Hold the Cell Phones

Ummmm…so that lady who had octuplets on Monday. Yeah, that one. Turns out that she has six other kiddos…ALL UNDER THE AGE OF SEVEN.

I’m going to write that one more time because I’m still having trouble grasping it. A woman gave birth to eight babies with six other children at home. She has fourteen kids under the age of seven. Alright, writing it again didn’t help. I seriously cannot fathom fourteen kids under the age of seven all living in one house.

Real quick, let me just make it clear that I am not judging here. I believe it’s a woman’s right to have or not have children, no matter how many children she wants. I’m sure she’s going to get terri-schiavo-fied in the media with a bunch of talking heads claiming outrage in the name of higher ratings.

Personally, I’m…well, I guess I’m speechless. I’ve spent the past three days couped up inside my house with only TWO kids because of the ice storm. And let me tell ya, I’m about one more snack and bottle-making moment away from popping a xanax. Some women, many women, have a lot more patience for this mom gig than I do. Here’s to hoping this mother of fourteen is one of them.

That Ain’t No Superbowl Score

59-0.

That was the Illinois senate vote for Blagovejich’s impeachment trial. I imagine the FBI tapes that alleged his selling of the senate seat contained conversations like:

Blago: “If you want this Senate seat you will have to pay me lots of money.”

Would-Be-Senator: “What?”

Blago: “Money. I want you to pay me lots of money for the Senate seat. This is not a joke.”

Would-Be-Senator: “Okay…”

Blago: “Do you understand what I am telling you? You must pay me if you want to be the Senator. Please repeat this back to me so that I know that you fully understand.”

Here’s the column I wrote on my latest political fascination, Ex-Governor Rod. Blagojevich:

“How Much Does a Senator Seat Cost?”

Excerpt:

Whether you are innocent or not, it doesn’t matter much once you have been burned by the flames of fame. After Diane Sawyer and Barbara Walters ask for interviews, do you really want to go back to the governor’s mansion to take phone calls from lowly state-level politicians?

So the question becomes, if not governor, then what?

I see reality show host or judge somewhere in his future. The entire scandal could be turned into a reality show, Senate seat and all. It would be called American Senator, “Watch as contestants pay-to-play for a seat in the Senate.”

Blagovejich could be the host and the judges would include everyone from Tucker Carlson to Sarah Palin. Every now and again, they could get a guest judge like Jon Bon Jovi or Bono. That would be a reality show I could watch (of course, I would have to DVR it if the show time conflicted with any of the Real Housewives series).

Bad Ideas

While it may seem like a fun thing to do on a snow day, baking sheets of sugar cookies topped with cream cheese icing is a really, really bad idea. It is an especially bad idea if there is any chance you will be snowed in the next day. There is nothing more appealing to one stuck in their house as a tray of yummy cookies.

This ice storm is costing me several hundred calories.

What Day Is It?

I’m in the beginning stages of agoraphobia. Me and Kim Basinger are going to start a club but there will be no meetings because members can’t leave their living rooms.

We are actually running a bit of a shelter house. Our power came back on yesterday around 6:00 (thank you thank you thank you Duke Energy). Last night, our overnight guest included my grandmother and my neighbor, who oddly enough, doesn’t have power yet even though she is directly across the street from me.

As of today, I have not left my house in over 48 hours. It’s weather like this that makes me think Alaska is where I will go when I die if I don’t keep it on the straight and narrow. As aesthetically pleasing to the eye snow and ice may appear, it’s freaking miserable if you have to do anything in it for any prolonged period of time. I prefer the gorgeous green of a freshly cut lawn, flowers in bloom and all the other stuff that comes with 70 degree+ weather.

As of now, I have no plans to leave my house. Being that my office is without Internet and no parking spaces, my work productivity will be considerably higher nestled in at my home office. That means that I have no reason to leave today or tomorrow. By the time this ice storm thaws, I’m going to have the full-blown Ted Kaczynski look: same hooded sweatshirt that I’ve worn for days on end, unkempt hair gray roots and all, sallow skin with faint shades of grey to match my roots. The only thing missing will be my 35,000 word manifesto.

Thinking of 35,000 words…weather like this is perfect to sit with a cup of coffee and a good book. One you may be reading or writing. I’m getting back to writing mine right (write?) now.

Circumstances for Pomp

A ceremony worth celebrating

By AMY GESENHUES
Local Columnist

My daughter turned 5 this week. We had a series of parties for her.

The first scheduled celebration was at her school. No presents, just a happy birthday song after lunch and cupcakes we baked with pink icing and sprinkles. Then there was the private family affair that included me, her dad, her little brother and her aunt and uncle. We took her out to eat at the restaurant of her choice and she got to open gifts.

The big finale celebration was an afternoon with four of her best friends at a local museum followed by pizza and birthday cake at CiCi’s.

I explained to her that 5 was a big birthday, “Five year olds get to go to school and they learn how to read. And they sleep in their own beds all through the night every night.”

She was excited about the school thing, but looked a little skeptical with the sleeping in her own bed thing. It was a milestone birthday and cause for celebration and ceremony.

Ceremonies are important. They are the reason we wear robes and flat hats when we graduate and why we spend more on our weddings than on our automobiles. Whether we are turning 5 or 50, ceremonies are meant to mark occasions and our psyches. They are the metaphorical portals that represent momentous entrances and exits in our lives. When we fail to create a ceremony around important events, we lose sight of their significance.

I know someone who is not happy about the amount of money and effort being put toward this week’s presidential inauguration. The argument is that we should not splurge on such an event when our nation’s economy is tanking.

Of course, a large majority of the inauguration costs are funded by donations. There is not a lot being paid by our tax dollars. The estimates of more than $45 million being spent on the inauguration are still staggering regardless of where the money is coming from.

Here’s my question: Has there ever been a more significant occasion to mark in our nation’s presidential election history than this year’s inauguration? Maybe our very first presidential inauguration; but since then, all other historic presidential events have happened proceeding the inaugurations, not because of it.

Read rest of article.

Celebrate Good Times

(I’m humming Kool and the Gang today.)

What a day, what a day. I could feel the excitement 600 miles away in DC. My colleagues and I gathered in our TV room at the office to watch the most sacred of government affairs yesterday.

At first I feared that I had made a mistake. Should I have stayed home to take in every moment of this affair? Would the big yellow lab who belongs to one of my office mates settle down enough so that I wouldn’t miss one syllable of President Obama’s speech? Would our office phone stop ringing long enough that we could all take in the event without having to answer incoming calls?

I mean, really, who would call about business when our 44th President was about to put his hand on the same bible Abraham Lincoln put his hand on almost 150 years ago?

Fortunately, the dog settled down as did the phones. We watched past presidents and first ladies being ushered to their seats. Joe Biden was swore into his Vice President office.

President Barrack Hussein Obama took his place on the stage and began to repeat the Presidential oath…and then the phone rang. “Really?!” I said it out loud, annoyed that anyone would not take the time to watch was happening. I jumped out of my seat and picked up the Nortel, six-line phone secured on our office lounge wall. Who would possibly be calling us right at this moment. The one moment I’ve been waiting for over two months to see?

It was my husband.

He does this all the time–talks to me just when someone on TV is about to say something I want to hear. In the mornings when Morning Joe and Mika are interviewing Tom Brokaw, in the evenings when one of the Real Housewives is about to get even more mean than usual, his timing for talking over important on air declarations is impeccable.

And here we were, watching something I’d been waiting days to hear. I’ve written articles about and posts galore. We weren’t even in the same room. We weren’t even in the same zip code…and yet, there he was calling to talk to me.

No Words

Our President said them all.

It’s a Beautiful Morning

(I’m humming the Rascal’s song while I type this.)

And even thought it’s not morning yet, by the time you read this it will most likely be Tuesday, January 20. The start of something big. I get goosebumps just thinking about it.

I’m going to spend my day in blessed gratitude. I am inspired by President Obama’s spirit, energy, and intellect. I am awed at what he has accomplished. I am overjoyed that he is my President. I am looking forward to the next eight years.

I’ve DVR’ed all my favorite news shows for tomorrow: Rachel Maddow, Jon Stewart, Joe Scarborough. I’m going to wake up singing and go to bed dreaming of all the great things to come. There’s a small quiet nagging in the back of my head telling me I’m getting too worked up–the voice sounds just like the critic I always hear telling me my writing sucks. I’m not going to listen to him.

I like the feeling of being worked up.

(how about the two posts  in one day? i may not be blogging daily, but sometimes i’m blogging all day long…)

Back on the Grid

So I went two whole days without blogging…and I’m still alive. It felt a little scary at first on Saturday night, but by last night it felt more liberating than scary.

Of course, now I need to get back on the horse so an entire week doesn’t go by before I write again. It’s going to be like exercise, the first extended break I take will become my new habit.

Besides, I have a topic I can discuss: sibling communication styles.

Both my youngest siblings are taking classes at IUS. My brother is 21 and my sister is 20. They both found out last week that they are enrolled in the same class: interpersonal communications.

Wonder how that class is going to work?!

First, upon seeing that two of his students had the same last name, the professor asked if they were married. Funny, right?

Wait until they complete (they meaning my brother) the partner assignment where they record, transcribe and then deconstruct one of their conversations.

How exactly do you deconstruct a series of one-syllable laughs, sighs, and eye-rolling grunts with the occasional insult mixed in? I can’t wait to see what conversation topic they choose to use.

Many years ago when they were both in high school and had just received their first cell phones, my brother had accidentally called me and left a 5 minute voicemail message, not knowing he was leaving a message. The message was a conversation he was having with my sister in the car while they were on their way home from school. It was about grades, specifically about how one of my sister’s grades was going to be worse than she had expected.

The best thing about eavesdropping on their conversation was being able to hear them talk to each other when they though nobody else was listening.  There was concern and compassion while my brother tried to convince my sister that it wouldn’t be as bad as she thought.

They are only fifteen months apart and have always been close both in age and spirit. In front of people, their conversations tend to be goofy bickering or out-right arguments…learned communication patterns left over from when they were vying for attention. But when it’s just the two of them without anyone else listening, the conversation is more endearing and heartfelt.

What He Really Meant to Say…

So apparently the last words the pilot said yesterday before he heroically landed the American Airlines plane in the Hudson River was, “…brace yourself for impact.”

Which to me sounds a lot like, “…get ready, this may be the last breath you take.”

The entire event has me tramautized. I can’t stop thinking about it and it’s not even the worst plane crash ever. In fact, you could considered it one of the best plane crashes being that everyone survived. Was it even a crash since, technically, he landed the plane? Right?

I kept watching the news stories yesterday, searching for survivors who were already talking about it. Then last night I dreamed about it. In the dream I was on a bridge looking out at the plane debris floating in the river. There was a huge crane that was picking up the plane debris and flinging it into the Atlantic Ocean. I had a purse on the bridge and was afraid it was going to fall in. Then I was in my uncles house making cookies, but that’s a dream for you.

I had the same reaction when that bridge collapsed over a year ago in Minneapolis.