa, but there is nothing about the nature of blogging that makes blogging and good reportage mutually exclusive.

It seemed to me that George was trying his best to write about something happening in pop culture and political culture right now, but he couldn't really diss blogs because he likes them. I don't think the people at Wonkette are aspiring to win a Pulitzer... It's a different genre, with a different intent and that made George's point unnecessary, invalid even. The goal of a political blog is usually not to be like the Washington Post. But if that were the goal, I have no doubt that some of the more astute bloggers could pull it off.

Whatever the case, I will continue to be a fan of my friend George... And it was nice to see that he is human and not everything he puts on paper (or in national magazines) is awe-inspiring.

Wiley and Barbie, the dogs we adopted. This is the photo of them in their rescue home when they didn't have any hair. 

Wires

I am wondering if going to the neighborhood park everyday and sitting underneath the power lines for five minutes with the dogs is going to come back to haunt me. The fact that I am wondering this is frustrating. Shouldn't we be able to live our lives without frequently fearing that whatever we are doing might eventually cause cancer?

Shame

I am so ashamed. For the past several days, the pictures of American soldiers abusing Iraqi prisoners have been everywhere. They scream out from newspaper pages and television screens. Last night it was while on the Precor at the gym that I was subjected to them. All I can feel when I think about that smug female soldier gamely posing for pictures that are now helping to cement her country's position as the enemy of the world is how ashamed I am to be an American.

It's not often that I allow myself to get swept up in nationalism or national sentiment. I don't usually feel anything as "an American". I feel things as Jodi, an individual who lives in the U.S. In fact, I am more apt to identify with being a New Mexican than and American. After the September 11 attacks, I was completely embarrassed when I found myself compelled to stop at Wal-Mart in the middle of the night to purchase an American flag...I had no idea that there was latent patriotism within me.

This doesn't mean that I don't love my country. I do. This also doesn't mean that I don't want to make my country better. I do. I follow politics avidly and vote regularly...I just don't often get sentimental about my nationality.

But right now, I feel ashamed and outraged as an American. It was bad enough that we were fighting a war that we started needlessly. It was bad enough that Americans and Iraqis were dying daily. But for stupid Americans to be committing war crimes and abusing prisoners while fighting an unjust war... and they took pictures!

How can we possibly expect to make friends with the Arab world if we behave like this? How can the president get on TV and preach about how inhumane terrorists are when some blond American chick is being shown on televisions across the world mocking naked prisoners of war? If we are also monsters, why should they cease to hate us?

Maybe those soldiers somehow believed that the prisoners represented all of the September 11 hijackers... maybe they thought that Arab men deserved to suffer humiliation because of what America has suffered. Maybe they're really nice people who got caught up in the ugliness of war. It is all possible, but I think that everyone responsible for the terrible acts in that prison should be held accountable not only for the acts themselves, but also for the severe damage those acts have done to the nation.

We went to Iraq with the "intention" of benevolently giving them a democracy and removing their evil leader. Yet, more than a year later, we are still in Iraq. We are killing people and, apparently, torturing prisoners. Some Iraqi citizens describe the American occupation as worse than living under Saddam. If this is how it's going to be, they say, they don't want democracy at all. (Did we even ask them if they wanted a democracy in the first place?)

Selfishly, I worry about what those torture pictures mean for me, an American and a Jew. Have I unwittingly become one of the most hated people in the world? Quite possibly. Should I pay for billboards in Arab countries to try to tell them that most of us don't hate them at all? (Americans and Jews) I want to tell them not to let a few bad apples shape their view of us. "Give us another chance," I want to say. But why should they?

We are in a dangerous time. We were already in a public relations quagmire just by being in this war. Now we are in quicksand and sinking rapidly. And as is so often the case, there is nothing I can do about it. But I can feel ashamed. And I do.

Half-Birthday

Happy half-birthday to me! Neil says it would be thrilling that today's my half-birthday if we celebrated half-birthdays... He may not celebrate them, but I do! So, I will go around feeling a little bit more special today because it's my half-birthday.

Camp Kamaji

A couple of weeks ago, the CEO and I were talking about something related to work when suddenly she mentioned her all-girls summer camp and I said:

"You didn't go to Camp Kamaji did you?"

To which she replied with a gaping mouth, wide eyes and a gasp.

She's probably the age of my parents, but yet we still have some very similar childhood memories of our camp and canoe trips in the Canadian Boundary Waters and the color tribes of Camp Kamaji.

Today, she brought in her sweater from camp with all the camp patches on it. By the time I was a camper there, patches had been phased out in favor of paper wallet-sized cards asserting that you had indeed passed on to the next level of sailing...

But how crazy is it that she grew up in the Midwest someplace and I in New Mexico and we both attended a girls camp in Minnesota!

It's always good to find commonalities with one's boss.

Commas

I hate commas. Not because I think they aren't useful, but because I can't seem to make myself learn how to use them. Sure, I have the basics down, but I often leave them out completely or put one too many when my sentences become more complicated... I have a journalism degree and an MFA in writing, but punctuation always manages to trip me up... so I was pleased this morning to learn that the nation's most hallowed newspaper ran this outstanding Op-Ed about how those punctuation sticklers should relax a little and let language change... ahh how refreshing..

Confession

O.K. I confess...I have no clue what I want to be when I grow up. I don't know where I want to live. I don't know what I want to do with my days. I am clueless. Is this ok? Am I defective? I'm playing at this grownup life, but I'm really terrified. I have vague ideas about my future:

*I want to be somewhere that I can be paid to write, or I want to be in the position where I don't need to be paid and I can write.

*I want to be with Neil.

*I want to be in a city with lots of young people, but I also don't want to live like a poor college student again. So, I would like to live in a house that happens to be in the middle of a hip urban area. (yeah right, right?)

*I want to have adventures. (foreign travel, outdoor activities etc.)

*I want to see everything.

*I want to make an impact.

*I want to be a part of my community.

But what does all that stuff add up to? I have no clue. Am I doing things right now that will help me get to wherever it is I want to be? I'm not sure.

In some ways, I am content in my job and my house and my little life here in NM, but in other ways, I am crawling out of my skin to be someplace/somebody that right now, I am not.

I want to have a settled little home with my bunny and my dogs. I want to curl up with Neil on cold nights and I want us to both be wearing slippers and flannel pj's. And yet, I want to be living in the center of it all, surrounded by life and energy.

How do I reconcile the homebody with the adventurer in me? How do I figure out what will ultimately make me happy?

Ahhh... Maureen...

Yesterday, on Neil's birthday, Maureen Dowd out did herself again with a brilliant column on Bushworld. The administration's alternate universe was laid bare in her column and again, I am so jealous! I could have written that! (If I were completely steeped in politics)

Here's a snippet in which she touches on the soldier remains issue I was steaming over last week:


April 25, 2004
OP-ED COLUMNIST
The Orwellian Olsens
By MAUREEN DOWD

It's their reality. We just live and die in it.

In Bushworld, our troops go to war and get killed, but you never see the bodies coming home.

In Bushworld, flag-draped remains of the fallen are important to revere and show the nation, but only in political ads hawking the president's leadership against terror.

In Bushworld, we can create an exciting Iraqi democracy as long as it doesn't control its own military, pass any laws or have any power.

In Bushworld, we can win over Falluja by bulldozing it.

More...

If only Maureen's columns were required reading for every American.

Neighborhood

More tales from the neighborhood.

On our walk yesterday, Barbie, Wiley and I met some kids in the park. I walk the dogs through the park every day so they can run on the grass and this was the first time we saw anyone there. At first I was concerned. The kids had a couple skateboards and a random collection of garden tools. "Vandals!" I thought as we approached. Two of the four kids were closer to the path we were walking on and they asked if they could pet my dogs. I made introductions and the kids started telling me about their dogs, current and deceased. They must have been about 10 or 11 years old and after talking to them for a few minutes, I realized that they were not the hoodlums I suspected them to be. Their two friends were working on something across the field and I asked them what they were doing in the park.

"We're building a baseball field," one of the boys said.

"Oh, cool," I said as I began to notice carefully placed mounds of sand in the grass that must have been the bases.

"Yeah, we built one before, but someone took it down," the other boy said. "It might have been the guy who mows the grass. We also built some skate ramps over there, but they took those down too."

I admired their sitck-to-it-ivness and told them I wished them luck on the baseball diamond.

Shortly thereafter, I continued my walk, passing out of the park and noticing the tallest boy using sidewalk chalk to construct a scoreboard on the rock wall bordering the park. As we passed them, I couldn't help but to giggle because it was impossibly cute that they were building a baseball field and because I could just imagine the conversation at the next neighborhood association meeting:

Secretary: "Agenda Item number one: Park vandals. Someone has been vandalizing the community park. Piles of sand were on the grass and the wall has been marked up with chalk."

President: "Clearly this is a serious issue and we need to get to the bottom of this. We need to find out who wants to harm our neighborhood and why..."

And so on...

Being pro-kid and very anti-neighborhood association, I did my part and encouraged them to build the field. That's what kids do and really, it's a pretty boring park. Two slabs of grass and a dirt path...A baseball diamond with sand for bases would be a big improvement. I hope it's all still there when I walk through this evening.

The Government is So Stupid

It makes absolutely no sense that the U.S. government is not allowing any images of bodies returning home from Iraq and Afghanistan to be shown in the news. When I first heard this, I imagined that they were shielding the public from gruesome images of mangled soldiers. But, no, the government actually doesn't want me to see flag-draped caskets. The government doesn't want me to even think about the fact that some soldiers are coming home dead.

Bravo to First Amendment activist, Russ Kick who filed a freedom of information request with the military and received hundreds of pictures from the largest military morgue which he then posted on his website. (and now some of them are on CNN's website)

The military argues that the families of the soldiers deserve to be the first to see them, but when there are dozens of matching caskets lined up in a room, isn't that more about making a statement than it is about me actually seeing these dead soldiers? I have no clue who is in each box and family members of the deceased don't know either, but isn't it important for us to see soldiers coming home just like we see them boarding planes and leaving? The government isn't protecting the soldiers' families, it's protecting its own ill-conceived war and keeping its citizens in the dark.

Thank goodness for Kick and Tami Silicio, a military contractor who took a picture of a casket being loaded into a cargo plane that was later published on the front page of The Seattle Times. Silicio got fired and Kick has prompted the military to crack down on information release, but at least there are finally a few pictures out there and since the military is making such a big deal about it, maybe even more people will see them.

Wind

Ok, so I just got out of my car after lunch and got pounded so hard by the wind that I almost had my breath knocked out of me. This should not happen. Maybe if I were on the top of a really tall mountain, I could understand, but in the parking lot of my office?

What's worse is that along with the pounding my body took, I also got a dust shower. Yummm.

Travel

Neil has been Mr. Jetset the past two weeks. He was in Alabama all weekend until Tuesday night and tomorrow he leaves at an ungodly hour to go to Washington D.C. Being home alone with the dogs and bunny wasn't so bad. I actually felt a lot less lonely than I usually do when Neil's gone. But, despite my appreciation of the companionship I get from my new family members, they really don't make up for Neil being gone. This, I think, is a very good thing. Pets should never serve as husband replacements.

Tired

I am so tired. I have literally been nodding off at my desk this morning which never happens to me anymore. I feel like I'm in my college sociology class. The one that was right after lunch... Augh...

It's Friday and it's super-sunny outside and I'm wearing sandals and I really really want to get up, go to my car, and head home.

Neighborhood

Now that I have dogs to walk after work, I have a reason to explore my neighborhood. Last night, I got home a little late and the sun was already beginning to set, but I took the dogs out to walk anyway. We walked on the edge of the neighborhood until we got to our subdivision park (built on the land under the power lines because nobody would want to live there). At the park, we turned onto the dirt path along the grass and started walking and then, the dogs discovered the grass. Barbie started sniffing and snorting and Wiley followed suit and then something magic happened. They both got really playful and started running... We sprinted back and forth and back and forth together. It was hilarious and I actually got a little exercise.

On our way home from the park, we cut through the neighborhood and came across a police officer pulling into his driveway. When we got to his car, he was getting out so I said hello... and he started up a conversation about the dogs and the neighborhood and how he doesn't know his neighbors and on and on. He was really nice and his name is Renee. So now I know about three people in the neighborhood, which is not great, but it's better than it was when I knew only one This getting out with the dogs is going to be good in more ways than one.