Oh my goodness, just let her stay here!

When I read stories like this, I never understand how anyone wouldn't want to allow this woman to stay in the U.S. And then I think about how a big part of me wants to move back to the U.S./Mexico border so that I can witness/document the plight of immigrants. It is so important...


MEXICO CITY, Mexico (AP) -- He's a serious 7-year-old on a mission to save his mom.

Four-foot-tall second-grader Saul Arellano, a U.S. citizen, was to stand before 500 members of the lower house of the Mexican Congress on Tuesday to plead for their help in lobbying Washington to stop the deportation of his migrant mother, who has taken refuge in a Chicago church.

His fight is being closely watched on both sides of the border: The result could set a precedent for more than 3 million children, like him, who are Americans born to at least one parent who is in the U.S. illegally.

While his mother, Elvira Arellano, stays inside the Adalberto United Methodist Church on Chicago's West Side, Saul has joined a months-long campaign on her behalf, speaking out from Los Angeles to Washington, where he handed a White House guard his letter to President Bush.

"I want my mom to stay with me in the U.S.," he told The Associated Press on Monday in between informal meetings with Mexican lawmakers.

Since August 15 -- the day she was scheduled to surrender to U.S. authorities for deportation -- mother and son have lived at the church. U.S. federal officials have said there is no right to sanctuary in a church under U.S. law, and nothing to prevent them from arresting her.

But so far, they have not moved to detain Elvira Arellano, who has won the support from political figures across the United States, including Chicago Mayor Richard Daley.

Arellano, 31, said she sent her son to her homeland because she believes the Mexican government has the ability to help her.

"If the Mexican government can negotiate a free-trade agreement, they can negotiate a good accord to keep families from being split up," she said.

But immigration reform has proved to be a much tougher issue to resolve than trade. President Vicente Fox, who leaves office December 1, has struggled throughout his six-year term to gain Washington's support for a migration accord that would allow for thousands of Mexicans to work legally in the U.S. And while Bush personally supports a temporary guest-worker program, Republicans in Congress limited action to strengthening the border fence.

Arellano said she should not have to choose between leaving her son behind in the U.S. or bringing him to Mexico, away from his school, friends and familiar environment.

Conservative columnists and anti-illegal immigration activists say she put herself and her son in this difficult spot by repeatedly breaking the law.

Arellano illegally crossed into the United States in 1997 and was deported shortly afterward. She returned within days, living for three years in Oregon before moving to Chicago in 2000.

She was arrested two years later at O'Hare International Airport, where she worked as a cleaning woman. Convicted of working under a false Social Security number, she served three years probation before being ordered to appear at the immigration office in Chicago.

Aaahhhh

A short sigh because after watching the election results come in this evening, I feel as if I can breathe a little easier. Sure, new problems will arise (gridlock, party infighting...blah blah blah) but I feel a tinge of hope knowing that the majority of Americans in a lot of states are thinking a little bit more like me again. The nation is swinging back toward the middle - away from the right and I believe that just the increased diversity of our governing body will do us a whole lot of good, no matter what side of the aisle we align ourselves with...

Old

It's official. I am oldish. I am on the downslide toward 30. I had a really good birthday with a nice amount of attention. I am not an attention hog, but one thing I like about birthdays is the way they remind me that I have special people in my life who care about me. So thanks everyone. Thanks for the party that lasted until 3:30 am. Thanks for the cards, phone calls, e-mails, Myspace comments, gifts and conversation.

OMG! Comments!

Oh my goodness. I had no idea anyone was reading my blog. Since April, I have not received any comments! I was thinking that I had suddenly become very uninteresting and lost all of my readers and I could not figure out why. Then, tonight, as I was posting my end-of-weekend-bummer-still-hung-over-on-sunday-night poem even though I no longer feel so bummed, I noticed a button in Blogger that said "Moderate Comments". I thought, "Ha, like I have any comments to moderate" and then I clicked on it to see what those lucky people with comments get to do and there were a bunch of comments dating all the way back to April.

So, I feel loved again AND I feel really lame for thinking you were all tuning out all these months. NO WONDER I WAS FEELING LIKE BLOGS WERE PASSE!!!

Anyways, I am back and so are all of you my fair commenters.

More blogging to come...

Weekend Ending Blues

sad.
because a good weekend is coming to an end?
because my family is far away?
because life is imperfect?
because I can't fix my brother?
because I love too many people too intensely?
because alcohol is a depressant?
because I am imperfect?
because I would rather do many things than work?
because I can't do it all?
because I am lonely?
because I am scared?
because I don't know what to wear tomorrow?
because temptation is hard to resist?
because it is easy to be lazy?
because I can't get anyone to pick up the phone?
because I can't fix myself?
because of politics?
because I can be better?
because it gets dark so early?
because I work so hard?
because time goes too quickly?
because 28 is close to 30?
because the homeless women down the block are going to be cold tonight?
because I miss the mountains?
because of a sad song?
because I have to wait until Thursday for the next Grey's Anatomy?
because I am always trying to speed through the weeks?
because I miss my friends?
because sometimes I miss myself?
because
because
because

Enchanting

There is something about British accents that is just so enchanting.

Over?

I thought blogs were kind of over as marketing tools. There are about 75 million blogs. Why would anyone want to market in an audience that fragmented? But today I met with a guy my age who works in a kick-ass office in downtown DC who is convinced that word of mouth on blogs is the way to create buzz. Maybe I only thought blogs were dying because mine is dead as of late?

NYC

In about one month, I am going to NYC with my brother, grandma and Neil. We're seeing two Broadway shows and the Radio City Rockettes. I am so excited about this trip that I dream about it once a week.

Pigtails

I got a haircut last week. My hair, which used to be below my shoulders, no longer touches my shoulders. This makes my pig tails look really hilarious. Last night I had a nightmare about a business meeting I attended and was running. There were about 20 old white men in suits around a super-fancy table and I could not get them on-topic. To make matters worse, I had forgotten I had a business meeting that day and my hair was in little tiny stick-straight-out pigtails. How humiliating...

I think it's interesting that business meeting anxiety dreams have finally replaced my classroom anxiety dreams. I don't know how many years after graduation I had dreams about missing a test, or taking a test I'd forgotten to study for, or forgetting to go to a class for an entire semester... and now, I have moved on to the much more sophisticated "pigtails in the boardroom" nightmare. Aye yie yie.

Honor

It is really a huge honor to be asked to be someone's bridesmaid. I feel really honored to be in Nancy and Britty's weddings next summer.

Late or Early

Neil is working all night tonight. From 11 pm until 6 am. All the way from late to really late to early.

Meanwhile, I am going to bed.

Need

Have you ever felt that every organ in your body, every pore on your skin, every bit of your soul was in dire need of a vacation? That's how I am feeling as of late. I am too responsible for too many things. I'm constantly taking on more responsibility. I'm drowning in it. At work, home, in my social life, with my family. I need a vacation, not somewhere exotic necessarily... just somewhere away from myself.

I know, good luck with that.

Music as Religion

Yesterday was Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year. Neil an I went to services at a new place in our quest to find a synagogue where we feel at home. Rosh Hashana is one of the two most important holidays of the year and we took a risk by going to services ad an unknown synagogue. Sadly, the risk did not pay off. The services were terrible for so many reasons I don't even want to go into it on my blog. Suffice it to say that I left the service feeling angry that I was deprived of the spiritual growth/fulfillment that I usually feel on Rosh Hashana.

Yesterday afternoon, after services, we drove to Charlottesville, VA, to see the Dave Matthew Band play in the band's hometown. The drive through rural Virginia took about 2.5 hours. We saw big beautiful Southern homes, stopped at a general store that had been in business since the 1800's and generally enjoyed ourselves.

At the concert, we were on the floor of the arena in the 14th or 15th row - great seats. The concert was incredible. The band played some new songs, I was close enough to see the facial expressions on Dave Matthews and most of the other band members. It was awesome. During about the fifth song, as I felt my chest pound with the rhythm and sang along to a song about how we all fade away, I realized that the concert was more of a spiritual experience than anything I felt that morning. That maybe music is my religion.

On the drive there Neil had told me part of what he doesn't like about music is how it transports him to the time and place where he first heard the song. I think it's the transportative quality of music that I love so much. When I listen to a favorite song, it brings me back to all the people I've listened to it with and all the places I have heard it. It's truly a spiritual experience. Hearing music live only heightens the power of the experience. It may sound cheesy, but there is nothing that can make me fell more alive and inspired than hearing my favorite band in person. This does not mean I am abandoning Judaism. We will try another synagogue for Yom Kippur and hopefully it will have more to offer. But it's nice to realize that I can also turn elsewhere for my spiritual fulfillment.

Culinary Magic

Most people who know me also know that I am not a genius in the kitchen. In fact, I mostly despise cooking. Part of the reason for this is sheer laziness, but in addition to my preference for having other people cook for me, I find cooking to be very stressful. I do not know how to look in the fridge, pull some ingredients together and make something. I have to follow recipes and the recipes have to be explicit. A "pinch" of salt is not clear enough. I stress and worry that if I do not measure everything exactly, it will come out wrong. I have similar problems when I try to knit, which has resulted in my completely giving up the hobby. I know some people find cooking and knitting to be relaxing, but to me, they are two endeavors that make me want to pull my hair out. If I have a loose stitch in a scarf I'm knitting, I will unravel the whole thing until I fix the mistake. Other people think such blemishes are charming, to me they are endlessly frustrating. I am sure this says something about me as a person, but I like to think I am not this kind of crazy perfectionist in every area of my life...

Anyways, my new friend Debbie gave me cooking advice the other day. She told me that all good food starts with sauteed onions. This sounded reasonable to me, I love sauteed onions. She also said that I should pick foods of a variety of colors and put together ingredients I like. This is very little guidance, but for some reason, I decided to take a risk and go for it. Last night, I sauteed an onion and started adding things until I came out with a really delicious pasta sauce. I had never successfully made sauce from scratch with no recipe before and this sauce was so good that Neil must have said yum at least ten times while eating his bowl of gnocci. It was like a miracle. I threw this food in a frying pan and it turned into sauce. I am sure I sound ridiculous to those of you who can cook, but this was a major breakthrough for me. Who knows, I may even be ready to try improvised cooking again soon. So long recipes, hello culinary magician!

Satisfaction

I find it amazingly satisfying to recycle. Every time I take the bag of newspapers and plastic bottles to our building trash room and empty it into the separate recycling containers, I feel really good. Additionally, while we didn't get rid of our cars in order to be environmentalists, I am really happy to adopt that title. I feel glad about the money we are saving by not having a car, but even moreso, I am glad that we are doing our part to lower polution. It all sounds a little goody two-shoes, but that's how I feel. To add to the cheesy factor, I think I feel this way, in large part, because of Al Gore's movie.

Power of ?

I ride the metro to work and home every day. Several months ago, right before my stop on the way home, the driver announced that everyone should look out the window to see the new ads being tested in the metro. Sure enough, there on the tunnel wall was an ad for some car company. It was a very simple concept, the train goes fast enough to animate the ad, provided the designers set up stills to illustrate the movement. The ads are lit from behind to look like television, but they're much more low-tech.

A few weeks ago, the ad was switched to a Target ad. It is red and white and filled with cool objects and happy looking people and I could watch it over and over again. In fact, I do. It's amazing what a simple low-tech thing can do to a person's psyche. Even though I know it's advertising, every time I see it, I think "That's so cool." It's different than the rest of the black tunnels and it's just flashy enough to capture my imagination and make me think it's cool. How feeble and influencable human beings are. (I am).

Which makes me wonder, what could I do, to make a big impact on a lot of people. With just a small amount of ingenuity, perhaps I could spread a better message than "Shop at Target." I just need to figure out what it is I really want to say...

Signs

Today was a day that started out with a bunch of signs all telling me that I should have stayed in bed. It all began with a seemingly never ending nightmare about the world ending. Everyone had to evacuate in airplanes and I got separated from everyone but my little brother who forgot his ID and was not going to be let on the plane. It was one of those dreams that you can wake up from and go back to sleep and still be stuck in. It was terrible. I left the apartment late and went to my metro station. At the bottom of the escalator, I came across a baby bird with its wing caught in the bottom step. It was cheeping desperately and could not get out. I panicked and tried to get the Metro employees to help me rescue the bird to no avail. Finally, and I still feel guilty about this, I walked away and got on the train.

Then, when I got off the train, I called my mom while walking the 15 minutes to work. She answered the phone sobbing and told me she couldn't talk. THEN, I got to work, reached into my bag to get my badge so I could open the door and my key cut my finger, which started gushing blood all over everything, including my iPod.

It was at this point that I realized I should have gone home. I should have just turned around and returned to bed. I did not. Instead, I suffered through the rest of Tuesday and while it was not a great day, luckily it didn't get any worse.

Swamp

I live in a swamp. I knew what I was getting into when I moved here, but how could I really know? I take two to three showers a day. I am not proud of this fact. I do not like to waste water and dry out my skin and hair, but the swampy air clings to me and I feel disgusting.

Yesterday, Neil and I walked to Union Station in the middle of the afternoon. It's probably ten blocks from our apartment, maybe fewer, but I thought I was going to die. The heat was relentless. In addition to nearly melting into the pavement, we had the privilege of seeing at least one drug deal, one rat, several half-naked people and smelling all the smells of the city that somehow go dormant in the freeze of winter.

In spite of the smoldering, clinging, cloying heat, on most days, I am very glad to live here. But yesterday, as I dragged myself through the air toward air conditioning, I couldn't help fixating on the foothills of the Rockies.

Bad

Things are bad. Israel is at war with Lebanon. North Korea is making nuclear weapons. Hamas and Hezbolah are joining forces. The war in Iraq continues. Crime in D.C. is on the rise -- including the murder of an old friend of Neil's. Oh, and we're emitting too much carbon and causing global warming which is killing animals, creating worse storm patterns and moving us toward total destruction.

I realize I am being pesimistic, but sometimes there does not seem to be much hope in the world.

On the other hand, things in my little life go on as usual. Dinner out with a friend. Watched You, Me and Dupree (hilarious). I just can't help feeling a little bit guilty about letting things be normal.

A Fever

"My life- as an artist, at least - can be charted as precisely as a fever: the highs and lows, the very definite cycles. I started writing when I was eight - out of the blue, uninspired by any example. I'd never known anyone who wrote; indeed, I knew few people who read. But the fact was, the only four things that interested me were: reading books, going to the movies, tap dancing and drawing pictures. Then one day I started writing, not knowing that I had chained myself for life to a noble but merciless master. When God hands you a gift, he also hands you a whip; and the whip is intended solely for self-flagellation."
- Truman Capote
(From the preface of MUSIC FOR CHAMELEONS)

To The Guy Who Stood In Front of the Fan at the Gym Tonight

Dear Guy,
I know you live across the hall from me and I am supposed to be a good neighbor. In fact, I would much rather like my neighbors than not. However, ever since I learned that you stood my friend up on a Friday night and then DIDN'T EVEN CALL her to apologize, but instead sent a lame e-mail, I have been having my doubts about you.

This evening, when I saw you at the gym, I decided to take the high road and smile. You smiled and waved back. The gym was at least 85 degrees and the air conditioning is apparently broken since the door was propped open with a large dumbbell and there was a big industrial-strength fan whirring in the corner. I tried not to be annoyed that you were listening to an iPod and had the volume on the TV very loud. I tried not to be bothered that you seemed to have hidden the remote and I could not turn the TV by my machine on. But when you stood directly between me and the fan when you could have stood at any other point in the fan's path and you blocked every bit of cool air that was heading in my direction for more than 20 minutes of my 30-minute workout, I began to strongly dislike you. I spent at least 15 minutes trying to come up with a not-too-bitchy way to explain to you that it was a tad toasty in my corner. Then I began to embrace the heat thinking that I'd at least sweat out all my water weight while burning my 270 calories. Occasionally, you would turn around while taking a break from your weight-lifting and grunting. I wondered when you saw me completely soaked in sweat and as red as a tomato, why it wouldn't click in your brain that I might be HOT! But apparently it did not. You even stood there for a time while not working out, lifting your shirt to feel the cold air on your skin. I wanted to puke! When you left the gym, I had a little celebration on my precor.

Are you the most inconsiderate person on the planet or are you just completely clueless?

Signed,
Your Sweaty Neighbor

Alive

I am alive. Sean told me I need to update my blog, which is obviously true, so here I am. Hopefully I didn't scare away all five of my readers with my long absence.

I don't really have an excuse for not updating, except that once in a while I don't feel like sharing, or I let life get in my way...I'm not really sure.

Currently I am in a seriously introspective state. It's that time of year when I find myself questioning everything. Am I doing the right things to make myself happy and successful? Am I living a quality life? Who am I? Really, it's all exhausting. I have been listening to lots of whiny emo music on my iPod in the mornings and moping a little bit. I'm not proud of this, but it's the truth.

Then last night, Neil and I walked home from happy hour on Capitol Hill. We had to cross in front of the Capitol building and it was early twilight. The Capitol lawn was covered in a shimmering blanket of lightning bugs and it looked completely magical. There was an Army band playing convincing cover songs on the Capitol steps and a sizeable crowd had gathered to listen. As we walked by, I had a moment of clarity, providing hope that I will eventually emerge from this fog of introspection. Wish me luck.

Also on the way home we saw (and I nearly stepped on) a cockroach and then we crossed paths with a large rat. Ahh city living in the summer...

Week of Weakness
To be sick is to be weak. Or something like that. All week I have been basically feeling like crap. It's beautiful outside, the kind of weather that makes you want to wear a skirt and tank top, that calls you outdoors -- and I have been ill. I spent Monday in bed but the rest of the week, I worked long hours, kept social engagements, got very little sleep and felt like I was in battle the entire time. It is so completely frustrating to be physically weak, to be unable to keep up with the pace of life. I am really glad my week of weakness is finally over.

In other news, go see Over The Hedge.

Public Apology to the Nice-Seeming Girl On The Metro Who I Cut Off When The Door Chime Chimed
I only did it because I was afraid of being stuck on the train. I really appreciated you moving your hand to another pole in order to make room for my hand. I am sorry I did not afford you a similar courtesy and instead yelled out "are you kidding me?" to noone in particular when the driver chimed the door closing chime 20 seconds after the doors opened. I am also sorry that I then pushed ahead of you and out the metro door, not looking back until I was safely on my way up the escalator. It did look like you got off, though. So that's good. But I'm still sorry.

Singing in the Rain

Today, due to a series of unforeseen circumstances, Neil and I ended up walking at least 30 blocks in the pouring rain. It was awesome. So what if I am now chilled to the bone, so what if our clothes were soaked, it was great. It made me want to sing (in fact I did sing). There's something about getting soaked that is cleansing and not just because I got all wet. No, I wasn't in the mountains in New Mexico (my preferred location for getting completely soaked by a downpour) but the streets of DC were just fine. Neil thought I was slightly crazy for being so excited when the rain started pelting us, but I think he eventually came to see my position on the issue. Thank you rain.

In other news, only a little more than an hour before Desperate Housewives and Grey's Anatomy come on. I am an addict. I confess. But Sunday night TV rocks. What does not rock is the fact that the season ends in another week and I will be stuck with a cliffhanger ending and nothing to watch. But maybe I will do something more useful with my Sunday evenings?

Something I have been meaning to blog about since mid-April:
Growing up in New Mexico, one becomes very familiar with a certain lawyer who not only advertises on television, but also has had a billboard on the I-25 corridor with his face on it for at least the past 20 years. In addition to knowing the words to Sesame Street and the 321 Contact theme song as a child, I could also recite -- with all the right inflection -- "I'm Ron Bell and I sue drunk drivers." I could also tell you that to reach Ron Bell, one only needed to dial 898-BELL. Finally, If I ran into him on the street -- not that I ever did -- I would have been able to recognize the short, curly-haired man in a heartbeat.

Flash forward 20 years. When we moved to Albuquerque, Neil also became familiar with Mr. Bell. Only, the tagline had changed to "Ron Bell: Truck Accident Attorney". The phone number was the same, the face also the same. I suspected plastic surgery, but then again, men do age more gracefully than woman.

In mid-April, while walking through the Chicago Midway airport on our way back to D.C. a woman Neil worked with in New Mexico came screaming across the wide aisle of the terminal, "NEEEEEIIIILLLLLLL!!!" Some hugging and catching up ensued. I was introduced and then, a small curly-haired man popped out from behind the woman, extended his hand and said, "Hi! I'm Ron Bell!" At this moment I desperately wanted to say, "I know. You sue drunk drivers. Nice to meet you." Similarly, Neil had a yen to say "Truck accident attorney?" We both managed to control ourselves and simply say, "Nice meeting you." Which was really a gift because Ron went on to tell us about having just come from a relative's briss in Schaumberg and how nice his new girlfriend (Neil's friend) was to come along to such an occasion. Now, how often to you get to hear a local celebrity ramble about a relative's briss?

Of course, after the encounter, Neil and I came up with many other great responses to poor Ron's initial introduction. What I wonder is, why not just say, "Hi I'm Ron."? If I ever meet him again, I think I will make that recommendation. If he only used the first name, people would still know who he was, but may not be so compelled to follow his introduction with one of his ubiquitous tag lines. Of course any man who plasters his face on a billboard for nearly two decades, would probably be thrilled to see that his marketing dollars have not gone to waste. I have his freaking phone number memorized. Maybe I should not have pretended not to know who he was. Perhaps I should have just come out with it. "And you sue drunk drivers. 898-BELL right?"

Delinquent Blogger

Oh my goodness, what happened to me???

This month:
Patty P. visited for the Cherry Blossom Festival during which we saw the most amazing flowers ever and toured the White House gardens.

Neil's aunt Bella visited and so did his cousins and we went to the White House and cherry blossoms with them, too.

We went to New Mexico where we saw my crazy family and it was actually really great. We got to breathe in mountain air, sleep with the window open, see stars in the sky, hang out with good friends over my dad's expertly made margaritas, spend quality time with family, eat green chile, walk on the plaza and basically, I got to feel my feet on the ground where I have roots, recharge my battery and get back on the airplane feeling happy to be going home even if a small part of me also felt like I was leaving home. Of course, we didn't even stop in Albuquerque and we didn't get to visit our old neighborhood or our old offices and co-workers etc. but there's always time to do that when we go back in Sept. for the as-yet-unplanned 10-year high school reunion...augh.

When we returned from NM, our dogs had basically stopped eating and now we have to sit with them for at least 20 minutes at meal time in order to get them to eat. I also returned to massive amounts of stress at work, but what's new. The good part is that the weather has been amazing. When there is blue sky in the morning and I don't have to wear a heavy winter coat, it feels as if the world is full of possibilities.

Right now, Neil's dad is in town and his cousin and her baby are also in town (separate from his dad). So the weekend will be busy with visitors. On Sunday, I am going to the Save Darfur Rally on the Mall. If you don't know about the genocide taking place in Darfur, educate yourself about it.

And finally, a thought from my long walk home from work today. iPods are awesome and amazing, but are they also a way of supressing the human urge to sing along? When people in the 80's carried boom boxes on their shoulders, singing to the music was the norm. But there is something about singing to a song nobody else can hear that is a tad disconcerting -- so most people do not do it. When you are accompanied by background music, you always sound better than when you try to go it alone. So I wonder is suppressing my urge to bust out singing on my daily commute is also making me less likely to sing at other times?

Clearly, I need to think less and get more sleep.
Ciao.