Category: Uncategorized

Uncategorized

My Great Brain

the outside lane

Last month, as part of my ongoing “learn more and save my brain” campaign, I read a biography on Catherine the Great, read up on small pox and the small pox vaccine, read up on inoculations in general, read up on two Russian Court artists of the 18th Century (and this is how well they struck me: I can’t even remember their  names off the top of my head), and did a very short study of serfdom in Russia.  Definitely worth my time, outside of the boring artists and the Court intrigues that set them in and out of favor with the reigning monarchs.

This month, I am already behind and haven’t read anything other than The Adventures of the Great Brain–and that, out loud to Thor at bedtime.  But, in starting that with him, I recalled that The Great Brain books affected my vernacular like few other books.  There are at least three phrases I use that come straight out of those books, the most used being “going like sixty” to mean moving quickly.

I find myself very busy at work, and love that.  It does cut into my reading time, and completely changes my aggressive self-study program.  But, I’ve also started working on getting out into the community.  I have applied to a volunteer position and will tell you more if I am accepted.  I am also going to visit a Daughters of the American Revolution meeting and start working on my membership.  I’m hoping that pans out.  If not, I will have to content myself with being a Daughter of Questionable Heritage.  Maybe I can start that group.

Bedtime for my monkey.  Time to go read more adventures of Tom Fitzgerald.

Howling Sea Lane, Religion, Uncategorized

You Can’t Have the T Without the A…or the V

the outside lane

In 1995, I was cruising toward the zenith of my zealotry, which crested in 1998.  I was 24-years-old and working for a major banking institution (you’d know it–they advertise everywhere.)  This bank, we’ll call Pursue, was a partner with the United Way, and every year there was an awesome party to kick off the employee giving campaigns.

I had worked for Pursue for two years at that point, and had enjoyed those parties massively.  The swag was always a nice perk, and at my just-above-minimum-wage salary, any perk was welcome.  One year we got lottery ticket scratch offs, and I won $100.  Do you know what $100 means to someone who makes $7.15 an hour?!

Somewhere between 1995 and 1996, Focus on the Family started to wage a real campaign against the United Way, citing that they gave money to Planned Parenthood, and Planned Parenthood performed abortions.  I had eschewed the secular in favor of strictly religious radio programming, so while I was at work, I listened to a lot of Focus on the Family* or Bob Larson (the Rush Limbaugh of Christian radio.)  Don’t judge me.  Okay, judge me, but do it out of love.

FotF’s programming convinced me that if I gave to the United Way, I was killing babies.  I may as well have been performing partial-birth abortions with my own teeth if a cent of my UW contribution went to Planned Parenthood.  And, much as I had personally boycotted Burger King for years (because they bought their fish from Iceland, and Iceland was harpooning whales or something–I forget.  man, did I miss their chicken sandwiches!), I took a stand against the United Way.

This meant refusing to attend the awesome party Pursue was holding because I felt it was hypocritcal to refuse to support UW and still benefit from their party.  No one seemed to care much that I didn’t want to support them financially (though it was all but a corporate mandate that employees give–and I disagree with corporately mandated giving), but they freaked out that I wasn’t going to go to the party.  In fact, members of management tried to force me to go to the party.

I did not back down.  I stood my ground against HR’s directive that I was not allowed to say why I wouldn’t participate.  It got ugly, then it got better.  I was resolute.  I did not go to the United Way parties for three years, and I missed out on some unbelievable swag and more scratch offs.  Feh.

I rarely stopped to think about the good the United Way does.  I rarely stopped to think about how they fulfill their vision:  Everyone deserves opportunities to have a good life: a quality education that leads to a stable job, enough income to support a family through retirement, and good health.  I focused on a fraction of a fraction, and I missed out on the opportunity to share my pittance with others who didn’t even have that.  I focused on the possibility of abortions not yet provided and ignored living, starving children.  Just like Jesus!  Ugh.  Jesus was all, “Girl, don’t look at me.”

It would be years before I would even allow myself to consider the good work that Planned Parenthood does.  Yes, they do provide abortions.  They also provide many other services to women and girls, who otherwise could not afford medical care.

From Wikipedia, some numbers:

[Planned Parenthood] serve[s] over five million clients a year, 26% of which are teenagers under the age of 19.[36] According to Planned Parenthood, 75% of their clients have incomes at or below 150 percent of the federal poverty level.[35]

Services provided at locations include contraceptives (birth control); emergency contraception; screening for breast, cervical and testicular cancers; pregnancy testing and pregnancy options counseling; testing and treatment for sexually transmitted diseases; comprehensive sexuality education, menopause treatments; vasectomies, tubal ligations, and abortion.

In 2009, Planned Parenthood provided 4,009,549 contraceptive services (35% of total), 3,955,926 sexually transmitted disease services (35% of total), 1,830,811 cancer related services (16% of total), 1,178,369 pregnancy/prenatal/midlife services (10% of total), 332,278 abortion services (3% of total), and 76,977 other services (1% of total), for a total of 11,383,900 services.[35][7][37][38][39][40] The organization also said its doctors and nurses annually conduct 1 million screenings for cervical cancer and 830,000 breast exams.

So what we’re looking at is 26% of services for cancer related issues, pregnancy, prenatal, or midlife services and care.  70% of services are related to the prevention of unwanted pregnancy, and the prevention and treatment of sexually transmitted disease.  96% of what Planned Parenthood does is directly related to women’s health, unborn baby health (because sexually transmitted diseases affect those guys, too!), and the avoidance of abortion through birth control.

The Susan G. Komen Foundation has the market cornered on cancer donation.  And, also from Wikipedia, “have been caught up in the controversy over “pinkwashing“—the use of breast cancer and the pink ribbon by corporate marketers, especially to promote products that might be unhealthful—in return for a donation to the cause. Komen benefits greatly from these corporate partnerships, receiving over $55 million a year from them.[61] However, critics say many of these promotions are deceptive to consumers and benefit the companies more than the charity.[62]”  

I’ve never been a big Komen fan, but have sponsored friends and family who have walked in the Race for the Cure.  No matter how commercial I find their message, I’m all for anything that is working to keep my family and friends alive.

Komen has done some wonderful things, including supporting Planned Parenthood, making it possible for them to provide 170,000 clinical breast exams, and 6,400 mammogram referrals in the past five years.  That’s somewhere around 200,000 women the Komen foundation touched in a real way.

Look.  I told you this story so that you understand that I have been on both sides of this coin.  I have been so zealously opposed to abortion (and choice, let’s be honest) that I would not support an organization whose work includes feeding and clothing, educating and advocating for the children who WERE NOT aborted.  I was so blinded by an nth of a percent out of religious righteousness that I ignored the screaming need of men, women and children who are already with us, and already in great distress.

I am 100% pro-choice.  It is my heart’s desire that abortion never be a wanted option, but so long as there are humans in the world, there will be imperfections (ill-health, rape, careless teenagers) and choice is valid.  We should work toward a world where every child is wanted, where women do not have to worry about considerations in the event of pregnancy due to rape or incest, where women’s health has improved to the point that we can save both mothers and children.

We help women, children, and the unborn when we support programs that offer preventative treatment and care, that offer contraception and education, and that provide healthcare to those who would not otherwise have access to it.  We help women, children, and the unborn when we support organizations like Planned Parenthood.  Which is why I have taken the amount of money I have spent previously sponsoring walkers in the 3-Day Race for the Cure and pledged it to Planned Parenthood this year.

*Focus has done a lot of good things.  I don’t want you to think I’m throwing any babies out with my bathwater.  I appreciate James Dobson on a personal level for giving my mother some parenting instruction she had lacked, and for giving me some tools to make it through my teen years.

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The Only Time the Words “SAG” and “BUTT” Are Acceptable in the Same Blog

the outside lane

Because I have lovely friends who are affiliated with the Screen Actors Guild, I got to attend the local SAG Awards party (and won some awesome SAG Swag.)  They trust me not to scare off the talent, so I also got to work the box office with my former colleague (and still friend) Sheila.  Thank goodness she was with me because I am terrible with celebrities.

Isn’t that crazy?  I know all the gossip-worthy ones, and the ones who are on the few shows I watch, but outside of that…  Listen, I’ve confused Spike Jonze for Spike Lee, and Terrence Malik with Terrence Howard.  That’s unforgivable.  Terrence Malik is a screenwriter and producer.  Terrence Howard is a spokesman for baby wipes.  I also have a really hard time with Guy Pearce and Christian Bale, Leighton Meester and Rachel Bilson, and–okay, ask my husband, I confuse everyone.  I’m excited when I get one right.  Like when Trinity from The Matrix showed up on Chuck and I knew it was Trinity, and didn’t think she was Xena, because yes, I have confused Trinity for Xena.

One gentleman came through and Sheila said, “Lane!  That’s [famous actor]!”

I said, “Who?”

“[Famous Actor]!”

“Don’t know him,” I shrugged.

She helpfully supplied a quick list of hits and I squinted and tilted my head.  He looked sort of familiar, but he was no Johnny Depp, you know?  However, THIS GUY, was Johnny Depp.

Fauxny Depp came in dressed in the distressed fedora and Buddy Holly rims we’re so used to seeing on Johnny, but unlike the swirling cloud of rumor that Johnny accessorizes with a body scarf of stink, Fauxny had no discernible odor at all.  That was my first clue that he was a celebrity lookalike.

Seriously, I thought to myself, “That guy looks a bloody lot like Johnny Depp.  I wonder if that is Johnny Depp.  I’m gonna play it cool.  Hmm.  Doesn’t smell.  That’s not Johnny Depp.  Why would Johnny Depp be at this party and not the one in LA?”  That was my second clue.  The third was when Alex Mazieri introduced himself as…Alex Mazieri.  Can’t fool me.

Glad I played it cool.

The other highlight of my evening was having a Butt Sketch made.

I’ve heard of these before and always avoided them.  I thought they were caricature style sketches of backsides, and the last thing I want to see is my tuckus in the fisheye lense of the caricature artist.  I walked up on the artist, Rhett, as he was sketching the backside of a zaftig woman in a fur.  It was actually lovely and I determined that I should have a portrait made of my own posterior.

Here it is.  As Dana Carvey-as-George Michael might say, “Look at my butt!  The worst thing you can do is try to ignore it.”

If you should ever have a Butt Sketch drawn, do not choose this pose. You will end up feeling like a swaybacked mule. Get comfy.

 

The front of me looked like this:

Alas, I have no career as a celebrity lookalike in front of me. You know I would.

It was good times all around.

Uncategorized

Crying Like a Baby

the outside lane

Of all the parenting questions and insecurity I have, childcare has been the biggest.  Having never had a kidney stone (which my mother says is a pain worse than the 36-hour, no drug labor she endured, up hill, both ways, in the snow, at a military hospital), the pain of childbirth (or at least the beginning of it) is the worst pain I can imagine physically.  Having never lost a child (thank God, knock wood, and all the other things), the pain of leaving my newborn with a stranger is the worst emotional pain I’ve ever felt.  I don’t really remember how much labor pains hurt, only how good that epidural felt, and how happy I was when Thor finally made his appearance, but I remember with awful clarity how it felt when I put that five week old baby in the arms of a stranger, making minimum wage to care for my precious, hard won son.

I am not ashamed to tell you that I broke down sobbing, and had to sit in my car for a long time before I could make myself drive away.

We have been extremely fortunate that we have always had a choice in childcare.  We haven’t had to make do with the bare minimum because it was all we could afford, and we haven’t had to rely on unpaid care.  We have been extremely fortunate.

This morning, I am thinking about mothers who are having to leave their babies in the arms of people they aren’t sure they can trust, hoping against hope that the worker is good to their baby, while they go to work to try to earn enough to keep that child in food and diapers.  I am thinking about mothers who don’t have a choice.  I am thinking about mothers who are trusting fate.

When I am Overlord, we will find ways to pay well for three things, and we will find ways to attract the best people for these jobs:  Childcare, education, and elder care.  No mother should have to be afraid to leave her baby.

Any idea how hard it was to leave this little guy with strangers? And he was 9 months old by the time this was taken. ❤
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Lamb Chops

the outside lane

I’ve always looked a bit younger than I am, which was a massive inconvenience from the ages of about 8 to 23.  I very clearly recall getting on the school bus, heading for the first day of 3rd Grade, and being told I had to sit in the front seat  because that’s where the Kindergarteners went.  The bus driver didn’t believe I wasn’t a Kindie, and I was humiliated.  Then, there was the time McDonald’s refused to give me a scratch off ticket because you had to be at least 16 to play.  I was 20.  There was the30+ year old pedobear who asked me out on a date, and finding out I was 19 instead of 14 or 15, was pretty disappointed.  (He must have had similar issues, because I’d pegged him for early 20s.)  There were countless incidents with my ID, and being pulled over because I looked too young to be driving, too.

Somewhere in my late 20s, I started to appreciate it.  It was nice to be mistaken for younger.  I could get away with more.  In my 30s, when people were telling me I looked to be in my 20s, it was especially nice.  And nicer still when people thought B and I were the same age–y’all know I married a younger man, right?  I am still hearing that I look younger than 41, but I think I have hit the point at which no matter how much younger than my true age I may look, I still look…mature.  The lamb has turned to mutton.  No one is ever going to card me for any reason other than policy, or flattery again.  Not even myopia is going to bring on that second, suspicious look at my ID.

Eh.  No matter.  I was never hoping to be anyone’s MILF anyway.

Speaking of lamb…

Ever since reading this story about waste from a meat processing plant being routed into an area river, I’ve been having a real problem getting meat down.  I’m already a really picky meat eater, with a hair trigger gag reflex, but I find my throat constricting at the thought of pork these days.  When I went grocery shopping today, I couldn’t even bring myself to buy bacon.  I love bacon.  Loved bacon.  Today bacon is making me gag.

I’m not one to harp on about the ethics of meat eating.  You don’t gripe at sharks, or alligators, or lions, or chimpanzees for taking advantage of their place on the food chain, and I think it’s silly to complain that humans shouldn’t eat whatever form of protein is available to them (outside of Swiftian proposals, that is.)  However, between Upton Sinclair and the meat processing industry, I am being driven nearer and nearer to vegetarianism.

I’ll never be a true vegetarian, and I’ll probably get over my mental block against bacon soon (I hope!), but if the pork farmers of America want me to buy their ham, they really need to work harder to make me forget that it once had hooves, ears, and a snout.  I’m gagging again.