21st Century Lesbian Trailer Trash

Autumn Leaves

2006-10-02T08:20:00.000-07:00

My sister pointed out to me that while I was in Hawaii, the 20th anniversary of the plane crash went unremarked by me.

It was a hallmark moment that derailed my life for a number of years. On September 23, 1986 my mother and stepfather took off from the tiny airstrip near Greenbush, Michigan in their single engine Piper Cub. It had been raining for nearly 3 weeks.

Somehow, they landed in a swamp and were not found for several days.

I cannot revisit the trauma that was my life during that period of time. It sent me careening into a wild dive through my unconscious that threatened to submerge me forever. Luckily, I had an excellent therapist.

Today, I am the age my mother was when she died. I had expected to be battling her for another 40 years.

I usually think of them only when I see a movie that I think they might have enjoyed. And from time to time, I ruminate on the implications of living beyond my mother's years.

Gratuitous Pity Party, etc.

2006-09-21T20:48:00.000-07:00

Just hand me a little of that brie to go with my whine.

The day I posted my last sorry entry, I went to work and 2 more nurses went out on a leave of absence. One for 10 days and one for 6 weeks. I worked a 12 hour shift on the floor last Friday because we were plumb out of nursie bodies. It was kind of fun.

But the worst news was that my sister's youngest daughter went into the hospital with a spontaneous pneumothorax (collapsed lung). R. is still in the hospital and K. can't make the trip to Kauai.

The kid will be OK. She's finally starting to heal after several procedures. I have a couple of extra dollars floating around so that I'll be able to do a couple of fun things while I'm there.

I'm so exhausted that all I want to do is sleep. At least I'll be doing that on the beach for the next few days.

I am packing some extra coffee in my bag. I'm not so clever as Mocha who made her own coffee pods for the BlogHer conference. But I am clever enough to rig things with paper towel and napkins.

Jaz will be staying with her original people so I won't have to worry about her.

The news is so bizarre as to defy intelligent comment these days. So I will leave well enough alone with hopes that I will survive to rant another day.

Y'all be good while I'm gone.

Attitude Adjustment Anyone?

2006-09-13T07:33:00.000-07:00

I haven't posted in a few days. And I am not sure when I can post again. My blog may have to lie fallow for a couple of weeks. I can't even get online to read other people's blogs simply due to circumstance.

First, I spent all day Sunday cleaning. At 11 p.m., just as I was turning out the light, and out of nowhere, I tossed my cookies.

I missed the managers day trip to Catalina. But managed to drag myself in yesterday even though I still felt like crap. I got a fair amount done, including a cut and paste job to fill the hole on the afternoon shift. I left about 2:30 hoping to get some sleep and wake up perky this morning.

No such luck. When I arrived home, the dog looked to be in worse shape than I. So off to the vet we went.

Jaz' skin condition is getting worse. The vet wanted to do a skin biopsy along with skin scrapings and a chest X-ray. $750.00 top estimate. With everything else happening, I didn't want to put her under anesthesia until after I return home from Hawaii.

She did the chest X-ray and skin scrapings. I have to drop her off on my way to work for a special bath to kill mites. She has to have one every 2 weeks. A minimum of 3 treatments. It's a long ordeal as they have to allow the dog to air dry.

She came home with an antibiotic and theophylline for bronchitis. Atarax for itching. And a cough medication. In short, she's a mess.

But it gets better. I just received a phone call that one nurse called off for the day shift, one called to say she wouldn't be there until 10 because her dog had puppies, and one called off for the afternoon shift. One is, I am sure judging by the weekend she had at work, overly stressed. I can live with that.

But one of the nurses is pissed because she got "stuck" working last night. Of course, she volunteered. She just returned from vacation. A vacation that ought to have been denied because we already had 3 requests ahead of her. But how could I say no to a mom who wanted to watch her bad boy son finally graduate from boot camp?

My assistant is on a leave for 30 days because of health issues. I am so far in the hole at work I can't see my way out.

I have to have my house ready by 9 a.m. on Saturday for a delivery and the carpet cleaners. I have to get someone in to get rid of a couple of pieces of furniture for me before the carpet cleaners come a 1 p.m.

I keep hoping I can find something positive in all of this. Because I sure can't control the chaos creators surrounding me.

Help!

A Pearl of a Girl

2006-09-10T11:03:00.000-07:00

We have a new resident whom I shall call Pearl. This is a direct reference to the book and the movie David and Lisa.

Pearl is much older than Lisa, somewhere in her forties. Tall and thin, she has large, liquid eyes and cafe au lait skin. I find myself on the verge of losing my professional perspective, prepared to jump into the abyss for a daring rescue.

The names and some details are changed to protect the innocent. A brilliant and beautiful young woman, born and raised on the east coast, she suffered a horrendous traffic accident during her teen years. She overcame a head injury and continued a life of world travel and study at some of Europe's most prestigious universities. She rubbed elbows with the well known and the wealthy.

At some point she was diagnosed as bipolar. She underwent treatment and continued to live an amazing nomadic life. She worked with the poor. She became a lay aspirant to a catholic order of nuns. Then at some point, she suffered another head injury.

Still an Olympic level verbal gymnast, reality and delusion have merged. She could not overcome the second injury. And although she has holes in her memory, she does not forget her former life. She believes that with the right medication, the right diet, and the right environment, she will recover.

She sits in my office and says amazing things about God and Spirit. She talks of world peace and the human capacity for love. She speaks of world healing. She doesn't sound crazy until she begins to discuss her relationship with the US president and her distrust of the Jews. She never goes so far as to discuss computer chips in her head or laser rays. But she rides the edge.

I'm not completely certain. But I have a hope in my heart that the Universe will heal this pearl of the world.

I Smell Old People

2006-09-08T08:10:00.000-07:00

I have news for the Baby Boomers among us, particularly those of us in our 50's. We are starting to smell like old people. And all of the plastic surgery in the world, gallons of Oil of Olay, and hours at the gym will not derail that particular phenomenon.

Remember being in your grandma's house when you were about 7 years old? And you thought you would asphyxiate if you didn't get outside in the next 5 minutes?

Old people houses are closed in, cluttered, and musty. There are dust bunnies under the furniture. Even grandma's dog smells like old people. Even after a shower and some perfume, grandma smells funny.

We all have that moment when we know we are doomed. Mine came when I found out that my sister was grooving on Patsy Kline. I had a future flash of big blue hair and flowered dresses with red lipstick that bleeds outside the lip line.

There is no horror like the horror you feel the first time you notice tire tracks in your underwear. Next is when some little kid leans in for a kiss and wrinkles his nose saying "Your breath smells funny."

Carpe diem kids. Time is not stopping even for us. And if you think soy products will save you, think again.

I Thought I Could Change

2006-09-07T08:45:00.000-07:00

It occurs to me this morning, as I read the news and contemplate my life, that while much has changed, many major flaws remain. I refer not just to myself but to the state of the world in general.

Homophobia is rampant. Women's Rights are in the toilet. We're still fighting wars and world hunger.

It brings home the idea that larger change can only come from the individual. If I continue to do the same stupid thing over and over again, why would governments be any different?

It's depressing.

I Am So Going to Buy These

2006-09-05T21:40:00.000-07:00

Special thanks to Mocha Momma whose delicious daughter found these jeans for tall women.

Until you have spent your life in high waters, you have no idea how exciting this can be.

Now, if only I could order the body to go with them.

Nada

2006-09-05T08:16:00.000-07:00

I have absolutely nothing to report. But just for fun, here is what my nurses felt moved to report to me over the long weekend.

1. Do you want to call X's mother? She wants to meet her son at his oncology appointment on Tuesday. I didn't know if you would be here on Monday or not so I thought you would want to know today.

Why would I want to call Mrs. X on my day off? Aren't you really telling me that you don't want to deal with a family member? Besides, its more fun to bother me on my day off isn't it?

2. Call me as soon as possible. I have to ask you some questions about Nurse B.

Huh?

3. Nurse Z called off because she had to stay late last night and she feels like crap. I'll stay if that's OK with you.

And that wouldn't be OK with me because? Sure, I really want to come in and work the floor for you. Unfortunately, I have a little vino on board and would hate to lose my license.

This is my life. It's so sad isn't it?

Lions & Tigers & Trolls!

2006-09-04T10:21:00.000-07:00

Oh my! Since I made my comments section a bit more inconvenient, my own personal troll, who goes by the moniker of Martha, has made fewer and less offensive appearances. Yet "she" is still here.

I am not convinced that Martha is a woman although she could be. If you find her site (to which I will not link here) you will find that Martha appears to be a semi-literate person from lower Slobovia. An eastern bloc nation that still exists in the 1950's. The blog is defunct. In fact, I don't think it ever got off the ground.

BTW, for all of you young pups, Slobovia is a reference from an ancient comic strip that is not a game site and of which you are probably not familiar.

Martha made a comment about someone's icon that looked like a compliment. But I have a high index of suspicion that it was meant to be facetious. Unfortunately for Martha, he/she is not bright enough to pull it off.

Just to set the record straight, I ordered basic cable only. But how does Martha know that one can find lesbian porn on cable television? He/she has obviously done some research.

Me? I still have to go to Hollywood Video for my lesbian porn.

I Ought to be Grateful

2006-09-02T18:05:00.000-07:00

that Bank of America cares enough to keep an eye out for suspicious account activity. Instead, I'm irritated.

It seems that my life is so damned boring that the following adds up to suspicious:

A purchase at Walmart for under fifty dollars. And a purchase at Long's Drugs for just over fifty dollars. All in one day. Plus, 2 lunches out last week with the boss and LavenderDE. An automatic online account payment. And a Starbucks purchase in the amount of seven dollars and thirty cents. These last purchases occurred between Tuesday and Friday.

It's only unusual because I neglected to stop for cash and so used my ATM card for those minor things for which I usually use cash.

The lesson here, I'm guessing, is don't step out of your little box. Big Brother is probably watching.

What exciting things did I buy? Face cream, sunglasses, and sunscreen. I am going to Hawaii after all. And some new towels and washcloths because my sister will be here and I thought it might be nice.

I wonder if the bank will have a meltdown if I use the account to pay Stanley Steemer?

The Great Starbucks Caper of 2006

2006-08-31T22:02:00.000-07:00

Sweet John at Old Grey Poet was enjoying a pleasant foray into his local Starbucks store when he playfully snapped a pic of his partner who caught him, in flagrante delicto, and snapped back with his camera phone. Moments later a young barista approached John to inform him that picture taking was not allowed inside a Starbucks store by company policy.

Neither the young man nor the store manager was able to explain the whys or the wherefores of this policy. So here's what I'm thinking:

Grab your cameras and your camera phones to invade your local Starbucks for a picture taking frenzy. Bring your friends. Bring your relatives. Implore your neighbors to join you in the caper.

Then, unload your cameras and flood the internet with snapshots of the ubiquitous coffee shop. Surely that will do irreparable harm to their business.

In the meantime, I intend to interview a few baristas and store managers to discover if this policy is in effect in all Starbucks stores or only those in Great Britain. Then I intend to ask them if anyone can explain the rationale behind this policy. Surely it displays a remarkably overweening sense of importance vis a vis the Starbucks logo.

If possible, I'll snap pictures of said subjects, promising internet fame.

Because I'm a Dyke

2006-08-31T08:26:00.000-07:00

When I arrived home from work last night, there was a huge box outside my back door. It looked bigger than my back door. And I already knew that it weighed 67 pounds.

So I went inside, fed the dog and the cat, booted up the computer, and contemplated the wisdom of pouring a glass of wine before figuring out how to get the box inside the house.

What was it? A tube TV. 24 inches. With a DVD and a VCR built in.

Q. Why in the hell is she buying a tube tv?

A. Because it seems ridiculous to spend thousands on an LCD flat screen.

Q. At 57, why does she think she can lift and carry a 67 pound object designed to crash on the floor and break?

A. Because she likes to play Butch for a Day. It's what dykes do.

Q. But why a tube tv?

A. Because it's cheap and it fits my needs for the time being.

I went back outside after dark because I didn't want some old man offering to help me and then keeling over from a heart attack. And because if I was going to look like an idiot it would only be under the cover of darkness.

I eyeballed that sucker. I decided I could do it. I rolled it up the back steps and into the door. Then I opened the refrigerator door to give me enough space to get it through the kitchen. After that, all I had to do was drag it to the spot where it would rest in all of its glory.

Now all I need to do is order cable.

Listen. Y'all knew I was wierd going in so don't even comment on that one.

Now I'm late for work again. And I promised LavenderDE a venti decaf iced latte.

Would the Last Comic Standing

2006-08-30T08:28:00.000-07:00

Please turn out the lights. Because when people like Rush Limbaugh and GWB are finished with us, we won't have a real country anymore. We'll all be sitting on a broke assed pile of cow manure, paying taxes and waiting for WalMart to rescue us from certain disaster.

And we had all better learn how to slaughter a cow if we want butter for our bread. Yes people. This is what was in my news this morning.

In Media Matters Rush Limbaugh waxes poetic on the Poor & the Fat in America:

Summary: Rush Limbaugh blamed "the left" and the United Nations' Children Fund (UNICEF) for "the latest crisis" of "obesity among those who are impoverished," adding that Americans "[d]idn't teach them how to ... slaughter a cow to get the butter; we gave them the butter." Limbaugh also called the "Trick-or-Treat for UNICEF" campaign "[o]ne of the biggest scams on the face of the earth" because its goal was to "get everybody thinking the United Nations is feeding poor people."

I traveled on to Common Dreams where I found this gem by Naomi Klein:

Published on Monday, August 28, 2006
by CommonDreams.org
Pay To Be Saved: The Future of Disaster Response
by Naomi Klein

The Red Cross has just announced a new disaster-response partnership with Wal-Mart. When the next hurricane hits, it will be a co-production of Big Aid and Big Box.
This, apparently, is the lesson learned from the government's calamitous response to Hurricane Katrina: Businesses do disaster better...

Here's a snapshot of what could be in store in the not-too-distant future: helicopter rides off of rooftops in flooded cities ($5,000 a pop, $7,000 for families, pets included), bottled water and "meals ready to eat" ($50 per person, steep, but that's supply and demand) and a cot in a shelter with a portable shower (show us your biometric ID -- developed on a lucrative Homeland Security contract -- and we'll track you down later with the bill. Don't worry, we have ways: spying has been outsourced too).

The model, of course, is the U.S. healthcare system, in which the wealthy can access best-in-class treatment in spa-like environments while 46-million Americans lack health insurance. As emergency-response, the model is already at work in the global AIDS pandemic: private-sector prowess helped produce lifesaving drugs (with heavy public subsidies), then set prices so high that the vast majority of the world's infected cannot afford treatment.

Next are some snippets from Suzanne's rant on the ever humorous President of the United States:

In Maureen Dowd’s column, she reports on President Bush’s joke-y little visit to New Orleans yesterday, one year after Hurricane Katrina rained injustice on the city. Now, his bons mots were not all that funny - although they do offer up some good moments of “he-did-not just say that, did he? –but when he was approached by NBC news anchor Brian Williams, a truly funny exhange took place...

It would be cool if the American people would wake up and impeach this impish prankster, and then Last Comic Standing could scoop him up for your show. Watching him interact with the other comedians in the house will be gut-busting.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Laura Bush poo poos the idea that her hubby's response to Katrina hurt his image. Please, all of my straight grrl friends, disabuse me of the notion that heterosexuality clogs up your brain cells.

Olio of My Day

2006-08-29T08:05:00.000-07:00

A dish of many ingredients. Potpourri. That's the internet for you. It just occurred to me that someone ought to invent a favorites list that rotates periodically.

I start at the top and rarely get to the bottom before I run out of time. There are so many delectable dishes on that list and I rarely get to all of them.

Badger got me started with her brilliant idea to tag all of history.

Then Cracker Lilo took me directly to my favorite place: Starbucks. Wouldn't you know that the Nutrition Nannies, as Lilo so fondly calls them, are sounding the alarm that Starbucks is marketing to the kids. Getting them hooked on the evils of caffeine. Like kids haven't been drinking coffee forever.

If I had a kid, I'd rather she get hooked on caffeine than on crystal meth. But hey. That's just me.

A blog that doesn't get nearly enough comments is Country Mouse City Mouse Adventures. This very young writer is delicate, sensitive, and funny. I particularly love her pieces on life at the Berry Farm.

Have I mentioned how much I love my trailer trash sister, On Silver Wings? She rocks. "I'm not a lesbian but I could be," is what she told me in an email. Love women with balls and attitude.

And this morning, Katy, otherwise known as Barnyard Mamma, had a fun idea over at Teacher in Heels.

If your life was to be made into a movie, what would the title be? And what would the opening scene look like?

My answer:

My Movie? An Unbalanced Life. No, that would be my book. The movie title would have to be more catchy.

The opening scene would include a stack of books, a cup of coffee, and a cigarette burning next to a computer monitor. Flashback to Woodstock and key Bob Dylan.

Mocha Momma's Blogiversary

2006-08-28T12:05:00.000-07:00

A stack of diamond celebration rings from Tiffany & Co. for Mocha Momma. It is, after all, her Blog Anniversary. Being the spectacular human being and the True Princess of Quite Alot that she is, it is only fitting that her wish be granted.

I am also granting her a lifetime supply of an assortment of coffees from the best coffee purveyors. And a $50,000 Starbucks gift card. Hopefully, that will take her to retirement and beyond.

OK. So it's a little over the top. But did I tell you that I declared today National Mocha Momma Day? I stayed home to celebrate her bloggity goodness.

If you have not yet discovered this luscious Blog Queen, please take a look at the wit and wisdom that is Kelly. You'll be glad you did.

P.S. I had to edit this to add a Story People story for Kelly:

Underwear Parade

I think we should make all the flags in the parade out of long underwear, he said, because then only the really fun people will come.

Something to Make You Angry

2006-08-26T13:50:00.000-07:00

Slate Magazine has an article alerting us to the fact that a major drug company has drastically increased the cost of birth control pills, once sold for a penny a pack to publicly funded clinics:

No one much noticed, but thousands of family-planning clinics across the country went into a tailspin last month. They were reacting to a drastic price increase by Ortho-McNeil, a major supplier of birth-control pills and maker of the popular contraceptive patch. The company used to charge publicly funded clinics as little as a penny a pack for the pills. Then, as of July 1, the price of some pills jumped to more than $18 a pack. Ortho's move was apparently legal under federal pricing rules. But it's anybody's guess as to why the company chose to do this now, without giving the clinics any real notice.

Thanks to Bitch Ph.D. for the tip. Read more about her harrowing adventure with birth control here.

Ever Try to Eat Hot Buffalo Wings

2006-08-25T21:30:00.000-07:00

dipped in ranch dressing and type on your computer keyboard at the same time? It's kind of what one might call a losing proposition. Don't even think there is anything ladylike about wiping the grease from your hands onto the keys and then onto your already greasy napkin.

I tried to post this morning but Blogger wasn't having any of that. I found, much to my dismay, that I could not even post comments on several of my Blogger Buddy sites. But I did find some gems while blog hopping.

Under the heading of Oh No He Didn't! From Jenn at Reappropriate, this tidbit left me speechless:

This season, Survivor features 20 new cast-members trying to survive in harsh, untamed nature (completely authentic despite the well-fed six-man camera crew following sticking the camera in your face as you attempt to light kindling with two pieces of rock and a machete). Of note is the fact that this season marks the most diverse Survivor cast we've ever seen, with a whopping fifteen people of colour.

the twenty castmembers will be divided into four tribes... by "ethnicity"! (Burnett must think we're stupid if we think that "White", "African American", and "Asian American" are ethnicities. They're races; Burnett is just afraid of sounding politically incorrect, describing what he has nonetheless done).

Under the heading of There Just Might Be a New Sheriff in Town from Cheryl at No Ordinary Princess comes the story of Kinky Friedman. Can an odd Jewish boy with no clear political affiliations but a decidedly conservative bent grow up to be the governor of Texas? I doubt it but then what do I know?

Under the heading of New Age Philosophy and Let's All Feel Good, Michelle O'Neill at Full-Soul-Ahead found a charming spot on the web called Story People.

She said she usually cried at least once each day not because she was sad, but because the world was so beautiful & life was so short.

You're the strangest person I ever met, she said & I said you too & we decided we'd know each other a long time.

Under the heading of I Never Damn Could Parse a Sentence, Scout at Neurotranscendence writes about bloggity grammar in a way that we can all understand. The woman is scary smart.
It's Friday. It's payday. Let's part-ay!

D'oh!

2006-08-24T08:49:00.000-07:00

This Homer Simpson moment is brought to you by Les Beans Costa Rita coffee. It's a good day to have a warm and mellow, full bodied woman sitting next to me.

Yesterday morning I was flying high and tight, lookin' good in my cream colored pants and white blouse with the little flowers embroidered on the cuffs and collar. I had even managed lipstick.

Next thing you know I was really flying. As in through the air. SPLAT! I was face down on the pavement.

The maintenance dude was first on the scene. I didn't get up because I wasn't sure if anything was broken. Plus, the right side of my face felt a little bit like road kill must feel.

Before I knew it, LavenderDE was on there, took a look at my face, and told someone to call 911. And there I am, in the middle of the parking lot, sprawled out like a doddering old drunk for all the world to see.

After a few minutes I was fairly certain nothing was broken other than my pride. And possibly my right pinky finger.

At least my sense of humor was still intact.

EMT: How old did you say you were? 42?

Me: I haven't even seen your face yet and already I know you're cute.

They bundled me onto the gurney and into the rig, trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey complete with neck brace and back board.

After an exciting hour of being poked, prodded, examined and clucked over, I was released on my own recognizance. I didn't merit anything stronger than ibuprofen and an ice pack.

I returned to work in filthy clothing because it would have taken too much time out of my day to go home and change.

Ah, but my day wasn't over. After coming home feeling thankful over my sudden brush with certain life long road burn on my face, I took Jaz to drop off my DVD's and drive through Starbucks for a Banana coconut frappucino.

When I drove back into the drive of my little tin house, I miscalculated, scraping my front fender and bending the support thingie on my overhang.

Obviously, I should not have left home yesterday. But the Universe doesn't always tell you what's in store for you. So I tucked myself and the dog into bed with 800 mg. of Advil and a Flexeril left over from a previous injury, to sleep off the bad karma.

I have a bit of a shiner, a bump on my forehead, a scraped up right cheek, and a very sore pinky finger. Aside from that and a bit of residual soreness, I feel fine.

My car was not so lucky. Her minor damage won't go away on its own. Ditto for the bent support pole. All that and I didn't even earn a day off work.

BlogWorld

2006-08-22T08:34:00.000-07:00

Probably not the post you expect. But it is the one that you will get.

A question on my favorite message board this week is about the differences between blogs and message boards.

Personally, I have found that blogs can build community just as easily as message boards. In many instances they may be better tools for community building.

The place where I haunt message boards is rather unusual in its organization. All message boards are hosted and hosts are required to visit their boards a minimum of 3 times weekly.

The downside is that the Terms of Service are extremely strict. As a member there, who knew I said "fuck" until I started my blog?

Also, we lesbians are so closely monitored that whenever we begin to have fun with the topic of sex, the moderators are all over us like white on rice. And while the Christian right is allowed to slam us at will, we have to play nice when we talk about them. Not so on NursePam's blog.

So, I'm curious. What got you started blogging? If you blog, do you visit message boards? And which do you prefer?

Do you think that blogs build community? Is that one of the reasons that you blog?

It Was So Innocent

2006-08-20T19:15:00.000-07:00

Someone made a very innocent comment about me today. And it was a gut punch like I have not felt in quite some time.

For some reason, it took me back to the time my youngest sister would not speak to me. It was for a period of about 5 years. After the fact, she would not tell me what precipitated this.

I remember at one point that she was very angry with me, demanding to know who L. was. "Who is she to you? What does she mean to you?"

L. and I were lovers. I did not tell my sister this but it must have been quite apparent. She would not ask me at the time. Somehow, I think she thought that I had made a fool of her or betrayed her in some way by not telling her this. I suppose I will never know.

I do remember the terror at the thought of being rejected by my family. My mother was a clinical social worker. When I went home for the funeral, I noticed that she had quite a few books about homosexuality being a mental illness.

Somehow, that innocuous comment today brought into sharp focus this kaleidescope of pain. I rarely share it or show it.

L. left me saying that she "loved me but wasn't in love with me". My sister rejected me, in part because she felt rejected by my failure to share my truth with her.

The short answer to the comment/question is that I would rather be alone than to dive into that pool of pain again.

Me Me Me Me Meme

2006-08-20T10:35:00.000-07:00

KMae tagged me for this. More or less. So here are 44 things about me that you can't wait to know.

1. How tall are you barefoot?
5'8" and a smidgen.

2. Have you ever been cheated on?
Most likely.

3. Do you own a gun?
No. I once had a gun. When I was in my early 20's and living in a slum apartment in Detroit's 13th precinct. Long story but the Black Panther living on the top floor outfitted all of the single women in the building with pistols.

4. What do you think of hot dogs?
Hot dogs are OK as long as they are grilled over an open flame and topped with mustard.

5. What's your favorite Christmas song?
O Holy Night

6. What do you prefer to drink in the morning?
You're kidding. Right? Coffee!

7. Do you do push-ups?
You're kidding. Right? Nevah!

8. Have you ever done ecstasy?
Yuk! No.

9. Do you like Disney World?
Never been. And even though I am 90 minutes from Disney Land, I have never been there either. My California cousin thinks I am some sort of troglogdyte from another planet.

10. Do you like the rain?
I love the rain.

11. Do you own a knife?
Other than the knives in my kitchen drawer? I don't think so.

12. What do you smell like?
Right now? Pretty ripe. Ordinarily like shampoo, flowers, and a faint whiff of smoke.

13. Do you have A.D.D.?
I seriously doubt it.

14. Name 3 thoughts at this exact moment.
This is one long ass meme.
Don't forget the laundry.
Are you going to be a slug all day?

15. Name the last 3 things you have bought today.
Nothing. I have not left the house and I have not shopped online.

16. Name five drinks you regularly drink.
Coffee, herbal tea (hot), water, iced tea, and fruit juices.

17. What time did you wake up today?
I think it was about 8:40.

18. Can you spell?
Usually.

19. Current worries?
Having my house in order when sis gets here.
Nursing shortage.

20. Current hate ?
Let's not go there.

21. Favorite place to be?
Home.

22. Least favorite place to be?
A crowded mall at Christmas time.

23. Where do you want to go?
Liverpool to visit Lynn and Kim.

24. Do you own slippers?
Several pair.

25. Where do you think you will be in 10 years?
Hopefully, still on the planet and out of nursing. Maybe semi retired and doing massage.

26. Do you burn or tan?
Burn.

27. Yellow or blue?
Blue. Yellow can be quite lovely in the right amounts. But too much jangles my nerves.

28. Would you give up your current life to be a pirate?
That depends. Do I get to keep all the girls?

29. Last time your cell rang?
Days ago. I only use it for work and I have the nurses trained to call my home phone. The company cell phone is a cheap piece of junk and the ring sends me through the roof.

30. What songs do you sing in theshower?
It's a Long Way to Tiperari. And Christmas carols.

31. What did you fear was going to get you at night as a child?
The bogey man who lived under the bed.

32. How much cash do you have on you?
About $90.00

33. Last thing that made you laugh?
The dog and the cat trying to dive bomb each other from the sofa.

34. Best bed sheets you had as a child?
We always had regular old white cotton sheets.

35. Worst injury you've ever had?
Probably when I hurt my back a couple of years ago. They put me through a gazillion tests and made me suffer for a year before doing something about the pain. I think this was the thought: She might have cancer. We have to let her live in agony until we know for sure what it is. (It was a compressed disc).

36. Where have you been out of US?
Germany, Switzerland, Canada, Mexico.

37. Who is your loudest friend?
Probably Dixie.

38. Who is your most silent friend?
I'm not sure I have any friends who are quiet.

39. Does someone have a crush on you?
Not that I know of.

40. Do you wish on stars?
Yes.

41. What song did you last hear?
I can't remember.

42. What song do you want played at your funeral?
Ave Maria.

43. What were you doing at 12:00 last night?
I think I was still reading at midnight.

44. First thought upon waking up this morning?
It's Sunday! Let's make coffee.

Spank the Dog

2006-08-18T08:20:00.000-07:00

According to a poll reported in the New York Times, 50% of Americans believe that Saddam Hussein had weapons of mass destruction stashed somewhere. Despite all evidence to the contrary.

I'm not posting the link because I forgot to snag it and then the old 'puter crashed. But it's easy enough to find the NYT online if you're interested. My question is this: are Americans getting dumber? No need to give me an answer.

So, this morning, the dog proved me a liar and barked her fool head off in the kitchen at about 0630. Waving her head from side to side, whites of her eyes showing, she continued to bark for the sheer joy of barking.

I finally had to tap her on the butt with 2 fingers. That's all it takes to make her cower under the bed for about 15 minutes. And it is only the second time that I have resorted to something like that. Still, I felt huge and mean.

TGIF. I'm thinking I need to be sick on Monday.

2006-08-17T08:40:00.000-07:00

Still swimming up from the depths of interrupted sleep, I am drinking Starbucks Komodo Dragon this morning. It's bold and flavorful; just the sort of coffee that might jump start my tired body.

The JonBenet Ramsey thing has everyone in a frenzy recently. I just don't know what to think. Not that I ever felt the need to blame her parents. I have simply never known quite what to think.

JonBenet is a kind of fairy tale for our times. A cautionary story about riches and beauty and the drive to succeed. We love to watch the train wreck of another person's life. Somehow, it makes us right. It makes us better. It proves that God will punish the wicked and reward the righteous.

For most, it doesn't matter who murdered the tiny beauty queen. In fact, we don't really want to know. Because in knowing the truth, we may find ourselves humbled. We may be forced to drop to our knees and beg forgiveness of a family we do not even know.

Or worse, we may be faced with the awful knowledge that we can be devastated by those whom we trust the most.

Ghosts

2006-08-15T18:50:00.000-07:00

I hear the crystaline sound of breaking glass; light and musical in the back office. Laughing, they brush up the shards and then she speaks longingly of the hot green tea that she had been about to drink.

Hours later I awake from the dreamless sleep of exhaustion, those fragile shards lodged in my heart. In that place where motherhood took root but did not flower, I sense the familiar ache of loss. I can still feel the silken skin of her arms wrapped around my neck. Her small white hands pat my back as if to comfort me.

Her damp curls brush my cheek and the salt of her angry tears is on my lips. I feel the surprisingly sensual pull of her physical nearness. The slightly sour smell of her illness mixed with the sweet smell of lotion and shampoo.

Alone in that house with the child who would be mine. The hum and whir of her machines a lullabye that rock my sleep, still haunt my dreams.

The heavy quilt that grief has woven covers me some days like a shroud. She is alive and well and loved. Yet in that single moment, she is real only to me. Unknown by my family she exists in my memory as though she is only some fantasy of my childless yearning.

There was joy there somewhere. As she recedes further and further away from me, I try to remember the joy.

Karma

2006-08-15T10:34:00.000-07:00

Doesn't it just stand to reason that after you have been awake for 28 hours straight, and have worked all night, because just as you were drifting off to sleep you received a phone call saying one of the nurses had to rush her husband to the emergency room; and after your neighbor accused your dog of waking her up in the ungodly wee hours of the morning, that you would arrive home only to find that the park has hired a tree trimmer, complete with woodchipper, to spend the day trimming all of the palm trees?

Payback is a(insert expletive here).

But you know what's really funny? Driving home, I realized that I left the house at midnight without remembering to turn off the alarm clock, which rings for a solid hour.

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

I'll bet my dog barked her ass off. I half expected to be greeted by the local gendarmes.

They're not here yet. Nighty night all.

Dear Nasty Neighbor

2006-08-14T22:50:00.000-07:00

Thank you for the anonymous note you left tucked in my back door. I found it when I arrived home after a 10 hour day at work and a trip to the grocery store.

In spidery, old lady script it reads:

Your dog is waking us up at 5:00 & 6:00 A.M. Please try to eliminate barking that early.

Sure. OK chickenshit nasty old bag. I have no idea who you are or where you live. The homes directly behind me and to one side of me are vacant. On the other side is a woman who gets up earlier than I. When she's home. The people in the 2 houses across the street from me have dogs.

You can nap all day bitch. And my dog doesn't bark other than a couple of times in the morning because she is so eager to eat. And for a couple of minutes in the evening until I can get inside my door after pulling into the driveway. Oh yeah. She barks a little from time to time when we rough house. Or when someone knocks on the door. And that, asshole, is her job.

How do you propose I eliminate barking? Bury her under my lemon tree? That would solve the problem.

By the way, the dog doesn't bark before 6 a.m. because I don't get up before 6 a.m. I would like to summon up some compassion for you. But your lack of courtesy and your inability to handle this like an adult make that difficult.

Get a life.

Ooooommmmmmmm

2006-08-14T08:05:00.000-07:00

*gregorian chant playing softly in the background*

Minimi dominus matrim nobo pudenda!

Omni deus maximus no problemo!

Thanks to my bud Kitty Litter, I now have a plan for rest and relaxation. A way to soothe my ravaged soul and continue to be a productive citizen of the world with a Mona Lisa smile on my face.

You have to love this woman. She's the kid who sat in the back of the class and convinced you that it would be a good idea to throw spit balls at the math teacher.

She's the kid who taught you how to short sheet your sister and how to climb out of your bedroom window after dark when you were on restriction.

Let's hear it for the people who always make you laugh.

A Woman's Brain

2006-08-13T14:05:00.000-07:00

is a beautiful thing to behold. I cannot remember which blogger led me to this article from the San Francisco Chronicle but it's nothing that we didn't already know.

Louann Brizendine's feminist ideals were forged in the 1970s, so the UCSF neuropsychiatrist is aware that some parts of her new book, "The Female Brain," sound politically incorrect.

Such as the part about how a financially independent woman may talk about finding a soul mate, but when she meets a prospective mate her brain is subconsciously sizing up his portfolio. Or the part describing the withdrawal pains moms feel when they return to work and can no longer cop a hormonal high from breast-feeding their babies.

Brizendine talks about how men think about sex once every minute and women think about sex once every now and again. Well, we didn't need a neuropsychiatrist to tell us these things. Of course, what isn't mentioned in the article (and I don't know if it's mentioned in the book) is that college age people, male and female, think about sex all of the time.

What I know, without reading her book, is that women do not think like men. I knew this back in the late 60's or early 70's when we were all burning our bras. I grew up with 2 brothers for gosh sake. I had a father, a stepfather, grandfathers, uncles, male teachers, and male cousins. Believe me. They were different. And the frenzied height of the feminist movement never caused me to doubt that for one minute.

My interests lay in the idea of equal pay for equal work. In not being a second class citizen. In not being manipulated by being called a bitch, emotional, or unreasonable. It must be that time of the month. That was my cause.

There still remains within our culture the dichotomy of The Other. Us and Them. And it is alive and well in the idea of the superiority of the masculine.

This is where the causes of feminism, racism, and homophobia converge. As long as we insist on putting our energies into deciding which is better, and then subjugating the group(s) who are Other than ourselves, we take our energies away from saving the planet and the human race as a whole.

My jaded half surveys the news and says "We'll never make it there in time." But my hopeful side chooses to believe that the apocryphal tale of The Hundredth Monkey is true.

I'm not ready to give up just yet.

But A Drop in That Bucket

2006-08-11T18:58:00.000-07:00

called life. That's all it was. The corporate Hoo Haws got everyone all bent out of shape over nothing. Of course, our little facility handed over the most complete and organized records for the auditor. She was in and out in less than half a day and complimented us on our presentation.

That's because our management team has about 180 years experience behind us, as opposed to the sweet, young, and wet behind the ears teams at the other facilities in the corporation.

So what do you do after you win the race? Why, you leave work at noon on Friday with the boss and LavenderDE in tow. I didn't even say goodbye to the nurses. I just threw the weekend schedules their way, grabbed my purse, and ran.

We hit the Olive Garden for a glass of wine and a feast. I had the Chicken Giordino with the loveliest lemon sauce this side of heaven. Just on principle, and because I had promised myself, I drank half a glass of the house rose`. No drunkie drunkie. I had errands to run and I was already on the verge of crashing.

I hit the bookstore, the video store, and the pet store. This is where the doggie car seat, pictured above, fits in. Jaz now has her very own because she is incorrigible in the car. My last stop was Starbucks for my favorite standby: the mocha frapuccino with a ton of whipped cream.

I headed home to savor my frap and watch a very bad sci fi movie. The nurses have already called about 8 times. Apparently, my disappearing act caused them great anxiety.

Just call me sugar tit.

My Apologies

2006-08-11T06:24:00.000-07:00

To all of my Bloggy Buddies whom I have not visited lately. I miss the fun.

Today is the big day. Yesterday, the corporate Hoo Haws made the boss so angry that she actually cried. I knew exactly how she felt. It was a screw this who needs you people and your stupid fucking job moment.

I told her the same thing I keep telling myself. Remember September. They're sending us to Hawaii on the company nickel. If we can't hang on for any other reason, we can hang for that.

I am on my way out the door and looking forward to one thing only today. That dinner and bottle of wine at the Olive Garden after the big brouhaha is over.

Bank loan my ass.

Financial Freedom

2006-08-10T08:40:00.000-07:00

If you look on the left hand side of this blog, about halfway down, you will see a category of links entitled Women & Financial Freedom. It's something I have never truly achieved. Probably because I have never liked money.

It took me decades to recognize that money is about much more than filthy lucre. Money is about power and independence and having the means to do the things in life that one would like to do.

In my family, money was a dirty word and a family secret. I remember having to beg for money to buy Kotex when I was 15. Supposedly, I should have planned for this monthly event and saved for it. I don't remember the price of Kotex in 1964 but I do remember that my allowance was 70 cents a week. This was the event that caused my stepfather to realize that my allowance needed to be raised to $1.50.

That and a couple of other incidents served to take money and wrap it around a neat little package of guilt and shame for being female. In this respect, I can thank my parents for turning me into a flaming feminist.

They didn't understand money either, however. My stepfather, a privileged only child of older, well to do parents, thought that all of his problems were due to having too much money and resolved to live poor. Never mind that his parents bought his house and his car and bailed him out every Christmas.

My mother grew up on the heels of the depression. 'Nuff said there.

I dutifully walked through life with financial blinders on, believing that I was at the mercy of fate and circumstance.

Here is my advice: Don't go there. Women have as much capacity to understand money as do men. Educate yourself even if you don't yet have great earning power. Even if you don't like the idea of money. Even if you believe yourself to be financially retarded. Even if you don't have a job outside the home with a paycheck.

Even if money doesn't interest you.

You might win the lottery. But lottery winners who don't understand money are notorious for losing millions. I think that the trick just might be that you have to rule your money instead of letting your money, or your lack of it, rule you.

Wow!

2006-08-09T19:38:00.000-07:00

My second ever seriously nasty, completely illiterate and psychotic comment from a wing nut fundie.

Now and forever consigned to the trash bin.

You don't scare me Wing Nut.

More with the Dog. And Three a.m. Blues.

2006-08-08T20:15:00.000-07:00

Could we do some sort of a jazzy riff with that? It has a nice ring to it. Something on the order of Sonny Terry and Brownie McGee:

Took my dog to the vet
They gave her a shot
Came back with more meds
And my dog she was hot...

I got the flea bitten, tree sniffin', moon howlin'
Wake me up at 3 a.m. blues................

Poor Jaz showed me her doggie bum last night and she had chewed around her tail until she drew blood. I am a bad doggie mom. I got myself out of bed and bathed her, then sprayed her li'l bum with a hydrocortisone spray.

This morning? More blood. Not good. I managed to get away from work about 3 p.m. and took her to the vet.

Let me digress. This vet was cute. As in cute. Late 30's with a long mop of frizzy, not quite strawberry blonde hair, freckles, tall and thin. She was wearing this really cute, long pencil skirt in a golden tan. Very nice.

LavenderDE agrees with me. Girls do this kind of thing better than boys.

She decided to get very aggressive with the skin problem. She gave Jaz a cortisone shot. She gave her an ear wash solution and neomycin drops for her ears. She gave her a salve for the little boogers around her nose. She gave her a new shampoo and an oral antibiotic because she has a bacterial overgrowth along with the yeast infection on her skin.

The dog is a happy grrl. The itch is gone and she is sleeping peacefully at my feet. So where does the 3 a.m. part come into all of this?

I'm doing another early morning playing like I'm a nurse gig. Actually, Nurse Debbie was more than kind and said I didn't have to be there until 5 to relieve her. Now that's team work.

So, it wouldn't be such a big deal if I didn't have this audit coming up on Friday. Thank the goddess for people like Nurse Angie and Nurse Josie who are going through charts like Ninja Nurses.

And that's the story of why I will not be here on Wednesday morning.

What I Have Learned From My Dog

2006-08-08T08:18:00.000-07:00

It was a long and circuitous route this morning but I am confident that Michelle O'Neill will be happy to know that ultimately, she is responsible for the content of this morning's post.

Everything I have learned from my dog(s):

*How to make friends by sniffing butts.

*How to drop from frantic activity into a dead sleep in under 5 seconds.

*How to beg.

*Better ways to harass the cat.

*How to make a gourmet meal out of the trash bag.

*How to whine in a manner that is both cute and pitiful.

Which brings me to the subject of my family. I am sure they thought that by my mid 50's I would grow up to behave like an adult.

Unfortunately for them, the older I become, the more pleasure I derive from making people uncomfortable. Why wait until I'm 70 to wear purple? Life is short. I could be hit by a truck tomorrow.

The Dyke Discoveries

2006-08-07T08:10:00.000-07:00

will have to wait. I am so not on time this morning. Typical for a Monday after taking numerous crisis calls from the facility.

It was my standard weekend of fear and loathing in east county, waiting for the other shoe to drop. This week will continue to be more of the same.

We have an auditor coming in on Friday to show just how well (or how badly) the nursing staff is performing. And a bank loan appears to rest on our performance.

I assume I will have to simply continue to fiddle while Rome burns and accept the outcome. But I can assure you, this week at the Funny Farm will not be pretty.

Happy Monday people.

Mommy Blogger Wars?

2006-08-06T15:15:00.000-07:00

I considered doing a passionate post about the mommyblogger wars; the kind of post that is linked and quoted all around the blogosphere.

Then I thought, fuck it. I'm more interested in lesbians.

Don't get me wrong. I love mommybloggers. They do all sorts of very cool things and they can write like Virginia Woolf on speed. (That's a compliment).

Most of them seem to be IT folks, or professional journalists, or doctoral candidates. Or they own 3 businesses and bake brownies for the PTA all at the same time. They give me a horrendous case of Low Self Esteem. I could barely raise myself let alone a bunch of kids. And make another adult human happy at the same time? Ha ha ha.

They're all young enough to be my grandchildren and they homeschool while making blackberry jam and kneading whole grain bread dough.

Me? I can barely get in my 10 hours at work and then my only goal is to see if I can drink myself into a coma with my one glass of wine at night. I'm almost old enough to accomplish that much.

It's no wonder the feminists (and I count myself as one of them) want the mommybloggers to stop. They make us look bad. Frankly, I'm jealous. I'm jealous of their youth, their energy, their connectedness, and their creativity.

Rock on Mommy Bloggers. And never forget: the hand that rocks the cradle rules the world.

Note to those who will feel obligated to point this out to me: I know that many mommybloggers are feminists and that not all career women are. And that you can be both a career woman and a mommy.

The Breakfast Club

2006-08-05T12:40:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting at my computer drinking a blend of Starbuck's Kali Kampung, and Les Beans Salvadore Dolly with my last few beans of Ethiopian Sophie thrown in for good measure. It's a dark, smooth blend with just the tiniest bit of a tang.

Patti and Desiree of Les Beans coffee fame have a new blog featuring Lola Bean and recounting their travels to Pride festivals around Florida. I'm thinking they ought to head west next year. In fact, I'm thinking they ought to start their real life coffee house right here in Hillcrest (hereinafter referred to as Gay Town).

I have my new Cafe 67 coffee mug. This is where I get frustrated with myself for not getting on the computer thing. A picture of the mug would be perfect here. It's a heavy black mug with a very cool pink and white logo. I'm stylin' and my coffee is hot.

The Cafe 67 link, by the way, ought to take you to the review I did over at Mr. Breakfast. Now here is a website to make a breakfast lover's heart go pitter pat. It's filled with recipes, message boards, and great places to eat. The next time I take a road trip, I'm going to map out my route by restaurants.

If someone would put a Cafe 67 next to a Les Beans coffee shop in Gay Town they would make a killing. The Silly Deli just ain't all that.

Wise Women

2006-08-04T08:30:00.000-07:00

It just feels appropriate this morning to feature some wise women. We have had some rain here in SoCal. I'm drinking the inimitable Mon Ami Zoe. And it is by gosh, by golly, FRIDAY!

Worth watching:

My new favorite spiritual woman.

On Bill Moyers' Faith & Reason, airing Friday, August 4 at 9 p.m. on PBS, Pema Chödrön, whose teachings and writings on meditation have helped make Buddhism accessible to a broad Western audience, talks about how her own spiritual search led her to becoming a Buddhist nun. "Everybody has the potential, without exception - every living being has the potential to awaken."

Worth reading:

My new favorite poet found at Matrifocus.

Eve, Afterwards
by Patricia Monaghan

We have a single photo from that night:
fresh from the pool, hair in wet ringlets,cuddled into identical white robes,
heads tilted together, glasses raised
in a toast to friendship as the sun
sets in a blaze of red behind us.

No one could mistake us for the girls
we were when we met, those wild ones
up north who drank beer from pitchers
and would dance with almost anyone
and rarely saw dawn from the daylight side.

In that photo, it's hard to see our eyes,
set in their thickets of tiny lines. But I remember:
how they still flame with joy and wildness and —
in you, my oldest friends — unquenchable desire.
I know our juice is richer now, more
intoxicating; our laughter is fuller-bodied
now but just as sweet; I understand that we
are growing into fullness just like aging vines.

Worth contemplating:

In-Between: Mother becoming Crone
by Nancy Vedder-Shults

Worth considering:

In the American Prospect.

Send Up the Clowns
By Maud Newton
Issue Date: 02.05.06

It could probably be shown by facts and figures that there is no distinctly native criminal class except Congress,” Mark Twain once observed.

Have a blessed day.

Drop Out

2006-08-03T08:22:00.000-07:00

Jaz and I have dropped out of obedience training. She remained at the bottom of the class. This was in part my fault and in part because she cannot or will not concentrate in class while surrounded by dozens of people and dogs strolling by the ring and peering in to say "Oh what a cute baby!"

By class 3, the instructor was no longer interested in her and forgot to come work with her while we were practicing "come" and loose leash walking around the store. I figured it was $99 well spent as I gleaned enough to work with her at home on the basics. A rocket scientist she will never be.

I did learn recently that she knows how to hump an arm, something I broke Maggie of by 5 months old by throwing her a teddy bear and teaching her how to hump the bear. This weekend I really need to shop for a teddy bear. Or some other very large stuffed animal with nice fur.

Today at the Funny Farm, I will be tearing out my hair while trying to fill all of the open shifts for the weekend. We had to let one of my favorite nurses go yesterday. Great nurse. Too much personal baggage. She went off on me and the other nurses 2 days in a row. I couldn't cover for her anymore.

And I'm out of work coffee. This means I will have to make a stop on my way and be more late than usual. I have no excuses. Disorganization is my middle name.

Don't Ask

2006-08-02T02:31:00.000-07:00

It's not quite 0230 and I am dressed and drinking my morning coffee. I'm splitting the night shift with a p.m. nurse who agreed (under some duress I might add) to stay until 3 a.m.

LavenderDE stayed to do the 3 to 11 shift in the "easy" cottage. That is to say there are 21 higher functioning residents who can usually tell you if you have given them the wrong medication. I told her to finish the evening meds a.s.a.p. and turn the keys over to another nurse by 10 at the latest.

We're too damn old for this kind of thing. But I'll still have to hang in today until certain key tasks are accomplished.

So why oh why am I wasting precious time writing on my blog? Who the hell else is going to listen to me whine?

The Middle Classization of Lesbian Life

2006-08-01T08:25:00.000-07:00

OK. Middle classization is not a real word. But I am stunned, as I sit here this morning drinking my Les Beans Costa Rita coffee, to realize that there is an entire world of lesbians out there who would never find themselves sitting on my tin can ass front porch. They don't even have porches. They have verandahs.

That's not entirely correct because in my younger days I ended up at a few parties where I felt like I had once upon a time missed the boat and swimming to China would not get me on it.

Then I got to thinking. All of this talk about gay marriage and equal rights. There are lesbians out there who want nothing more than to be just like everyone else. Maybe I got into this lesbian thing for all of the wrong reasons. I never wanted to be like everyone else.

I always thought of lesbians as daring and different: She who dared to take the road less traveled.

Nursing is about the only thing I do that could be considered middle of the road. I wanted to grow up to be a cross between Judy Grahn and Mary Travers. I still want that.

I don't mind that people consider me eccentric. In fact, I am entertained by my eccentricities.

This is another hurried post that requires a later addition, complete with links. Because I just cannot wrap my head around this concept. I begin to feel a kinship with some of the feminists made crazy by the return to home and hearth by legions of women.

Huh?

Colonel Mustard. In the Library.

2006-07-31T08:10:00.000-07:00

Who killed the electric car? Just ask Redneck Mother. She has some answers that will leave you frothing at the mouth this morning.

Hint: It was General Motors and the guv'mint smack in the middle of the murder plot.

I'm drinking Les Beans Ethiopian Sophie. She's a dark and flavorful tease that Sophie. And 2 ounces wasn't enough. I'm going to have to order some more of her.

It's raining here in Redneck Country. In fact, it poured sometime during the night. I know this because my bathroom floor was soaked. It's not a leak in the roof. It's an exhaust fan without a cover. Since it never rains here in July, I neglected to leave a towel on the counter. Even though there were big fat thunder heads rolling over the mountains.

For those of you who long ago gave up on my links, look to your left. Not only have they been fixed. They have also been expanded. And I have that nifty little technorati search this blog embed. Cool huh?

If I forgot to add you, feel free to spank me. HA!

Identity & Obligation: BlogHer Workshop

2006-07-30T11:52:00.000-07:00

Workshop Topic #1: Identity & Obligation

Do you control which parts of your identity are exposed?

A: To a degree, yes. I work for a Mormon owned company. And while they hire openly gay department heads, the corporate culture is very family oriented. I don't want an employee with a personal issue to Google me and be able to say, without a doubt, that 21st Century Lesbian Trailer Trash is my blog. More so even because of my left wing politics than because of my sexual orientation.

Do you feel an obligation to represent for your gender, race or culture?

A: I feel an obligation to represent for my gender and for the LGBT culture in real life so of course this is reflected in my blog. However, I do not feel that anyone else has an obligation to do the same. This is such a highly personal choice. Some people resent feeling forced to address topics that might place them in any particular category and I respect that. The internet is such a wonderful medium for creative and personal expression. I love the opportunity to fly the flag of my choice. And I love that everyone else gets to choose also.

Do you feel you’re not allowed to comment on issues facing a group to which you don’t belong?

A: No. But I do believe that specific groups have the right to say what is, for example, racism and what is not. So many white folks are unaware of the pervasiveness of racist thought and action in our culture. Yet they persist in asking questions like "But why are you so angry?" Or, "Why can you talk about white people and I can't talk about [black, asian, hispanic] you?"

It's human to be egocentric. But in this century, we need to shut our mouths and step outside ourselves a bit in order to consider the other point of view. And it's critical for all of us to recognize that there are some things we cannot understand because, simply, we are not living it every day.

Discussion Questions:

How do you decide what aspects of your identity you will reveal in your blog: culture, sexual orientation, political ideology, religion?

A: Probably the only topic I stay away from with much regularity is my spiritual practice. I do complain about fundamentalism, particularly christian fundamentalists, but more from a political perspective than religious. I truly don't have a problem with christian fundamentalism. It's the interface between that and the government that makes me crazy. We do, theoretically, have religious freedom in this country.

How do you feel about using your real name? Your childrens’ names?

A: I do not have children but I don't think I would use their names. I don't use the names of my siblings or my nieces on my blog. Pam is my real name but I am protective of my surname because it is somewhat unusual. I am certain that I have made some people angry and I really do not want them knocking on my front door.

If you blog about your race, religion, etc, - or even a personally difficult time of your life - do you feel it opens you (and your family) up to attack and/or do you feel it is a wonderful way to promote acceptance and diversity?

A: I think both are true. People are people. Some are open to new ideas and new ways of thinking. Some are not. It's a risk that we all take every day in life. So why not on my blog?

Of Bodily Functions & BlogHer

2006-07-29T13:35:00.000-07:00

Mimi Smartypants is talking about feminism and navigating the white water rapids of gender nazism (my phrase, not hers) in our culture while raising a daughter. After painfully dissecting this patriarchal bugaboo, she decides she may as well write about poop. And it's the funniest poop discussion I have seen in some time:

Nora tells me she has to poop. "Then go," I say. When does this stage of The Toilet Report end? She is fully trained, she needs no assistance, why must I be so very informed on her bowel activity? Anyway, she is in there for much longer than normal, so I go to see if everything is okay.

Me: Are you done?

Nora: I'm waiting.

Me: Waiting for what? If you pooped out all the poop, you are done.

Nora: There was only one piece of poop.

Me: Well, ah, it's different every time. If that's all there is, just wipe and move on.

Nora: Mommy, listen to me. I always have three pieces of poop. This time there was only one. I need two more.

Is it wrong of me to discuss poop and BlogHer in the same entry?

Shannon, over at Phat Mommy, is hosting a virtual BlogHer conference of her own.

Workshop Topic #1: Identity & Obligation

Do you control which parts of your identity are exposed? Do you feel an obligation to represent for your gender, race or culture? Do you feel you’re not allowed to comment on issues facing a group to which you don’t belong?

Discussion Questions:

How do you decide what aspects of your identity you will reveal in your blog: culture, sexual orientation, political ideology, religion?

How do you feel about using your real name? Your childrens’ names?

If you blog about your race, religion, etc, - or even a personally difficult time of your life - do you feel it opens you (and your family) up to attack and/or do you feel it is a wonderful way to promote acceptance and diversity?

Feel free to join in. I will probably answer these questions later during the weekend.

I Cannot Stand It

2006-07-29T08:45:00.000-07:00

What makes Ann Coulter so special? She cannot tell one state from another, she cannot get her facts straight, and she pawns herself off as a serious intellectual when in fact she is nothing more than a very bad cabaret comedy act.

She called Al Gore a fag. Ooooooooh. I'm tellin'!

The woman is a glorified schoolyard bully. She's from the poo poo and pee pee school of insult. And she isn't much more than a C student when it comes to her knowledge base.

Or perhaps she is a very smart lady who thinks that dumbing down endears her to her right wing fan club. In which case they ought to consider dumping her like a 3 month old casserole that's been forgotten in the back of the refrigerator. There's a stink somewhere but you just can't find it.

Just For Syd

2006-07-28T21:56:00.000-07:00

This is Syd's refrigerator of which she says That I have 2.5 Gallons of beer plus a hunk of Velveeta in my refrigerator doesn't make me White Trash. It makes me a Redneck.

Right now I am not drinking beer. I am drinking Bella Sera pinot grigio; a crisp and fruity white, with a delightfully sour bite that grabs the back of your throat. It's cheap too. Less than $10 a bottle.

Instead of Velveeta in my frig, I have aged cheddar and hot pepper jack. Does this make me uptown white trash? Because I still live in a mobile home.

Here is her favorite vanity license plate (or an approximation thereof): Grrl Toy.

What good is life if you can't yank someone's chain every now and then?

I'm going take my pinot grigio and watch a really bad movie, filled with violence, rap, and hopefully one or two naked women.

Always A Bridesmaid

2006-07-28T08:15:00.000-07:00

...never a bride.

The BlogHer 06 Conference is taking place in San Jose this weekend. It's easy to sink into the depths of despair, believing that all of the cool people are there while we mope around the lonely net looking for friends in low places.

Not so! I could easily have attended but had to make a conscious decision, because of other obligations and my upcoming trip in September, to stay home and take care of business.

Mom101 will be snapping pics single fisted because she already has a drink in the other hand. Stay tuned. They should prove to be wild and wonderful.

MetroDad has a great post about why BlogHim wouldn't ever fly.

I am drinking Brokeback Bette from Les Beans coffee. Now here is a grrl with a kick ass attitude. Dark, rich, and flavorful, she is far more complex than you would expect of a dyke from Detroit who loves her some sheep, some women, and a camp fire. Ride 'em cowgirl! Not for sissies, I highly recommend this blend.

For those of us who are left behind to mind the store: blog on comadres!

You Can Breathe Now

2006-07-27T22:00:00.000-07:00

For those who insist that they must know, KMae bought an anniversary gift for her partner, Doris. She describes it thusly:

...a lovely Italian sculptured, exquisite golden cat bangle for my lover. Two gorgeous, sleek (dare I say slick?!) pussys facing each other.

Lesbians are so creative when it comes to talking about sex and genitalia, don't you think?

It's well past sundown so I am off the coffee and on to Dry Creek Vinyard chardonnay. It's a rather sweet white wine with a distinct taste of green apples.

I did bring home the nurses' schedule for August to work on. I thought about trying to do it while toasted and then thought better of it. It will be more fun to lie around and watch Laura Croft beat the crap out of a bunch of guys with more brawn than brains.

Why?

2006-07-27T07:50:00.000-07:00

Does Blogger seem to want to have a complete and total nervous breakdown everytime I have something cool to post? It's really time to seriously activate my Typepad site.

When I come home this evening, I'll try to post about KMae's Golden Pussies. In the meantime, enjoy your Thursday.

I'm drinking Seattle's Best Henry's blend this morning. Any package with a cat (read Pussy) on the package has got to be good.

I Don't Care Who You Sleep With

2006-07-26T06:44:00.000-07:00

(Angry Dyke Alert)

This has got to be the dumbest thing that straight people utter when they find out you're queer. The first time someone actually said that to me, I was floored. Then it pissed me off.

It took me awhile to figure out why that response made me so angry. I thunk on that 'til my head was about to explode when it finally occurred to me to ask "Why don't you care who I sleep with? I thought we were friends?"

If you're my friend, I care who you sleep with. I don't care if it's a man or a woman. I don't need to know the details of your sex life. But I care that it's someone who makes you happy. Someone who loves you and who lights up your life. Someone who is present when you need them and who understands your little pieces of personal wierdness.

Imagine you're 16 and Tommy asks you to the prom. The proper response of your friends generally goes something like this:

*squeal* Did he kiss you? Do you like him? Is he cute?

Being 16, they will eventually ask you if you plan on "doing it" with him. This is normal. But we are not 16 anymore.

Imagine that you are 25 and Bob asks you to marry him. Instead of asking about wedding plans, honeymoons, houses and how many children you want, your friends and family are picturing the 2 of you having sex. Because isn't that what relationships are all about?

Truly, I don't care with whom you have casual sex either. Unless it's my girlfriend. But to reduce my sexual identity to nothing more than bedroom activities is insulting. And the message is that I have this life out there that matters to you. And one dirty little secret that is better kept quiet.

When I first started to come out, I found myself surrounded by people who told me I was still OK despite being gay. Like I was a disabled person who had to overcome a major handicap.

I was confused and frightened enough that I halfway bought it. Eventually though, I began to question what I had done to suddenly have partial citizenship thrust upon me.

Here's a news flash: God made me. The Universe gave me intelligence, wit and talent. Along with an attraction to women. I didn't study up on homosexuality and decide that was the "lifestyle" I wanted.

And by the way, a life style is what you read about in Better Homes & Gardens. It is not about which gender rocks your world.

It is not all about sex.

Always Check Your Links

2006-07-25T07:51:00.000-07:00

It seems that yesterday I may have been sending people to a lesbian porn site instead of to Les Beans Coffee.

Hmmmmm. Did y'all have fun?

I know the party line is supposed to be that we hate pornography because it is sick and unhealthy and twists peoples' minds; especially the minds of young boys and men.

I just hate porn because it's so unrealistic. Like I'm gonna have a 3 way just so some dude can get off.

Plus, once I click on a link, even by accident, my spam box starts getting 500 emails a day.

This morning I am drinking Les Beans Mon Ami Zoe. She's a dark, rich roast with a little bit of spice and a nice kick.

It's Tuesday and I am under the gun at work. But I decided to take some of the pressure off and stop house hunting. It can wait until after the Holidays.

Since I made the decision, I suddenly find myself cleaning my messy house. It just might be ready for my sister in September. Yay me!

LesBeans Save the Day

2006-07-24T08:25:00.000-07:00

Blogger had a mini mental breakdown this morning and almost sent me screaming out of the house. That is, until I smelled the rich aroma of Sumatra Momma.

Here's the party line: She has a full, voluptuous body and a stature as majestic as her island flowers. Her voice is rich and chocolaty, and as soft as a sea breeze.

Well. I couldn't have said it better myself. For those odd ducks who dislike chocolate, do not be alarmed. It's not that sweet syrupy stuff that Momma offers. It's that full, rich, and just a tiny bit bitter, note that the cocoa bean adds. Kind of like singing the blues on a sunlit summer morning with the soft sound of the waves rolling on the beach.

Isn't it just like The Lesbians to always save the day?

Jaz, dear dog that she is, is still at the bottom of her obedience class. While she did not pee on the instructor this time, she still refuses to take a toy, look at the instructor, or even take a cookie from her. She did sniff the butts of all the other dogs however. This led the instructor to say "Well, her social skills are improving."

Like many problem children, she performs beautifully at home. But put her with the other children and she's a mess. I think she may have to repeat puppy school before we move on.

The Sweet Scent of Sunday

2006-07-23T07:15:00.000-07:00

When I was a little girl, every day and every season had a certain smell and a particular quality to the light. On Sundays, the air was heavy with flowers, fried chicken and biscuits. The light was a warm yellow, dripping buttery streaks across the pastel dresses of little girls on their way to church.

Sundays were quiet and peaceful. When I was very young, there was no such thing as shopping on a Sunday. Stores were always closed on Sundays. The entire world entered a cocoon of silent reflection.

Salvadore Dolly is a Sunday sort of coffee; sweet, mellow, and dreamy. Just as advertised. I opened the package and smelled that fresh earth scent found in some of the best beans. Not overly strong, Dolly is full and round in the mouth with just a hint of something sweet. Nice.

So what was I doing brewing coffee at 5 a.m. on a Sunday? For some odd reason, Sempra Energy called me at 0430. No message left. It must have been a wrong number because they hung up as soon as the message said "This is Pam."

Thirty minutes of tossing and turning was all I could take. It was still 80 degrees in the house with the swamp cooler and all of my fans going. Opening windows did not help. It was 80 degrees outside too.

I found a few things while blog surfing this weekend that seem worthy of sharing on a Sunday. The first is Michelle O'Neill's post about forgiveness. She has a young daughter who is autistic:

Dr. Cole-Whittaker’s presentation lasted over three hours, and at one point during her talk, I caught a glimmer of something.

-What if I thanked the government and the drug companies for the journey autism has taken us on?

-What if we were to use all we’ve learned from the experience, as a launching pad to take ourselves further than we’d ever have gone?

-What if these sweet babies are not victims, but have volunteered for the assignment to take a whole generation of parents to a level of consciousness they never would have come close to?

All I know is.... as we grow spiritually, Riley continues to get better. It’s as if she's on a sacred mission, and until her parents really “get it“ she must hold out.

I made mention last week of Bint Alshamsa's post on racism. A young wife and mother, she deals every day with incurable cancer. One wonders how the Universe can be so cruel. Yet her heart is large and her spirit is strong. Every minute that she is on the planet is a gift not just to her family, but to all of us. Check out her Photo site also.

Then there is wee Millie who at the age of 2 is also dealing with cancer. Her family is something to be admired. Ordinary people thrust into extraordinary circumstances and facing them with love, courage, and an openness to life.

Today I will drop off my laundry at the fluff and fold, stop by my work to complete a couple of small but pressing tasks, hopefully clean a bit, take Jaz to obedience training, and look at another house.

Perhaps I can keep my blessings in front of me instead of tucked away in some hidden corner where I forget to consider them.

OMG! Salvadore Dolly Has Arrived

2006-07-22T15:16:00.000-07:00

Along with a few of her very good friends: Mon Ami Zoe, Costa Rita, Brokeback Bette, Sumatra Momma, and Ethiopian Sophie.

If it was not once again 112 in Redneck Country (I kid you not), I would brew some right now. But at the very least I will have to wait until after dark. And since it is a weekend night, I can risk the caffeine.

Oh mama! Les Beans has come through for me.

Bull SHIT!

2006-07-22T10:20:00.000-07:00

At the risk of being brow beat by disabled rights activists, here is my question: What do you do with a 380 pound quadriplegic when your hospital has been evacuated, you are surrounded by flood waters, cut off from supplies, and the cavalry ain't a comin'?

From Truthout:

Fury Meets Katrina Hospital Arrests
By Richard Fausset and Ann M. Simmons
The Los Angeles Times
Friday 21 July 2006
Doctors defend the accused: "The people who were not here" are to blame for deaths.

New Orleans - This week's arrest of a doctor and two nurses who stayed through Hurricane Katrina to care for stranded hospital patients - but are now accused of killing four of them - has prompted a strong backlash in the medical and legal communities here...

[Dr. Anna] Pou, 50, and nurses Lori L. Budo, 43, and Cheri A. Landry, 49, were booked Monday on suspicion of second-degree murder for allegedly injecting patients with lethal drugs at Memorial Medical Center on Sept. 1. It was three days after Katrina struck New Orleans, leaving the city in chaos and deep water. There was no electricity, water or phone service at the hospital, and only a few rescue boats were available for evacuations...

"By personal accounts from nurses, doctors, administrators, and support personnel who knew Dr. Pou and had worked with her closely in the months before Katrina, her work during the crisis was 'heroic,' 'selfless' and 'distinguished,' " Nuss said in a prepared statement. "With other dedicated doctors and nurses, she worked without sleep and without nourishment…. At great self-sacrifice, she prevented further loss of life and has been credited with saving multiple people from dying.

"Apparently there were individuals in the hospital who could not understand why so many people were dying," Nuss' statement continued. "Allegations were made, egregiously accusing Dr. Pou and the others of giving too much narcotic pain medication, and even using the word 'euthanasia.' This attracted national news coverage, which became absurdly sensationalistic..."

Investigators allege the suspects killed four patients - all residents of a long-term care ward - with a drug cocktail of morphine and midazolam, which is commonly used to relieve pain and anxiety among long-term-care patients.

In an affidavit, a witness alleges that Pou said "lethal" doses of the drugs would be given to a number of patients on the ward.

Among the patients was a 380-pound paralyzed man who was "aware, conscious and alive," according to the affidavit.

Did they have the right to euthanize people? No. Did they? We don't know that. But we weren't there dealing with the aftermath of Katrina were we?

While we're at it, why not put GW on trial for being an accessory to murder. After all, he ignored the call when it was sounded. He has a huge share in the fact that those people were left in an untenable situation and without help in the first place.

Mixed Bag

2006-07-21T08:23:00.000-07:00

I anticipate a hellacious day at the Funny Farm. So I have spent my early morning blog surfing in hopes of finding the perfect post. Well, at least a giggle or three.

In my email I found this:

Save America's Wolves

Alaska's majestic gray wolves are in grave danger. Marksmen use low-flying planes to chase the wolves, shooting them from the skies or running them to exhaustion and killing them at point-blank range. Like all living creatures, these wolves deserve a fair chance at survival. But instead of fulfilling our moral obligation to protect them as a legacy for future generations, the Bush administration has watched silently as hundreds have been massacred.

Then, I read about Israel's attacks on Lebanon in Soujourners Magazine.

Nothing brought home to me the devastation in Lebanon though, more than listening to a favorite waitress, Silva, talk about her family currently trapped in Beirut. Back in the day, Silva was a Lebanese freedom fighter and barely escaped with her life.

I have always been a champion of Israel. But the attacks on Lebanon are just wrong. They're killing civilians. And it won't stop the terrorists.

Then I read Jenn over at Reappropriate. One must see the humor in declaring this past week Blog Against Racism Week:

While I applaud having a bunch of bloggers discuss race politics, I'm going to side on the "anti-special-times-to-do-things" side this time around (in blatant disregard of the inherent hypocrisy of saying this and then celebrating Asian American Heritage Month) and ask: why should we make this week (of all weeks) International Blog Against Racism week? Shouldn't every week be committed to talking about race and/or racism? Does participating in this one week excuse all bloggers from talking about race for the rest of the year and still get to keep their "down for the cause" badge?

I blog about race and racism every week. It must be nice to be one of those bloggers who can ignore racism 51 weeks out of the year.

(Also, I just had to say it: I just love how the IBAR icons include two anime icons. Asiaphilia, anyone? God, I just gotta stop drinking the Haterade.)

And while we are on the subject, what's up with all of the hate toward Niobe? Read the article on My Private Casbah by Bint Alshamsa. It will make you weep.

I was happy to see that Twisty is Back From The Abyss after Boobalectomy 06 and engaged in retail therapy. It's good to have her back and kicking the fat ass of The Patriarchy.

Meanwhile, it turns out that Mocha Momma has some sort of shoe fetish and has been engaging in some retail therapy herself along with hiding out from other females who are brazen enough to copy her style. NursePam would not mess with NinjaMocha.

It's Official

2006-07-20T08:28:00.000-07:00

Salvadore Dolly is having herself mailed to me post haste. Don't be jealous just because we're a beautiful couple. I promise to share.

A Boy and His Dog

2006-07-19T20:30:00.000-07:00

There was a message on my answering machine on Monday evening from an obviously adolescent boy. The only things I could make out from the mumbled message were a name, which did not ring a bell, and the phrases "stay overnight" and "my mom's phone number."

The mystery was solved when R. left me a message on Tuesday. It was Jaz's boy, wanting to know if she could visit for awhile. M. has been out of summer school for a week now and he misses his dog. We talked for a little while and came up with a plan. They only live about 15 minutes down the freeway from me so it's easy.

I packed up her food, her wee pads, some treats, her leash, and a couple of toys. This evening I rushed home, fed her, and plopped her, unceremoniously into the bathtub. Not a happy camper.

But when I got to the freeway exit ramp, Jaz went nuts. When I pulled into the parking lot of their condo complex I thought the dog was going to take my face off in her attempt to fly through the window.

R. just could not believe how happy that little fur ball was to see her. She's still convinced Jaz will forget them. I don't think so. She danced, she wriggled, she raced crazily around the house to make sure everything was still there. She bounced from me to R. to M. and back again.

We showed M. the "sit, down, and wait" commands and how to work on loose leash walking. He is ready for the task, taking it quite seriously.

As soon as Jaz realized I was leaving her, she became agitated so I said my goodbyes and beat a hasty retreat. On the way out, R said "I feel so blessed that we found you." And once again I told her, I feel like I'm the one who received a gift.

I'll pick Jaz up on Friday afternoon. In the meantime she is safe with people who love her. And a young boy did not have to say goodbye to his dog forever.

It's Only Tuesday

2006-07-18T08:25:00.000-07:00

The computer is not together. After obedience training, Jaz and I napped most of the afternoon on Sunday. And it seems that all of the pieces were not present and accounted for anyway. The remainder arrived yesterday.

I did come to a realization however. That is, I am not overwhelmed by my house. But I sure have a hell of a lot to throw or give away.

Another realization. I am not going to freak out over that dumb job of mine. There is no point to it if I let them kill me. It turns out that one of the poor nursing directors called in on a weekend to check on her facility and the staff accused her of being drunk. Over the telephone.

She was probably exhausted, awoke groggily from a nightmare about her facility, and thought it would be a good idea to check and see if the staff had burned the place down while she slept.

Large corporations are all alike. Whatever they tell you, they don't care about people. They care about the bottom line. I'm gonna go play Nursie 8 hours a day and be done with it.

Pardon me, but it appears that my hippie cum revolutionary cum angry dyke roots are showing. Gonna find me some of that lezzie coffee and pout in my office this morning. And I'm too damned disgruntled to post a bunch of links.

The news sucks too. I'm on the hunt today for a really big belly laugh.

Balmy: Both Meanings

2006-07-16T11:30:00.000-07:00

It is a positively balmy 96 degrees outside at 11 a.m. And I'm still a wee bit crazy. I refuse to dismantle this computer until I have the new one 90% together and have a clear understanding of where everything else goes.

The dog had a bath this morning. And while we are on the subject of dog, does anyone know the best product to worm a 5 pound 5 ounce dog? The butt scraping on the carpets is not nice.

Also, I have itchy little bumps all over my arms. Both animals have been treated for fleas. I'm wondering if I'm allergic to Jaz's shampoo. Either that or I now have a good case of mites from her.

We go to obedience training this afternoon. I will be happy if Jaz doesn't cower in a corner like she did the last time.

And for the one who keeps bugging me about pics, give me about another week. In between my other projects, I have to figure out how to load my camera onto the new computer. Besides, Jaz ought to go to the groomer next Saturday. The bows over the ears are just too cute to miss.

I know everyone was waiting with bated breath to see if I was stuck on the floor. Not yet.

Oh. And the house. My friend found another one in the park that I am giving serious consideration to. It's a bit more expensive but needs no work. There is a glassed in California room, a nicely landscaped yard and beautiful siding. Also, this one has large windows which I love.

112 in Redneck Country

2006-07-15T14:47:00.000-07:00

If I am offline for a good portion of the remainder of the weekend, it will not be because of the godawful heat. It will be because my new Dell desktop, complete with 20 inch flat screen monitor has arrived. If I have a stroke, it will not be from the heat. It will be from the frustration of being 57 years old and crawling around on the floor wondering "where this F*ing piece goes".

On another front, there are issues going on with my boss and I should not be allowed anywhere near the internet lest I say something that I will dearly regret.

Oh. And the new house? It is not yet to be. I have the financing lined up but the price is $11K higher than originally quoted. I will end up in that park however. I don't care if it's a single wide tin can with no storage space.

Lezzie Beans!

2006-07-14T08:04:00.000-07:00

Actually, its Les Beans and they make Dyke Coffee. The pic on the left is their trademark bean. I hope they don't slap me down for using it. Thank you SaltySnack! She sent me to this article in the Southern Voice:

Grinding out a hot idea Two women put clever name, touch of sex appeal into their coffee
By SHERI ELFMAN
Friday, July 14, 2006

What do you get when you combine a nuclear medicine expert and a high school English teacher? You get the clever minds behind the new on-line coffee and tea store, Les Beans Coffee. Whichever way you want to pronounce it, you can’t deny the catchiness of the name.

Business and life partners Desiree Ramos-Aponti and Patti Lucia first ran the online coffee and tea store, The Boca Bean & Tea Company, for a year when they came up with the idea to start Les Beans.

If you go to their online store you find coffees with tantalizing and titillating names like Cafe Feminino, Salvador Dolly, Columbiana Loquita, Antigua Annie, and Mocha Lisa. They also offer fair trade organic teas and fair trade chocolate. There are some coffee gifts available and bean wear will be available at some time in the future.

I'm sorry Boca Bruce. I know I teased you with our little peccadillo and I hope you can forgive me once you mend your broken heart. We'll always have Papua New Guinea Quest and Coastal Costa Rica. But I'll probably be packing up my U Haul to move in with Salvador Dolly.

Power to the Pussy

2006-07-13T08:35:00.000-07:00

OK. This ought to be the post title that pulls in all of the trolls, spammers, and people searching for pornography. But I couldn't resist it. MochaMomma did a hilarious piece yesterday about being in her gynecologist's office and making the decision to put her panties on top of the clothing pile.

After all, this guy has seen her Ta Ta. What more is there? Oh. But there is more. Now she has plans to raise the flag at the BlogHer 06 conference here in California. We don't know all of the details yet but do monitor that blog.

Her panty piece put me in mind of something that happened to my sister almost 30 years ago. At that time I had a best friend named Kathleen. Kathleen was married to an OB-GYN by the name of Bill. Bill was notorious for boinking every nurse he could get his hands on. This drove them into couples counseling but that's a whole different story.

One day I was complaining that I could not find a Ta Ta doctor that I liked. Kathleen insisted that I go see Bill. I protested that that would be far too awkward as I frequently had to face Bill across the dinner table. Besides, we had this reputation of his to consider.

"Oh, that's different" Kathleen said airily. "He looks at vaginas all day long. It's just work to him. He won't remember what yours looks like when he sees you at the dinner table. Knowing Bill, he won't even remember that he saw yours."

We had this discussion several times before I finally broke down and made an appointment with Bill. It worked out fine. We were able to separate our personal and professional association with no difficulty.

Several years elapsed. My sister K. and her husband decided they were ready to try to get pregnant. K. had not found a gynecologist that she liked. I insisted that she go see Bill. She was a little reluctant because she really wanted a female gynecologist but she agreed to give Bill a try.

The day of the appointment dawns. It so happens that Bill greets K. in the waiting room. "Mrs. C., I'm Dr. E. Come right this way please." He turns her over to the nurse with not one indication that he has any clue who she is.

He enters the exam room after she has dressed herself in one of those little paper gowns. The exam proceeds with all of the usual poking, prodding, and history taking. Still no sign of a connection.

They reach the fun part where the woman lies on the exam table and puts her legs up in the stirrups and the doctor or the nurse says "Slide your bottom down. No, more. Further." Eventually your bottom and everything personal is hanging off the end of the table and your toes are high over your head.

Bill gets right down to business along with the usual grunts and inane chatter happening on the other side of the drape. The drape is so that you don't have to watch the doctor poking your private parts.

He picks up the speculum (ancient torture device), and just as he inserts the ice cold metal into K's Ta Ta he says "Ya know. I would know that you and Pam were sisters anywhere."

My sister, being much more traditionally conservative and well bred than I, nearly jumped off the table. Truly she thought he was referring to the look and configuration of our respective vaginas.

"Trust me," I told her later, "Bill has no clue what he said to you. He was trying to make pleasant conversation during an awkward moment. Remember. He's a man. He's clueless."

I don't think she ever completely trusted me on that.

I think had we been brave enough to wave the panty flag back in the days when women were burning their bras, feminism might have taken a turn for the better. After all, breasts are just a conduit for baby milk. But pussies? Pussies are where the real female power sits.

In your face people!

Feminism & The Average Woman

2006-07-11T08:28:00.000-07:00

Jenn, over at Reappropriate, has some interesting thoughts on social issues and academia. To wit, the feminist movement takes place largely in the hallowed halls of academe; thus rendering it inaccessible to the average woman.

What really surprised me was not so much that women of color feel marginalized in general, but that white women feel excluded because of "women of color only space" and that straight women believe that because they are not lesbians they are somehow excluded from the feminist movement.

Let's get a couple of things clear here. White women in general have to accept the fact that while we do not have white male privilege, we do have white person privilege. And straight women have heterosexual privilege.

But that isn't the issue here. The issue is that while we are having the discussion at all, the woman who is raising 3 kids and working at WalMart is completely cut off from the conversation.

Born from our need to legitimize Feminism by way of the academic community, we are leaving those women who might benefit in the dust.

My only solution is to live that old adage to make the personal political and the political personal. The majority of my employees fall into the category of working class woman. To spout feminist theory helps them not at all. But to help them frame their day to day issues within that context plants a seed from which a plant may grow.

The feminist movement will continue to go nowhere if we do not share our knowledge with others who will benefit. When I die, I don't want people to say "She was really smart." I want people to say "She helped me in life."

The Circle of the Life of Bigots

2006-07-10T08:29:00.000-07:00

Thanks to Elle Voyage, I found a 1959 article on the Blog of the Moderate Left. From the Minneapolis Star Tribune, it's about the attempt of the Minnesota legislature to write anti-miscegenation laws into their State constitution.

Would someone please explain to me how this is different from what is going on in the fight to prevent gay marriage?

1959 column by former Minneapolis Tribune columnist Catherine Kjerstinsen (1908-1977):

Opinion polls in 1959 revealed that a majority of Minnesotans support the proposed marriage amendment to the state Constitution, which would define marriage as the union of one man and one woman of the same race. That’s why a few Senate DFLers are working overtime to make sure that the full Senate — and you, the voters — don’t get to vote on it.

During the 1956 presidential campaign, Adalai Stevenson likened the push for interracial marriage to the fight against the Nazis. Sen. Hubert Humphrey agrees. “Discrimination isn’t just about other nations anymore,” he told WCCO Radio. “I still am not sure that if I had to depend on the Minnesota legislature to have my civil rights, that I would have them.” Humphrey claims that the proposed amendment would put discrimination in the Minnesota Constitution.

The NAACP, a negro advocacy organization, says that “[p]ublic opinion cannot be allowed to permanently enshrine discrimination into the Constitution.”

Miscegenation
1. The interbreeding of different races or of persons of different racial backgrounds.
2. Cohabitation, sexual relations, or marriage involving persons of different races.

Go to the Bottom of the Class

2006-07-09T14:53:00.000-07:00

So we started obedience training today. Jaz is not only the oldest dog in the class, but also the least obedient. While all of the other dogs listened to their owners, sat on command, followed "leave it" and "wait," Jaz whined, jumped in my lap, and generally acted like a pussy.

Loose leash walking? Not even in her Universe. According to her, it never will be.

She wouldn't even take treats from me. And she was downright rude to the trainer. She even peed on the floor while we were practicing the loose leash walking.

It's official. I have a problem child. I foresee lots of homework in our future.

Small Miracles

2006-07-08T23:15:00.000-07:00

I was just about to turn in my badge and give it up as a bad job. One day back from vacation and I ended up on a double shift. 2 full medication passes in the high acuity cottage. To be sure I had help on a few other things but by midnight I wanted to lie down in the middle of the floor and sleep for a week. My entire body hurt.

The poor little nurse who came in to relieve me at 8:30 had sprained her hand. She gave it that old college try but she couldn't even pop one pill out of the bubble pack. Somehow she patched together a night shift to cover herself and called her fiance` to take her to the emergency room. (At this point she really didn't know what was wrong. Her hand was numb and swollen, and she had chest pain).

I went over to my office at about 11:10 p.m. and mentioned (again) that we still had no night nurse for Sunday or Monday. Brat Nurse, who can be a spectacular leader on the days she feels like it, said that she would see what she could do.

Lo and behold she just called to tell me that she had done it. I could have cried. I could have kissed her. If I could have I would have given her a $5 raise.

Earlier, I went to my toy dog obedience class and I was the only one that showed up. So with a 15 minute orientation session I start tomorrow in a puppy class with 2 other dogs; a larger puppy and an 8 month old Yorkie.

They gave me 24 hours to teach her to respond to her name on cue. Not too difficult since she was halfway there. After I worked her for awhile, I scooped her up, swung by the Starbucks drive through, and went over to my friend Dixie's house. She had a place in her park for me to look at.

Twice the size of my home, in better shape with washer and dryer hook ups and central air. It's a prettier park and it is occupant owned. God Bless America. It's selling for less than I paid for mine. I have financing lined up. The only question is how fast can I sell my current home?

Everyone keep your fingers and toes crossed that I can make this fly.

Oh yeah. I had iced coffee with a splash of cream and specialty syrup. Dixie had her usual: passion fruit iced tea with lemonade and blackberry syrup. Good for whatever ails you.

Dancing Queen

2006-07-06T21:03:00.000-07:00

Swaying in the crowd, I saw her,
The tiny woman in the hot pink dress,
White strand of beads shimmering
In the dying summer light.

She closed her eyes,
Her beatific smile glowing;
She could feel it inside her
The music of the sweet jazz band.

She danced and danced
As though the world had vanished;
She danced and with that dance
I thought my heart would break.

Her tiny form swirled
Around and in and out the crowd;
She danced her love,
She danced her soul, she danced beyond.

Beyond the limits of her being,
Beyond the limits of all our seeing,
Beyond the sky and to the stars.
She danced and set me weeping.

Babies, Babies, Babies

2006-07-06T07:57:00.000-07:00

This piece, entitled Impious, is by a talented artist friend of mine by the name of Theresa Pergola. She and her partner live in NYC. About 2 & 1/2 years ago they had triplets with the help of artificial insemination. And beautiful children they are.

Between caring for her babies, one of whom has a developmental disorder, helping her partner who recently underwent back surgery, and working 40 hours per week, she wrote a book. Now that's energy.

It's a memory book for children conceived by other than ordinary means, called Born of Love.

Born of Love is a delightful journal that helps parents tell the story of their child’s first year. It contains 64 pages of beautiful black and white photographs, quotations and prompts to inspire memories, thoughts and reflections of their child’s first year. The spiral binding allows the book to lay flat when open for ease of writing. The superbly organized layout helps parents to:

Record milestones
Preserve special photographs
Create a family circle
Store cherished mementos
Keep vital medical information
Maintain important donor, surrogate and sibling information

Born of Love makes a wonderful baby gift for expectant or new parents. From preconception to their first birthday, a child will appreciate discovering the details of their beginnings.

We all yearn to be celebrated. Theresa has given her children, and thousands of others, a great big Welcome to the World.

Happy Independence Day

2006-07-04T12:10:00.000-07:00

The question of the week on my favorite message board is "Where do you see America headed during the next ten years?"

This has always been a vibrant and changing country. A country that has fostered change and growth in every aspect throughout our history. A country that has struggled and fought for the cause of liberty and justice for all. A country of rugged individualists and seekers of Truth.

But today and for the last several decades I have watched as we slide down the slippery slope of self interest and fear.

Racism remains rampant. Racial profiling has become the new necessity of terrorism. Personal privacy is no longer sacred. We talk about the greater good and the interest of the many over the few. And yet who does this serve?

It serves only the rich and the powerful. And it will not serve them in the end if the "little people" are left to founder in the morass of anger, fear, and despair. Sooner or later more people will wake up and realize that they indeed are not living the American dream; that they may never have an opportunity to live that dream. I foresee urban riots visiting us again if we do not take a hard turn toward fixing what is wrong with this country.

We care more about profit and power than we care about children, the poor, the elderly, the ill and the infirm. During the settlement of the old west, people banded together to care for each other. Yes, there were some shameful times during that history. But remembering that people are a product of their times, we must forgive those people and recognize that they were forming true communities. Not perfect communities, but communities in which every person had an important and valued role to play.

Today, the world is our village. And yet America seems once again to want to close its doors and huddle behind the sofa as though we are in the midst of the London blitz. If we do not get over the great fear that all the world wishes to do us harm and take away all of our toys, we will surely die behind that sofa.

*The opinions in this entry are in no way connected with Sojourners Magazine.

All That Jaz

2006-07-03T19:14:00.000-07:00

I bought a new Dell computer today with all the trimmings. I'm so excited. It should be here in about a week or so. Then I'll be able to post pics of fun things like the dog, my messy office, and my little tin house.

Today we took a trip to the regular vet; that is not Dr. Ford. Jaz needed to have her vaccines updated and I also wanted to get a look at her medical record and establish a baseline for her.

What I have learned (and what was again confirmed today) is that one must be very assertive with the average vet. It was necessary to ask him leading questions like "Isn't it true that chronic skin conditions in dogs are frequently associated with food allergies and/or immune disorders?"

The first thing he recommended was a lower protein diet. So we had to have the discussion about protein wasting bowel issues. We agreed that I would start her on a prescription diet but that he would draw a total protein and albumin on her which won't tell me if she has irritable bowel but it will let me know if she is currently in the safe zone. Her stool is somewhat funky which can be an indicator of irritable bowel.

He prescribed an anti itch shampoo to use after the antifungal shampoo for comfort. He also gave us some special fish oil capsules with Omega 3 and other fatty acids for her skin. And we also picked up a newer product called Revolution for combating fleas, ticks, scabies and heatworm. Pretty nifty.

What I learned was that this dog has never been tested for heartworm, has never had thorough basline blood work, and has never been given anything other than the antifungal shampoo to treat her skin condition. I'm not entirely convinced that the importance of these things were thoroughly outlined to this woman. Because I believe if she had understood the big picture she would have followed through.

I had to push to get the vet to take the next step. He wasn't about to take it any further. This is not a shoddy street corner vet. It is one of the better veterinary clinics in the county. People bring their animals from miles away and have done so for years.

Her previous owner is a loving, caring, educated professional woman. She loved this little dog and took wonderful care of her. But she doesn't know what I have learned the hard way. "Don't take their word for it." R. did extensive research before buying this dog.

Jaz came from a Texas breeder. We are in California. If you must buy a purebred, I heartily advise against it without seeing the dogs and the kennels. Educate yourself about common medical problems found in the breed and ask what the breeder has done to select out those traits.

Over 50% of all purebred animals end up in shelters within the first 2 years of life. This is right where Jaz was headed. She might be there right now, or worse, had Maggie not died when she did. Because of her skin condition she might not have been so easy to place. Or she might have been placed with someone who is ignorant of the time and expense with caring for such a dog, ending in a failed adoption.

I'm glad that I have her. She's a real sweetheart. But she will always be a high maintenance animal. How I wish that we could eliminate irresponsible breeders. The shelters are full of wonderful animals waiting for adoption.

Trailer Trash Stories

2006-07-01T13:00:00.000-07:00

Holy BatDyke Robin. The 3 of us slept in until 10:30 a.m. yesterday morning. (The 3 of us being the cat, the dog, and myself). It was an ungodly 94 degrees outside. And it was 88 indoors. This is because I turned off the swamp cooler to save on energy.

This morning was only a few degrees cooler. 91.

I received an email this week from the woman who authors onsilverwings.com

It seems that she was doing some sort of search (trailers maybe?) and ran across this blog. Cool beans. She's smart, funny, and adventurous. I called her darlin' in my reply and she says this means I am coming dangerously close to becoming a redneck.

Anyway, I decided to do a google search of trailer trash. I showed up on page 7 with my Kinja card. Big whoop. But I also discovered that there were several porno flicks made called Trailer Trash Nurses. How much do you want to bet that most of them contained some ersatz lesbian love scenes?

Then there is the honky tonk country band that calls itself Trailer Trash. It has to be good.

I also found the Barbie alternative: Trailer Trash Talkin' Turleen

If Barbie makes you want to puke, and memories of your childhood being forced to play with Barbie dolls induces nightmares, we have the cure. Introducing Trailer Trash Talkin' Turleen. Yes that's right, a burping, beer drinking, cigarette smoking, 12 inch tall doll, the exemplifies true American White Trash. Press her belly, (it's big because she's got one in the oven) and she will share some pearls of wisdom with the sophistication and style that makes her family and third grade teacher proud.

"..Pour me a double, I'm drinking for two..."- Turleen

Funny picture for the day: The little fella who found an open bar in an art museum.

Political story for the day: Lumpyhead's post called Verily I Wanted to Throw Up. Commentary on the Mommy Wars and Linda Hirshman's discussion published in the Washington Post.

And phrase for the day comes from d over on dreams etc: It sucked donkey balls.

Cool Beans!

2006-06-30T20:27:00.000-07:00

This week my boss brought me a calendar and an application for training classes from the Petsmart in my neighborhood. So while I was out and about this afternoon, I stopped in to sign up for one.

One of the classes said Puppy/Toy and I wasn't sure if it was for toy breed puppies or for puppies and toy breeds. I walked right into the trainer for the class, a sweet little lady named Bea. It turns out that it was going to be either/ or, depending on who expressed the most interest. She has another lady with 3 toys who wants the class. She told me that if I signed up Jaz she would make it a toy breed class.

Of course, I grabbed the opportunity. This class sounds much better. It's 8 weeks instead of 6 and the first class is owners only. No dogs. She explains what we will be doing with the dogs and gives us homework to help prepare them for the class.

When I walked up to the register to pay, the check out clerk (baby dyke if ever I saw one) said, "You're gonna love this class. I have my Jack Russell in one of her classes right now and after 4 weeks she was a whole different dog." Neato skeeto.

Some other things I did during my afternoon travels? Bought one of Starbucks new fruity frapuccinos. This one was a grande creamy tangerine. Very nice on a horribly hot day. Not quite as nice as the orange flavor that they had several years ago. But nice enough.

I also went to the grocery store and laid in some provisions for my little vacation. Blue corn chips and 5 layer bean dip. Aged cheddar and hot pepper jack cheeses. Salad fixin's. A roma tomato and basil foccacia. Wild mushroom and cheese ravioli. Strawberries. Whole grain nut bread. Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia ice cream. A bottle of Dry Creek Vineyard chardonnay. Peach mango sparkling water. Cracked pepper water crackers.

Then I stopped at the video store for a romantic comedy and a couple of dramas. All I need is a beautiful old woman in my bed and I'll be set. Most likely I'll have to be content with the dog and the cat.

How much work do you think I'll get done?

Woman on the Edge

2006-06-29T21:35:00.000-07:00

I cannot believe that I picked the absolute hottest time of the year to take some vacation time. It has been over 100 degrees every day for a week. I don't know where the temperature is being read but it's not here. The weather sites say that our high today was 93. Nope. It was 102. Last Sunday the staff tells me it was 110. On Monday it was 108. Our thermometers are in the shade.

This was not necessarily poor planning on my part. For one thing, usually August and September are the hottest months. Also, I was planning to attend my uncle's 75th birthday party in Illinois. That is, until I remembered I cannot stand his kids.

The air has been so hot that your skin burns when you walk into the sunlight. Yet it's so humid that clothes stick to your wet skin in hot, messy clumps of cloth. Even your toes sweat.

On Tuesday, just to tease, we got about 3 minutes of rain. Fat drops splashed around the earth and were soaked into nonexistence within nanoseconds. I yearned for cool mountain air. I dreamed of splashing in an ice filled pool.

I came home Tuesday evening to ants crawling all over the kitchen counter. Having nothing else to kill them with, I used flea and tick spray. It seemed to work.

This morning I overslept and didn't even make coffee. I stopped at 7-11 for a medium cup of black mountain blend and a large bottle of Propel fitness water with vitamins. Then I spent the day working like mad to begin my vacation early. I did not want to see the afternoon shift.

The thought of hearing one more complaint or solving one more problem made my head hurt. I put out the licensed nurse schedule for July on my way out last night. This morning, on the 29th of June, there were no less than 5 new requests in my box for July. What goes on in people's heads?

One of my nurses forgot that she had Jerry Seinfeldt tickets. How in the hell do you forget something like that?

Working with this bunch is like feeding a pride of starving lions. And the name of our unique facility mythology is Fifty First Dates. Every day is a new day. It's too darned bad that I can remember yesterday. Were it not for that I would probably be at least 50% less stressed.

I have lists and lists of things to accomplish on this few days off. I keep hearing my sister's voice in my head: "Yep. Make sure that place is clean and ready when I get there." Maybe I could postpone until 2030. She might be too old to make it by then.

I was thinking I might work on my typepad site. But I tend to overestimate my stamina. At this very moment in time, however, all I can think about is snow.

Now I'm Pissed

2006-06-28T07:02:00.000-07:00

I just spent one hour writing a post and Blogger killed everything. The computer flipped out and shut down.

Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn.

If Only

2006-06-27T08:23:00.000-07:00

This morning I took a page from Kelly and blended my Brazil Ipanema Bourbon with Boca Java New Media Maverick's. The New Media Mavericks gives just the right amount of body to ground the Ipanema Bourbon. The chocolately notes are a bonus.

As I was blog surfing this morning, I realized that if I would just untighten my fist a bit, I could buy a new computer and post cool pics like all of the big kids.

Someone asked a question on my Small Space Living message board this morning about articles of clothing that are no longer useful. I save them all. If I were more organized, I wouldn't do that. Of course I couldn't pull out that nifty little outfit at the last minute either.

I strive for uncluttered space. But my mind is so cluttered that walking through it in the morning is like trying to weave my way out of a maze long enough to find the bathroom so that I can shower.

If only I were a different person, my life might be easier. I try to comfort myself with the idea that I probably wouldn't be so much fun.

Trash Talk & Coffee

2006-06-26T08:40:00.000-07:00

I'm drinking the Brazil Ipanema Bourbon again this morning. It's rich but has such wonderfully crisp and fruity notes for summer enjoyment.

The weather is hot! It was 84 degrees outside when I checked the thermometer at 0730. I do not have central air. I do have a swamp cooler in the ceiling of my dining room which helps tremendously. It's also very cheap to run. But I'm thinking about investing in a portable AC.

For your morning amusement:

Barnyardmama has a Fashion Cheat Sheet on her site. This is a must for those of us who wish to be fashionable as well as for those of us who wish to criticize the fashion choices of those we don't like.

Dreams etc is my newest favorite mommy blog. She has one post where she not only uses the word fuck no less than 8 times; she also calls her nasty neighbor Pigeon Cunt. It doesn't get much better than that.

I am a big fan of bad language and potty humor. It leaves me rolling on the floor like a quivering puddle of jello. I grew up with 4 siblings and minimal supervision. Also, my mom laughed at stupid jokes. The dumber the joke, the harder she laughed. When it comes to bad humor, I'm like one of Pavlov's dogs.

For those of you with a more serious bent, I do have a serious topic lined up. But it's Monday morning. I figure most of us could use a little silliness to start the week.

A Perfect Day

2006-06-22T21:55:00.000-07:00

I spoke with my sister last night about our Hawaii trip. We ended up talking about things like The Family Jowels, Mom Arms (those flabby old lady arms that no amount of exercise will correct), and the care of aging teeth. Finally K said "Good grief. We're talking like a couple of old ladies. We've talked about everything but our bowels. Are yours moving?"

My sister is a funny grrl. She is 14 months younger than I and has lived to harass me for as long as I can remember. Our other sister is a kinder, gentler sort of sister.

While we were talking, they were in the midst of one of those wonderful Michigan thunderstorms that I have always loved. Summer thunderstorms are the one thing I miss about Michigan. That and the spectacular summer greenery. She opened the door so that I could hear the rain and I was momentarily jealous.

But today was one of those heartbreakingly beautiful California days. It was quite warm but there was a light breeze blowing. LavenderDE claimed that she could smell the ocean as we headed out for lunch.

On Thursday evenings out here in Redneck Country, our little town has free concerts at the local mall. Tonight was classic rock.

My friend Dixie and I like to meet at the Starbucks that is right next to the concert pit. She has the passion fruit iced tea with lemonade and blackberry. I like the blackberry green tea frapuccino.

Parking was tight and as I walked across the lot, the wind kissed my face reminding me of the Trade Winds that flow in and around the Hawaiian Islands. The air was perfect and the sun was as bright as noon time just before sunset.

We just sat there on the mall with about 500 other folks sipping our drinks, tapping to the music, and reveling in the sweetness of it all. All of the stress, the aggravation, and the turmoil of life and of work simply ceased to exist.

I truly do live in paradise.

When All Else Fails, Steal It

2006-06-21T08:48:00.000-07:00

My get up and go got up and went. That's what the old folks used to say when I was young. I am on my way to an all day Director of Nursing meeting, corporate style.

In the meantime my brain locked at the stress of spending one week trying to fill 4 licensed nurse slots for today when all of them are already working double shifts.

So here are some comments and questions posed around the world wide web that caught my eye during the last week or so:

Why don't children have the fundamental right to a good adoptive home if one exists? A Florida judge says that they don't. Read the entire article.

Did you know that Twisty's comments on fellatio caused a veritable firestorm over at I Blame the Patriarchy? Personally, I don't care who does it. But it is interesting how many folks think that it's just another form of patriotism.

And according to MochaMomma, McDonald's new premium coffee tastes like ass. The one thing she and I agree on this morning is that it's a good BloggersFuel day. I'm drinking New Media Mavericks and it's delicious.

Happy Hump Day.

Coffee For Sale

2006-06-18T13:05:00.000-07:00

Rummaging through my cupboards I find that I have about 15 different kinds of coffee. It looks as though several tiny mice had a caffeine orgy.

No way do I want to drink all of that coffee. It's like eating the crumbs from the bottom of the cheerio box. But at least one half of my genes are pack rat genes.

Some things I can toss with impunity. Other items appear destined to live with me forever. I hate to throw away perfectly good coffee. But for me it has seen its day. Time to move on to newer, richer blends. Fresh beans still shiny with their natural oils.

This got me to thinking about garage sales. Someone would love an eighth or a quarter of a pound of classy coffee for twenty-five cents. I could assuage my guilt about all of those coffee-less workers in China. And I could make some money to boot.

These are some of the things I could send to garage sale heaven:

3 printers; one a 4 in one.

2 hard drives.

1 monitor. Clunky but usable.

More clothes than I could wear in an entire season without wearing the same thing twice. Never mind that some of them have been piling up since 1973. Someone might find use for them.

Books long ago read and never to be touched again.

The ex-housemate's nasty green couch.

Housewares, gadgets, knick knacks, and doo dads so long stuffed away that I do not even recognize them as belonging to me.

Half burned candles.

The gigantic rack of bath salts and bath oils I received as a gift and will never use. I'll bet I could get $10 for that one.

This is just one more reason to love coffee. It is so inspiring.

The Long Goodbye

2006-06-17T15:05:00.000-07:00

I knew that it would be hard to let go. I just didn't realize it would be this difficult. Jaz went to the groomer today. It is the first time I have seen Rika since Maggie died. Rika didn't know. She and I both got pretty weepy as we talked about her.

"You take such good care of Maggie," she said, putting her hand on her heart. "I'm sad too." Rika has been grooming Maggie for about 5 years.

Then I had to stop off at the vet's to pick up Jaz's shot records. R had not yet transferred the records over to my account. Just walking into the office was difficult. I have used this vet for about 12 years for a number of animals. And though each loss was hard, somehow losing Maggie has been the deepest cut.

When I came home I called R to remind her about transferring the records over to me. She was sad too. Yesterday was Jaz's second birthday. "We thought about her all day. We miss her so much. Please give her a kiss for me."

After I hung up, I really started to cry. I lost my sweet Maggie. The Universe gave me a gift. But that gift is someone else's loss. So often life just doesn't seem fair.

Maybe it is these hurts that hone our compassion and keep us honest.

$200 A Plate?

2006-06-16T08:15:00.000-07:00

Dang! I got sort of forced into going to this round table dinner last night for psychiatrists and allied health professionals. A really nice drug rep kept pushing me. When she said $200 a plate I figured that it would at least be a really good free dinner.

Dave and Gary were going too. So why not?

It was a nice evening with wonderful food. I had the salmon. The presentation of the food was impressive. So was the taste. They even had this very cool cheesecake that was round with whipped cream and a raspberry candy on top, a little chocolate cookie thing, and raspberry syrup and chocolate swirled in a fancy pattern on the plate.

But I was still trying to figure out where the $200 price tag came from.

We had a pleasant evening and I learned some new things about clozapine. That's the "miracle" antipsychotic that was supposedly going to make schizophrenics normal. I won't bore you with all of that. It's a good drug but the Movie of the Week didn't exactly tell the whole story.

The $200, it turns out, is the honorarium that will be mailed to me at some time in the future.

That's probably just about what it will cost me to have my carpets cleaned.

Jaz was pissed off. So pissed off that she is still holding a grudge this morning. To add insult to injury, I locked her behind the gate in the kitchen for about 30 minutes because she wouldn't pee on her pee pad.

Now we all know that dogs empty their bladders first thing in the morning. Which means she emptied hers elsewhere before I caught her.

Right now she is sleeping on my right foot while I type.

Well. The carpets needed cleaning anyway.

Is Simply Gay Good Enough?

2006-06-13T21:55:00.000-07:00

Let me see if I can get this straight. (This pun was not intended but laugh if you are so moved. It works here).

HomoMojo has a new look. And it is there that I found a link to a blog entry regarding the Advocate's survey asking us queer folk if gay is OK. Or perhaps we prefer something like LGBT.

Without further ado, I give you the young man over on Proceed At Your Own Risk :

The Advocate has too much time on its hands and is spearheading a campaign to replace "Gay" with LGBT or GLBTQ.

"Mom, Dad, I have something to tell you. I'm LGBT."

"Have you tried one of the new super-antibiotics?"

Personally, I'm content with Gay and Queer. But we could go back to confirmed bachelor and maiden aunt.

Later in the day this same bright fella turned me on to a theory of homosexuality posited by a biologist by the name of Joan Roughgarden. I went to the original article:

From the JUN/JUL 2006 issue of Seed Magazine:
Credit: Catherine Ledner

Joan Roughgarden thinks Charles Darwin made a terrible mistake. Not about natural selection—she's no bible-toting creationist—but about his other great theory of evolution: sexual selection. According to Roughgarden, sexual selection can't explain the homosexuality that's been documented in over 450 different vertebrate species. This means that same-sex sexuality—long disparaged as a quirk of human culture—is a normal, and probably necessary, fact of life. By neglecting all those gay animals, she says, Darwin misunderstood the basic nature of heterosexuality...

Roughgarden, a professor of biology at Stanford University and a MTF TG person, published a book 2 years ago called Evolution's Rainbow in which she outlines and explains this theory.

Although the good professor discusses homosexual behavior as a kind of social glue found in more evolved species, it was this particular bit of animal erotica that rocked my lesbian world:

Japanese macaques, an old world primate, illustrate this principle perfectly. Macaque society revolves around females, who form intricate dominance hierarchies within a given group. Males are transient. To help maintain the necessary social networks, female macaques engage in rampant lesbianism. These friendly copulations, which can last up to four days, form the bedrock of macaque society, preventing unnecessary violence and aggression. Females that sleep together will even defend each other from the unwanted advances of male macaques. In fact, behavioral scientist Paul Vasey has found that females will choose to mate with another female, as opposed to a horny male, 92.5% of the time. While this lesbianism probably decreases reproductive success for macaques in the short term, in the long run it is clearly beneficial for the species, since it fosters social stability. "Same-sex sexuality is just another way of maintaining physical intimacy," Roughgarden says. "It's like grooming, except we have lots of pleasure neurons in our genitals. When animals exhibit homosexual behavior, they are just using their genitals for a socially significant purpose."

Well, that was fun.

As far as theories go however, I like the one that a friend of mine stumbled across many years ago. According to her, there is a biological imperative for lesbianism. Back in the Stone Age, when people dropped like flies, it made sense to have women in the clan with no interest in the rituals of procreation but a great interest in mothering should bio-mom not make it home from the mastadon hunt.

Be that as it may, the Advocate can call me whatever it likes. A lesbian by any other name smells just as sweet. But for some reason, this whole thing brought to mind the image of the one-eyed one-horned flying purple people eater. Except in my song she's called a flying purple pussy eater.

Apropos of Nothing

2006-06-13T20:52:00.000-07:00

No one. And I do mean NO one can give you the evil eye like a very pregnant and very pissed off 6 foot (in spike heels) Latina with her aged and weeping mother in tow. Actually, her mother is about my age but she sure plays her part well.

Not only was I, with the toss of a chesnut mane, deemed too stupid to live; I was also, judging by the alarming and unparalleled rolling of big brown eyes, declared not worthy of notice.

She certainly was not going to translate this sorry ass gringa's English to sully her mother's ears and perhaps bring her again to tears.

Such is my life as someone who sometimes likes to believe that she is in charge.

Breast Cancer Screw You Fest

2006-06-13T08:25:00.000-07:00

So our friend Twisty over at I Blame the Patriarchy has been dealing with breast cancer for awhile now. Being that she is so young, she dished out something like $4,000 to be tested for the BRCA2 gene. Which she has. Which means she has some heavy duty surgery ahead.

But that's not the worst part. Here is Sola's response to Twisty's entry:

Sola
Jun 11th, 2006 at 9:41 am

Here’s one way the patriarchy comes into it: BRCA2 has been patented by Myriad, the company that “found” it. This means lots of things, including:

Myriad owns a little speck in each and every one of your cells. Thanks to our “everything is a product” mindset, if someone can make money from a gene, they can claim to own it and sell rights to it. Never mind that the gene is in your body and is in fact inseparable from you.

Since they “own” the gene, Myriad gets to charge whatever the hell they want to charge for the test that identifies it. This charge doesn’t appear to be based on the actual costs they incur in doing the test. Instead, it seems to be based on what women are willing to pay.

Myriad did a market research in about 1997, when the test was new. They had a contractor call high-risk women, including me, to ask them how much they would be willing to pay for such a test. They wanted to know how desperate we were to find out the truth and how much we would fork over to get the answer. (I told them I wouldn’t pay them one f*ing dime.) They don’t give a shit about whether our insurance will or won’t pay for the test. They just want to know what price they can get from their market.

This means that each and every one of us is being held hostage by this biotech company. Most insurance companies won't pay for the test. It would seem that it is cheaper to treat some of us while we are dying than it is to test all of us who might fall into the risk group. Here's a little something I found over at the link provided by Sola:

Myriad has received patents for two genes, BRCA-1 and BRCA-2, used to perform a cancer screening tests. According to the firm's SEC Form 10-K, "BRCA-1 and BRCA-2 appear to be responsible for approximately 84% of the early onset hereditary breast cancer and approximately 90% of hereditary ovarian cancer." Myriad has licensed the rights to perform these tests to about a dozen laboratories in exchange for very high royalties on each test performed. (The federal government brokered a deal to pay lower royalties when the genes are used by NCI and NIH-sponsored research institutions and investigators.) Myriad is currently trying to enforce patents on the BRCA-1 and BRCA-2 genes in Europe and Canada, which is has led to a lot of controversy in their public health communities because this would raise the price of testing for cancer considerably.

Just a little something to take with your morning coffee.

The Blue Funks

2006-06-12T07:45:00.000-07:00

Haven't posted in a few days, primarily because I had nothing interesting to say. I did a lot of web surfing and blog hopping. Collected lots of interesting snippets. Enjoyed a few laughs and got my blood stirring with some reports of the usual injustices.

But I simply did not have it in me to post. I realized that the Blue Funks had me by the short hairs.

The Blue Funks put you right down into the depths of self pity and self loathing. The old tapes start playing and before you know it you're a snot nosed mess:

Not good enough. Not organized enough. Lazy. Unloveable. Not nice. A failure...

If I could put those tapes to music I'd have a great country song. But I wasn't born that talented so I was forced to find other ways to cope. One of the good things about being my age and having nearly 3 decades on the couch is that I know the Blue Funks won't last forever. My mother used to call stuff like that "regression in the service of the ego."

There's something roiling around there in my empty pea brain but it will be awhile before I figure it out. Life, apparently, is a series of bumps in the road. So I forced myself to do a few constructive activities.

I had my nails done. I had my hair cut. Both way overdue. I shopped for groceries. I finished half of my CEU's to renew my nursing license. I did the dishes. I half heartedly mopped my kitchen floor.

But mostly I played with the dog, read, and watched some movies. I did make a Starbucks run for one of those scrumptious banana mocha frappuccinos. (Oh yeah. You're fat and you're mother dresses you funny).

It never helps that on most Sundays (don't ask me why) my nurses harass me from morning to night. Most of it yesterday was forgiveable. They are so stressed out with the overtime that it's necessary to prop them up emotionally to keep them going.

Here it is, Monday morning. While I'm not exactly prepped and ready to do battle, I do feel more or less human. So. Fortified with Starbucks Papua New Guinea I'm ready to face the workplace.

Wish me luck comadres and compadres. And may all of your Blue Funks be short lived.

When Filipinas Cook

2006-06-07T21:45:00.000-07:00

I'm drinking Starbucks Gold Coast blend this morning because I needed a strong jolt to wake me up. My birthday was great. But I was forced to eat so much food that I had trouble falling asleep. I ended up taking something and didn't wake up until 0830.

So what am I still doing here? Well, I just haven't had a break in several months now and my body is screaming:

"Bitch! Don't you do that to me. Hear?"

So I am moving as fast as I can but that means a break between brushing my teeth and getting in the shower. Then I have to decide if I have the muscle power to wash my hair.

I truly did not have one drop of alcohol to celebrate the day.

The department managers took me to the Olive Garden for lunch where I pigged out on soup, salad, and breadsticks.

Later on, in the early evening, the nurses threw a little surprise party for me with a huge feast that included pansit, menudo, cassava cake, custard, a melon punch, and a 7 layer bean dip. Of course I had to pig out again because I learned, early on in my nursing career that when a Filipina offers you food, you don't refuse.

When I first arrived at my facility 3 years ago, all of my nurses were white except for one black nurse. This is remarkable in southern California. I spent my entire career here being in a minority among large populations of Philipino nurses.

It was a difficult marriage. In my natural state, I tend to be far too aggressive, open, and blunt to suit the tastes of the average Philipino. But as the years passed and as I adapted, I came to find that I had some dear friends within that community. Because when you have won the respect of a Philipino nurse, and if you never cause them to lose face, you will have an ally for life.

Josie is one such nurse. I worked with her when she was a nursing assistant in a home care agency and right away I knew she was special. Like many Filipina nursing assistants, she was a baccalaureate RN in her country. And it took her almost 20 years while raising her family to regain that status here in the United States.

I happened to help her secure her first job as a licensed nurse here in San Diego. And when she passed the RN board last year, I immediately hired her on as my assistant.

Josie is the one who made sure that we had a baby shower for our pregnant nurse. She arranged my surprise party and cooked a huge amount of food for the pot luck. She stayed up until midnight Monday night then arrived at her other job yesterday morning at 7 a.m. They are in the midst of State survey right now.

She had a very bad day. She called me to ask me to wait for her and then ranted into the phone. "I'm so piss off!" she screamed into her cell phone. I couldn't understand the whole story but it seems she felt horribly betrayed by a Filipina supervisor at this other job.

Another thing I have learned about her culture is that if you are in any way a maverick, you can be ostracized by the community at large. And even if you aren't entirely comfortable with the whole of your culture, most of us don't want to be told that we cannot go home anymore.

So here's my friend at one of the lowest points in her career when she realizes that she has been set up by one of her own.

What could I do but stay and eat the food that she so lovingly prepared? On a full stomach I gorged some more. Which is why I was still tossing and turning at 1 a.m.

But it made Josie happy. And that my friends, is a small price to pay.

Monday? Again?

2006-06-05T07:32:00.000-07:00

I am much happier when the week includes a holiday Monday. But I have rectified that by planning to take this coming Friday off. Finally, a little extra break after the Survey Madness. I teach the last classes today.

This morning I am trying Brazil Ipanema Bourbon from Starbucks. I can almost hear the song. It's a well balanced, medium body coffee with a pleasing flavor for early morning. Taking a cue from my Late Night Log In coffee experience, I added more beans than usual and the result was as I had hoped.

My jaded taste buds were able to discern the nuttiness that was promised.

Jaz and I went to visit the boy and his mom. It was a joyous reunion and I think they were relieved to see that she is well, happy, and bonding with me. But she sure knew where she was going. She almost leapt out of the car window when we pulled into the parking lot.

It's definitely an open adoption. I'll try to remember to take my camera the next time. I'd love to have a picture of Jaz and her buddy.

Must Have Been an Off Day

2006-06-04T11:52:00.000-07:00

I tried the BloggersFuel Late Night Log In again this morning. Boca Java and Bruce have been so nice to me that I decided this coffee deserved a second chance. And this time, I used about 50% more beans than I did the last time.

What a difference a bean makes. Properly made, it is bold, rich, and smooth, just as advertised. This South American and Island blend was very satisfying. As an added bonus, it is not at all acidic. Thanks Bruce! I thoroughly enjoyed this morning's coffee experience.

Bits & Pieces

2006-06-04T11:12:00.000-07:00

Twisty has this to say about the new dyke on the block, Batwoman:

But no. Batwoman is clearly just one of those straight chicks who gets drunk at parties and wants to make out with the real dykes. Which only enhances her whack-off appeal, I suppose, since cultivating an addiction to looking at pictures of hot straight women pretending to get it on is a man-law. Pardon my French.

Lorraine, over at Me and the Cat, posted some great bumper stickers. I liberated my favorites:

DEMOCRATS ARE SEXY ----WHOEVER HEARD OF A GOOD PIECE OF ELEPHANT?

BUSH SPENT YOUR SOCIAL SECURITY ON HIS WAR

GOD BLESS EVERYONE (No exceptions)

IF YOU SUPPORT BUSH'S WAR WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE? -- Enlist!!

IS IT 2008 YET?

ANNOY A CONSERVATIVE----- THINK FOR YOURSELF

STEM CELL RESEARCH IS PRO-LIFE

Over on Matrifocus there is a profoundly moving and thought provoking piece by Carolyn Gage called Marilyn Monroe's Shoes. If you care about women, about children, or about the issues of sexual abuse, read this article.

And lastly, from the Progressive, if you think that your government is not trying to tie you up like a pretzel, think about the librarian who received a National Security Letter from the FBI.

These letters are an extraordinarily powerful tool in the hands of the FBI. Basically, they amount to subpoenas the Justice Department issues by itself, without having to go to a judge for approval. When they were first authorized in the 1970s, the FBI was required to have “ ‘specific and articulable’ reasons to believe the records it gathered in secret belonged to a terrorist or spy,” Barton Gellman reported for The Washington Post on November 6, 2005. But thanks to the Patriot Act, the FBI can slap these letters not only on terrorist suspects but on anyone who is “relevant” to a national security investigation, even those “who are not alleged to be terrorists or spies...

Federal Marriage Amendment: Vote No!

2006-06-04T08:45:00.000-07:00

Thanks to Tookie for this heads up. Your Senators will be voting on the Federal Marriage Amendment on Tuesday.

Just say NO! You can have postcards sent to your Senators via the Human Rights Campaign website.

You can also call (202) 224 - 3121 and ask to leave a message on your Senator's voice mail.

Spread the word. This is about much more than gay rights. It's about the rights of all of us as citizens to have a say in how, when, and why the Constitution shall be amended.

The FMA threatens to write discrimination into the Constitution for the first time in over 200 years. We as citizens ought not to stand for this.

Tootin' My Own Horn

2006-06-03T12:19:00.000-07:00

Like a Rock

2006-06-02T07:32:00.000-07:00

No. Not that kind of rock. More like the kind of rock that someone ties around your neck before they drop you to the bottom of the ocean. Greymatters over at Lobal Warming alerted me to the sad tale of the VP's daughter.

Mary Cheney's book has so far failed abysmally. Her publisher must be pooping bricks. For a one million dollar advance, less than 4,100 sold as of May 25.

Well, didn't they read it before they published it? Poor Mary only goes to prove that the words REPUBLICAN and DYKE do not really belong in the same sentence.

I'll send you to Pam's House Blend. She comments so much more smartly than I could. What is it about lesbians named Pam?

O.K.

2006-06-01T21:45:00.000-07:00

Well. This is disheartening.

More This & That

2006-06-01T20:38:00.000-07:00

From Adrenaline's Shadow:

It's hotter than two rats fucking in a wool sock.

And it's probably going to get hotter. This promises to be a miserable summer heat wise. I was hoping for something more like Mutiny on the Bounty; storms and high seas. But I don't think it will happen in my life time.

The last 2 months of my life have sucked. By Monday I was having my first panic attack in over 20 years. And by Wednesday, I had convinced myself that I was dying of colon cancer.

Then I realized that there was an easy fix. Don't work more than 8 hours per day. Why do I work? My dog. My health insurance. My 401k. Everything else is moot.

This is what I heard from one of my nurses yesterday as she came bawling down the hall. "I'm just exhausted from my 2 days off."

And this is my problem because.....?

Today, the same nurse got snippy with me, insinuating that she was too busy to listen to what I had to say. I'm going to yank her by the short hairs so hard when I have the chance to counsel her she'll be singing coloratura.

I talked to Jaz' mom tonight. She didn't expect to miss her so much. I'm going to take her over to their house on Saturday so they can visit and see that she's doing OK.

The only other thing I need to do is figure out how to break it to my boss that I am taking another long weekend very soon. And I won't be taking calls. Even though I have vacation in July.

Eat my dust you little pissants.

Rock the Vote? Block the Vote!

2006-05-31T07:45:00.000-07:00

This seems to be the new mantra of the Good Ol' Boy Network in Republican Land. From Truthout, a New York Times editorial :

[Florida] imposes fines of $250 for every voter registration form that a group files more than 10 days after it is collected, and $5,000 for every form that is not submitted - even if it is because of events beyond anyone's control, like a hurricane.

Go Jeb! Put that League of Women Voters out of business.

In Washington, a new law prevents people from voting if the secretary of state fails to match the information on their registration form with government databases.

Senator Mitch McConnell, Republican of Kentucky, introduced an amendment to require all voters to present a federally mandated photo ID. Even people who have been voting for years would need to get a new ID to vote in 2008.

Found at Salon.com and filed by me under Well, duuuuuuuuuuh!

Enron changed nothingIn the breeding grounds of executive crime, greed still rules. The only lesson corporate America has learned is how to blame everybody else.
By Gary Weiss

...Alas, the root causes of Enron are still with us, and getting worse. I am pained to report that in the breeding grounds of corporate crime, the teeming Gold Coast mansions and sweaty polo clubs, little has changed in the executive attitudes that brought us Enron...

Sarbanes-Oxley, or "Sarbox," as it is known, was enacted in July 2002, when the post-Enron hysteria was at its highest...

The law set up something called the Public Company Accounting Oversight Board, whose purpose is to keep watch over the corporate auditors who failed so miserably to detect the book cooking at Enron...

What Sarbox has never done, and never could do, is change corporate behavior, anymore than you can stop a car thief by taping a Do Not Steal sign to the dashboard. Remember that CEOs who are going to pull off a mega-scam like Enron, or even a routine stock swindle or accounting trick, are not going to be deterred by a law book or someone with a stinkin' badge. They have a more pragmatic view of corporate responsibility -- they feel they don't have any.

And under Troubles in the Terrorist Olympics:

The Rant
New CIA director Hayden plans massive expansion of spying on Americans
By DOUG THOMPSON
From Capitol Hill Blue
May 31, 2006, 08:19

Now that he is officially sworn in as the new head of the Central Intelligence Agency, Gen. Michael Hayden plans to build a vast domestic spying network that will pry into the lives of most Americans around the clock.

President George W. Bush told Hayden to "take whatever steps necessary" to monitor Americans 24/7 by listening in on their phone calls, bugging their homes and offices, probing their private lives, snooping into their financial records and watching their travel habits.

Can I prove this in a court of law? No. Do I know it is happening? Yes, without a doubt. Enough sources within the CIA, FBI, NSA and Pentagon have come forward in recent days to warn about Hayden's plans for an expanded, consolidated spy network aimed at Americans, not terrorists, and violating numerous laws that prohibit such activities against citizens of this country...

From The Progressive come tales of the New McCarthyism:

My name is Mohamad. That doesn’t mean I’m a terrorist”
By Matthew RothschildMay 27, 2006

Mohamad Pharoan is a waiter at the Hyatt Regency at the Inner Harbor in Baltimore. He’d worked there seven years when, on December 5, 2003, President Bush came to the hotel for a reelection fundraiser.

Pharoan, 58 at the time, was supposed to be serving tables at the banquet, but he wasn’t allowed to. Because his name is Mohamad.

This dude, who was born in Syria, came to the US in 1992, and became a citizen in 1996, was escorted by the secret service to his locker, kept under watch while he changed his clothes, and escorted out of the building.

He decided to consult with his brother, Dr. Bash Pharoan, who is president of the Baltimore chapter of the American-Arab Anti-Discrimination Committee.

They went to the press.

On December 10, four members of the House of Representatives—John Conyers, John Dingell, John Lewis, and Betty McCollum—circulated a letter to their colleagues.

The letter started by spoofing the MasterCard commercial:”Price of Admission to Bush fundraiser in Baltimore: $2,000.

“Money Raised at Bush fundraiser in Baltimore: $1,000,000.

“Cost to an American citizen and seven-year hotel employee scheduled to work at the Bush fundraiser but sent home because his name was ‘Mohamad’: Humiliation, Discrimination, and Prejudice.”

Of course, when they apologized, the Secret Service said that his exclusion was in no way related to his ethnic and religious background.”

Th- th- th- that's all folks!

The American Way

2006-05-30T07:48:00.000-07:00

Boca Java has sent over 800,000 cups of coffee to our troops. Their goal is one million. You can send 8 ounces of their super duper coffee to the men and women in our military. For $4.00. That's a small price to pay for sending them a tasty piece of home.

Personally, I want them to have the best when they're working for my safety and freedom.

Holiday Fun

2006-05-29T13:48:00.000-07:00

Keeping in mind that Memorial Day is a solemn occasion, I trolled the web to see how others were observing the day. It seems that my mind must be permanently in the gutter as all those whom I admire seem to be doing The Nasty in one form or another.

This weekend:

Cheryl is observing National Masturbation Month. It seems that Saturday someone was having a Masturbate-a-thon. Sounds like fun. Sorry I missed it.

Barnyardmama is most likely making googly eyes and other things with her husband. At least I hope she is. He's been elsewhere for awhile.

Pat Kirby is tripping on horses. We all know that this is the adolescent grrl's favorite pre-sex experience.

And Jaz, having spent her first 2 years on the planet Cat-less, has suddenly discovered the joys of chasing the cat around the house full tilt boogie and barking like a mad dog. It's got to be the doggie equivalent of a really good orgasm.

I'm certainly not getting any this weekend. In fact, I just blew my most recent chance by spiraling into a depression after Maggie died. But it does remind me of a story.

A couple of years ago, I was getting my annual pap smear from a Nurse Practitioner, another NursePam oddly enough. I reminded her that she hurt me on our previous encounter and to please use a smaller speculum this time. She asked me how long since I had had sex and I said "You mean with a man? Years."

Her response was "Have you ever done that?"

Not that it was any of her damned business. "Yes," I snapped, "I have."

Here's what I wanted to say to her:

"Yes you dried up old school marm pussy. You would drop dead of a coronary if I told you how many men I fucked back in the day. And what the hell kind of question is that anyway?"

Actually, what I did say was something like maybe I should go find a guy with a big one; I could prep myself before my next visit with her.

"Just make sure," she said, "that it's not too big. You could hurt yourself."

So much for a woman married 40 years giving sex advice to a 50 something single lesbian. How the hell would she know what might go up there? Unless, of course, she's been up to something I don't know about.

Just In Case You Missed It

2006-05-29T10:55:00.000-07:00

Certain elements in the United States Senate are determined to amend your Constitution without your knowledge or consent. If you happen to be a conservative who stumbled across this site, just remember, once the precedent has been set, you too could lose all that you hold dear.

If you don't know why this is not dangerous, then perhaps we deserve to lose our Constitutional rights. It's your job as a citizen to understand how your government works and why we want to be very careful about amending the Constitution.

From the Daily Kos:

In response to the Senate Judiciary Committee's kerfuffle regarding the proposed constitutional amendment banning gay marriage (blogged below today), Sen. Russ Feingold has issued the following statement:

Objecting to the Judiciary Committee's Handling of the Constitutional Amendment on Marriage

Today's markup of the constitutional amendment concerning marriage, in a small room off the Senate floor with only a handful of people other than Senators and their staffs present, was an affront to the Constitution...

I am deeply disappointed that the Chairman of the Judiciary Committee went forward with the markup over my objection. Unfortunately, the Majority Leader has set a politically motivated schedule for floor consideration of this measure that the Chairman felt compelled to follow, even though he says he opposes the amendment.

Constitutional amendments deserve the most careful and deliberate consideration of any matter that comes before the Senate. In addition to hearings and a subcommittee markup, such a measure should be considered by the Judiciary Committee in the light of day, open to the press and the public, with cameras present so that the whole country can see what is done... (emphasis mine)

George Bush and his ilk continue to empower these power hungry men who believe it is their God given right to make decisions for the rest of us. Whichever side you are on, you ought to be outraged that this is happening in your government.

The Dog Trainer From Hell

2006-05-28T10:54:00.000-07:00

Jaz and I arrived early yesterday for the 2:30 basic training class, as instructed. There were about 5 dogs. One was a beautiful little Spaniel puppy about 4 months old. Another was a fairly large mixed breed about 10 months old. He was nervous and a little snappy but his owner had him under good control.

The next was a nervous Pit puppy but again, the owner had him fairly well controlled. Then there was the beagle. He was a year old and completely out of control. His owner could barely keep him leashed. And he barked and bayed at all of the other dogs continuously. The trainer had to relegate him around the corner of the building and give his owner some tips on working to keep him from barking. This worked moderately well.

This woman said she had 32 years experience as an animal trainer including a fair amount of experience with the zoo. It took about 10 minutes for her to get the beagle quiet enough for us to hear what she was saying. After about another 10 minutes, she directed us off of the blacktop and onto the concrete because it was fairly warm outside.

As we were walking, Jaz, unbeknownst to me, put her forepaw right under my foot and I came down on it with all 160 pounds of my body weight. She screeched and lifted her paw up and I scooped her up to inspect the paw. At which point the trainer yelled at me. "Don't coddle them when they're hurt. You're training her to..."

I didn't really hear what else she said except that she went into some story about her ex husband and her Rottweiler and how the Rott ended up liking her and not her ex husband. The tears were flowing and I couldn't seem to stop them. I must have stood there for 5 minutes, my back turned, still weeping silently while she began to talk about something else. I knew I heard the words but I wasn't hearing what she was saying.

It struck me that I had done nothing to merit being talked to like that and that, 32 years experience or not, she wasn't an overly nice person. She either did not realize I was upset (hard to believe as I had my back turned to her) or she didn't care.

Finally, I walked back into the store to ask for a refund. The 2 young clerks up by the register were upset when they saw I had been crying. The young man said "We've had a lot of complaints about her. They're trying to get rid of her and get another trainer in here." They had me fill out a complaint form and I left.

About 4 hours later my phone rang. I let my answering machine pick it up. It was the trainer. She had some long story about how she was sorry that she hurt my feelings. She was only trying to help my dog. And that the barking beagle was stressing her out. Which of course led me to say to the answering machine "Then why the hell didn't you dismiss them and recommend a private training session to begin with?

What about the needs of the other 5 dogs and their owners? I didn't dare pick up the phone because I would not have felt good about saying what I really wanted to say to her.

I called the PetCo in La Mesa to find out when they were having their next basic training class and to make sure that this woman is not one of their trainers. Today I'll call the one in El Cajon to see if they have one that starts sooner. When I took Maggie to basic training, the trainer was wonderful. She never raised her voice and she dealt much differently with the problem dog. She never separated him from the rest of the group. She just used him as a teaching tool for the rest of the class.

The only thing I know is that I have taken enough shit off of other people that by now I ought to have reached my lifetime quota. That and the fact that things often don't work out as one expects.

This morning I am drinking Starbucks new Black Apron Exclusive. Kopi Kampung. It's a Sulawesi coffee; a rather mild blend but with full, rich flavors and a bit of a spicy quality.

My agenda for the day? Stop at Babies R Us for a shower gift. Go to work to finish the nursing schedule. See if I can get Jaz into the groomer today or tomorrow. Watch a bad movie. Ruminate on the state of my life and why I still work for a person who makes me feel so bad about myself. Perhaps move a couple more boxes to my storage shed.