Whee! Watch the economy slide! But do it with your friends.

Ah, the economic weirdness continues full-tilt, and everything just seems a tad...expensive, as we see friends get laid-off for no good reason.  We've been quite lucky, I realize, since (no whammies) software/IT seems to be doing just fine so far.  

But life continues in the world of make your own fun, and it's not so bad.  Playing board games with friends is much cheaper than going out drinking, and is quite fun.  Renting a DVD (or even better, getting one from the library) and watching it with friends is a zillion times cheaper than buying movie tickets.  And we cut off the cable two months ago ($79) and haven't much missed it (hooray for Daily Show on-line).  

There are great cookbooks at Goodwill on Grand Avenue (Joy of Cooking for $3) which is cheaper than cooking classes at Sur La Table ($75 per person per two hour class, holy crap, when did I ever think that was OK).   Portland is full of free or cheap live music.   Libraries are great for the latest books--and there's always the good used books at Powell's.  If you volunteer at Schoolhouse Supplies once a month, you get to help local teachers and get free random books too!  Playing poker at the M-in tournaments is pretty cheap ($5 buy-in) and an evening's worth of fun and drama (if you can control your urge to re-buy, or, in my case, my desire to go all-in on a pair of kings.  Darn that dude's pocket aces.)  The Portland Spelling Bee is every Monday night, and if you can spell, you might just get free Mississippi Pizza and drinks.  

Welcome to the new economy...where friends mean more, and 401Ks are worth less.   

Obama wins Florida! And Virginia! And North Carolina!

And the whole country!!  And there was great rejoicing.  

My father called, all choked up, and said, "I am just so proud of my country."  'Nuff said.

On a less happy note, our fabulous friend Molly lost her job, when the credit crunch took out another magazine.  Rackin' frackin' greedy Wall Street bozos, I'd like to break a bottle of Cristal over their coiffed, highlighted, and empty heads.  

So if you need the best web and print editor, publications manager, and all-around digital image goddess to come work in your office, Molly Newman is the bomb.  Hire her now, but email her first at redmolly@gmail.com.  

Gators beat Georgia!

CLANG!  Ah, the sound of a missed Georgia field goal (one of many) clanging off the left upright and bouncing back in their faces.  Yay!  I love November.  Gators 49-Georgia 10.  

And the lazy Georgia fans left early, missing their only touchdown, scored against our second string.  

Plus Texas Tech beat the daylights out of the #1 Texas Longhorns.  Gotta love the shocked look on the Longhorns' faces.  

Gators #4 in the AP Poll, #5 in BCS.  We'll see Alabama for the SEC Championship (if we beat Vandy first).  

Speed-Writing Ghost Story Contest

My friend Molly and I went to the Independent Publishing Resource Center (IPRC) for a Halloween ghost story speed writing contest.  15 minutes, no time to edit, pens to paper, the moderator drew genres out of a hat.  First Genre Selected:  Personal Ad.  Hee hee.  Try to make a personal ad a scary ghost story, 15 minutes or less.    Second genre selected: Confessional. Alas, Molly's choices of "limerick" and "footnote" were not picked out of the hat--or my choices "obituary" and "want ad" either.  

So, after a bit of scary music, we were off and running.  Molly and I mutually vowed to post our stories on-line, so here's mine.  See Molly's (really worth it) at redmolly.typepad.com.  

(Personal ads)

SWF seeks man with 2 silver dollars, suitable for placing on eyes of the dead.  Must be comfortable with small dark places.  No mold allergies please.  Reply by midnight.  

Angry spirit seeks priest for light fondling and possible exorcism. Long term relationship not desired.  

Gravedigger seeks woman in black. Cold hands a plus.  Fresh flowers in a wreath wait for you!

(Confessional--I envisioned this like a radio play, creaking rocking chair and all.  Remember, 15 minutes, no editing at all!)

Shut-in

I still see her hands, you know.  No matter how many hours, how many years, I sit and rock on this porch, I still see them, just reaching up out of the ground, cold and white and small.  

My foot hasn't touched ground in 23 year, and that's no accident, no sir.  'Cause those cold, white hands, you can't trust them...one step off this porch onto that rich black earth and they could grab you and pull you right down, down under the ground.  

It wasn't so often back then, but now, now I'm old, it's every night I have that dream.  Just letting it happen , taking off my worn out shoes and going barefoot out there.  Feeling those white hands grab my ankles and pull me down, the cold earth at my knees, my waist, my arms, my neck, and then soil tumbling down my throat, closing my tired eyes.  Cold earth and tiny white hands pulling me down.  

(Standing, rocking chair stops) Every night, just about this time, I think about doing it.  Taking that one step onto that ground.

Turn around for a minute, sonny.  Tonight Granny's going for a little walk.

(Sound of screaming, muffled by earth)

__________________________

I tied for third place (yay!) and Molly came in second (yay!), so we were quite pleased with ourselves.  The other writers were great too.  :)  

Suzy Q  

 

Godless heathens?

Oh, there's just no bottom for morally retarded Republican campaigners these days. Courtesy of Politico.com:

http://www.politico.com/blogs/scorecard/1008/Dole_still_keeping_the_faith.html
________________________________
Sen. Elizabeth Dole’s latest advertisement suggests her Democratic opponent, Kay Hagan, is a godless heathen.

“A leader of the Godless Americans PAC recently held a secret fundraiser for Kay Hagan,” the 30-second spot says, showing footage of the group’s members talking about their atheist beliefs on cable news.

“Godless Americans and Kay Hagan. She hid from cameras. Took godless money,” the ad concludes. “What did Kay Hagan promise in return?”

At the very end of the ad, a voice sounding like Hagan's says: "There is no God."

The ad is airing across North Carolina.

The ad bases the charge on Hagan’s attendance at a netroots fundraiser on her behalf that was hosted by two advisers of the Godless Americans’ political action committee. According to its website, the group advocates for atheists' rights.

Hagan is holding a press conference with her pastor and family this afternoon to rebut the charges. Hagan is an member (and elder) at the First Presbyterian Church in Greensboro.
________________________

Yup, they're willing to lie, cheat and distort, and say that this church elder who teaches at her church's Sunday School is godless...and even worse, they're willing to treat Americans who are atheists like second-class citizens, who have no right to participate in the political process.

I've never had anything against Liddy Dole, but anyone who approved this ad deserves to lose this race. Can we all rally behind Kay Hagan and get the votes out on this one?

I arm-wrestled a bee!

I arm-wrestled a bee (and lost).  OK, actually a very nice editor for Imbibe Magazine, who was dressed as a bee, for the first prize in last night's Portland Spelling Bee.   She and I couldn't successfully spell the Round Six words, so we were forced to settle it with (non) brute strength in front of a cheering crowd.  True story.  

Pictures to come soon--as soon as Jim emails them to me.  Hooray for Hannah the Bee...she was victorious.  Buzz.  :)

Victorian bondage gear?

OK, now that you're paying attention...my doctor says I have an unstable ankle.  My ankle is deeply insulted.  He gave me a black lace up brace with double cross over straps.  If that sounds sexy, be assured that it's really not.  

$150,000 on clothes from Joe Six-Pack?

Yup, while the stock market tanks and our economy unravels, Palin was doing her part by spending $150,000 from the Republican National Committee to improve the economy at Saks. All that $ to dress her and her family in the latest and greatest clothes and makeup, including getting her 7 year old daughter Piper a Louis Vuitton bag.

Though you can see their point--check out the last photo but one in the slideshow, to see how she dressed before.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2008/10/22/palin-clothes-spending-ha_n_136740.html

And here I thought Joe Six-Pack shopped at Target. Silly old me.

Consumer vs. Citizen

OK, I've had enough of being referred to as just a consumer. When did "American consumer" become synonymous with "American citizen"? Listen to CNN or Fox, and you will hear the word consumer at a ratio of about 30 to 1 to the word citizen. Enough! We are not locusts, measured entirely by our ability to strip the fields (and malls, and car dealerships, and jewelry shops) clean. The extent to which the word "consumer" has replaced the word "citizen" (or even the word "American") is a symbol of how corporate marketing, greed and easy credit have overwhelmed the classic idea of citizenship with a tidal wave of shopping. I want to take back the word citizen--you know, someone with duties, responsibilities and rights as a proud American--and not just the right to slap down my platinum card to buy some piece of junk. Americans are producers, and family members, and voters, and church (and temple) goers, and thinkers, and engineers. Let's ditch the "consumer" label, once and for all.

Harry Potter sucks!

OK, we went to go see Harry Potter on the IMAX--huge screen, great for all the vistas and special effects. Whoops, we realized almost immediately that they forgot to include an actual movie with the special effects. Characters did bizarre things for no reason, there was an interminably long middle section of the movie that, while charming in its lack of concern for advancing the plot, did make my honey whisper romantically to me "only another 2 hours to go", a sentiment which I heartily agreed with. The wizards' tournament that was at the heart of the movie was not really competitive or exciting (except for one underwater scene that was just good enough to make me realize that the movie really could have been better) and had crowds of in-movie spectators in the bleachers even though they couldn't actually have seen anything while the event was going on. Everyone keeps giving dire warnings to our hero which never really come about, and at the end of the movie, after the evil baddie swears revenge in a blood-soaked tizzy, they all go blithely off on summer vacation with no worries about said baddie, who apparently (like midterms) only strikes during the school semester. Absolute dreck from end to end, and since we didn't see it when it first came out, we saw it in the company of a theater full of true believers, who had clearly seen it AGAIN AND AGAIN, and were thrilled to pay $10 for the IMAX experience. Sad, since I actually liked the third movie (Prisoner of Azkaban), and had hopes of this one. Apparently this new director decided that since he had a built in audience (it's Harry! On-Screen!) , he didn't really have to have the movie make any sense...paging George Lucas, who handed the Star Wars fanatics a similarly disappointing experience. I rate the movie candy at three stars. About the movie, 'nuff said.

Lovecraftian

Oddly, I've been rewriting my draft of my kids' book since I've been feeling "Brittle" (see previous post) and it's much darker and weirder, with strange slithering noises and horrifying abominations. It's also shaping up as a much better book, and typed with eight fingers at that. Huh.

Brittle

So we moved to wonderful Portland, Oregon, and I broke my finger at the Boston airport as we were leaving. With my purse strap! Hooray for the stewardesses and stewards of Continental who brought me endless cups of ice to stick my broken finger in. I worship Motrin like a god, because it kept me from making loud noises when I banged my finger on the tray (screw the upright and locked position). It also kept the many little kids on our aircraft from learning a whole new vocabulary of VERY bad words.

Turns out it's a benign bone tumor that made it break, so for a week I felt BRITTLE, like any bone in my body could break, without any warning. Felt so surreal, I've never really trusted my body to work well, but this is a little excessive. I felt like a collapsing building, in need of gut rehab. The codeine they gave me did not help the general weirdness. Nor did my husband unwillingly having to leave on two sequential business trips the day after the movers arrived. Eek--unpacking one handed in a new city where we know no one. Plus my husband is my best friend, so I was without best friend except by phone for two scary doctors' appointments. Hooray for all my Boston friends, at least one of which called me every day, plus my parents who did the same. And as always my husband, who is a cool cat, even when I felt very (unfairly) abandoned. He works hard for us, and misses me almost as much as our Tempurpedic bed when he is on the road. :) When he gets home, we'll both be happier.

Since my whole collapsing building period, I have seen many orthopedists, including an orthopedic oncologist at OHSU. It's very likely a benign one-off cartilage tumor called an enchondroma, which they will fix on Jan 5th by scooping it out and filling it with donor bone graft. (Cue Six Million Dollar Man theme music, we have the technology...) Then it will heal again, just like a nasty fracture. And the pathologist will carefully study it to make sure it really is benign. Which it is. And my bones feel a little more solid, though who knows about my brain. I miss our friends, and I almost cried when I got Samuel Kijima's Hanukkah baby picture. However, Portlanders are kind and friendly, and I will shortly land on my non-fractured feet. The city is full of books and weirdness in a way that I think will suit me very well, even if right now I desperately want to buy a house next door to one of our friends back in MA. However, I kid you not, I think the quality of life is better out here in Oregon--it really is beautiful. Hmmm, perhaps it's not just my finger that's fractured! :) We will thrive here.

TIVO whore

Yup, I'm a TIVO whore...when my husband goes out of town, I sit in front of the idiot box watching endless drivel. No commercials! But all that means is that I watch even more bad TV, compressed into more intense blocks. MUST...KILL...TV.

Thank goodness for N., who has concert and party invites. Hooray for Bastille Day! Now I must practice my three non-obscene French words. Bon Nuit.

Moving to Portland

Wow--I think we're really going to do it. We collect clutter like a coral reef, so I can't imagine getting the house ready to put on the market. Come one, come all, get your free stuff! Freecycle will ring like a slot machine this week.

All our friends are mad at us moving away. Particularly, and rightfully, R.S., who is pissed that we cancelled the Japan trip. I'd be pissed if I were him too, which makes it worse. N. says she'll stand in front of the house and tell buyers it's haunted. Most of all I'm sad to move away from my friend A.W. (not the rootbeer) who is going to have a baby girl soon! I love her kids, and Auntie Suzy won't be able to visit as much. I think we have to drug all our friends and move them with us. If we wake them up very slowly, maybe they won't notice the change. At least until winter, when it mysteriously won't snow. I still think the lifestyle change (less stress, more outdoor life, easier commute) will be good for us. We'll see--try it for a year, and come back if we hate it. Two weeks left at work, wrapping up my grants, very weird.

Howard gets back Saturday...should I go Catholic schoolgirl or catsuit?

Actually not sleepy at all!

Ah, insomnia. My days begin at midnight. It's truly odd, trying to reset my internal clock, which apparently thinks I live in London. A postcard would be nice, since my internal clock apparently travels without me. I should be writing now, but I'm not, because if I start writing now, I tend to stop only when the sunlight coming in through the window hurts my eyes and think...oh no, it's morning. Again.

My husband snores away contentedly like a big hibernating bear. Tomorrow, my eyes will glaze over in a staff meeting. Sleep well!