All I'm Saying there's a joke in here somewhere

I made an appointment with a new chiropractor yesterday for my sciatic/piriformis issues. I'd had a recommendation to this place, and so I called in to become a new patient. As I was talking to the receptionist, she was gave me directions on how to get there:

"We're off of Overland between Maple Grove and Five Mile."

"Okay, the north or south side of Overland?"

"Well, that depends on which direction you're coming from."

"... ... Um, north and south don't change, regardless of which direction you're driving."

D'oh. But my appointment was today and I must report the chiropractor is noticeably brighter than the receptionist.

What you are looking at in the picture above is a shot of an H3 Humvee on the interstate in Boise, taken with my crappy cell phone camera. The reason I wanted to show this to you guys is the strangeness of the vanity plate it had on there: ENVIRO.

I've got to admit, I can't figure it out. Is this someone who is totally thumbing their nose at green folks who loathe the Humvee market? Or is it a really misguided person who believes that they've made an environmental stand by buying the H3, rather than the larger H2 or original model Humvee?

Just to make sure I had my facts in order, I did a little online checking around and found a poll of H3 owners, where 65% report that their H3 gets less than 15 mpg. Speaking personally, I carry around a load of guilt because my all-wheel drive Toyota wagon only gets 23 mpg in the city, and I haven't quite gotten to the Green Level of Reuseable Fabric Toilet Paper yet (though I have the utmost respect for people who do, really). So if I get a slight moral hangover about that, would a true ENVIRO really be cruising around in that rig?

What say you?

My 401(k)-ish retirement program has online access to it, but I struggle with the passwords. I end up having to request new ones pretty much every time I want to get in and look at it, then it gets mailed to me and I'm not thinking of my retirement account by that time and I lose the password, and the whole cycle starts up again several months later. I'm afraid the experience has cost me.

I got a paper statement the other day that showed I had a "loss" of $20,000 to the account over the last twelve months. I put loss in quotation remarks because the whole stock market is a big ponzi scheme, so it isn't like I ever actually had that money. The good news for me is that I hadn't gone below my lifetime contribution amount, so I really hadn't lost any money that would otherwise have been in my pocket.

I finally got my act together and lined everything up so that I could do real account access. I was able to get in today and re-allocated my existing balance predominantly into the federal bond category, which is highly secure, but doesn't generate much of a profit. But it never loses, and that's the main thing. Then I adjusted my salary contributions a little bit to put a bit of extra money into that secure fund, but I left the bulk of it in the high-risk fund that mirrors the Standard and Poore's Index. I also pulled all of my funds out of the international trades, since a friend of mine said her husband (an exhaustive researcher) feels like even bigger badness is about to happen in that area.

I figure I could at least secure the money I do have in the retirement account, and yet still be putting money into buying stocks in the higher risk category so that I can garner some profit someday when stocks go back up.

That's the plan, anyway. I just really wish I had done it six months ago.

Being raised a Jehovah's Witness has resulted in me having somewhat of an affinity/aversion to the Apocalypse. On the one hand you're scared; on the other you're looking forward to what happens on the other side. (Rarely does it occur that you wouldn't survive.) This explains why Darlene and I share a true love of post-Apocalyptic fiction. I look at it less as a story, and more as a survival guide.

That's why when I saw a message board post titled, "Buy Food. Lots." I knew I probably shouldn't read it. I go to a site that's mainly for natural parenting types who have an ecological bent, and it sometimes draws the conspiracy theorists. They're usually easy to spot.

Anyway, I started reading the post. The poster said they had very good natural instincts about impending social events, and that she'd pulled her money out of the stock market before the last few major crashes, Black Friday being the first. She said her combination of economic sense and education led her to believe we're about to have some kind of global collapse wherein supply chains for goods would break down. Lots of people scoffed at her; others jumped on board.

I lay awake for a while that night, pondering what I'd buy at CostCo if I knew there was something like that coming soon. I walked up and down the aisles in my head, speculating on what would keep, what wouldn't, what would pack the most nutritional punch.

It was inevitable, regardless of whether I'd read that post or not, but tonight we went to CostCo. I held myself back pretty well, but I have to admit that I'm looking around the house and thinking we could hack it fine for six months or so, provided the power and water didn't go out.

God, I hate being vulnerable to that kind of thing. But...I guess I have to accept it as part of my heritage. And not let it drive me over the edge entirely. (There's far too much clay in the soil here for me to start digging a cellar in the back yard. )

We went to Fred Meyer for groceries this morning, and as I was pulling Freya out of the car seat, something agitated her nether regions. She said, "Ouch! That hurt my hoo-ha."

I said, "I'm sorry, baby."

She smiled and waved her arm in a laissez-faire way and said, "Don't worry, guys. It's not broken."

Do you ever sit at the computer and wish you'd find something that would make you feel good, would give you a little boost? I do. That's why I buy a lot of things on e-Bay, really. Today I was puttering around, not getting fulfillment from shopping, and I checked my e-mail to see I had a note from Kiva saying that two of my micro-loans had been paid off!

What's a micro-loan? Wikipedia defines micro-loans and micro-credit as:

Microcredit is the extension of very small loans (microloans) to the unemployed, to poor entrepreneurs and to others living in poverty. These individuals lack collateral, steady employment and a verifiable credit history and therefore cannot meet even the most minimal qualifications to gain access to traditional credit. Microcredit is a part of microfinance, which is the provision of a wider range of financial services to the very poor.

I found Kiva a year or so ago, and started out with two loans: one to a female entrepreneur in Tajikistan who sells cosmetics and personal care products in a bazaar and who needed to expand her stock to grow her business, and one to a cooperative of Pakistani women who were growing their village economy by gathering firewood and tailoring clothes. Both of those loans, which were $25.00 each from my pocket and financed for another $475 or so from other members of Kiva, were repaid in full today.

You can withdraw your money back out (you don't earn any interest and could lose your loan money because the loans are unsecured), but you can also continue re-loaning it to other applicants. The new loan I started today was to help a Peruvian woman expand her existing sweeet shop business. I've got a couple of other loans out right now to a woman who sells breakfast food at a stall in Senegal, and to a builder in Lebanon who is expanding his own business.

I felt a lot better after making my new loan today than I would have by buying something off e-Bay; I know that I gave someone a hand up. I love to know that I can help build peace and success with people and families that I will never meet, families who aren't as fortunate as my own. So can you, if you like.

I've mentioned my addiction to dressing Freya in Hanna Andersson clothes before. Generally, I buy them used on e-Bay or I wait until their "Big Sale," which happens twice a year and I stock up on Freya's next size. Rarely, I find the stuff at consignment stores.

I had a ton of stuff she'd outgrown, and was not about to take them in to the usual consignment place because you get exactly the same for that brand as you get for Circo or Baby Gap or whatever. I finally got all of it together, took pictures of it, and listed it for sale on a couple of message boards I frequent.

My goodness, that was time well spent. By the time I was done this weekend, I had sold over $200 worth of merchandise! Some of that goes to shipping, but it's still a heck of a good price considering I ended up selling most items for probably 70-90% of what I bought it for.

Matt was all excited about the money I made until he realized how much money I'd spent to get it all. Heh.

Well, I feel rather disgusting today.

I went for a massage at a place (not the place that peeled my face off) I've been going to off and on lately, and found a massage therapist who I really liked a lot. So that was great. And yet...

She really worked over my shoulders and lats, and I'd been in a face-down position most of the time. My nose was getting pretty stuffy from being in that position, and I felt like it might be a little bit runny. She wrapped up the massage (the whole thing was while I was face-down), and went out of the room to let me get dressed again. I rolled over and gratefully took a little swipe at my nose, and:

I HAD A BLOODY NOSE. A REALLY BLOODY NOSE.

I grabbed a tissue and took a peek at the headrest. There was a spot of blood on it, which was embarassing. And then my eye focused on the floor beneath the headreast. Seriously. There was a spot of blood on the floor probably about the size of a cinnamon roll. (Hungry?) And it was a carpet floor.

For whatever reason, there was a box of Cottonelle wipes on the dresser there (maybe they get incontinent clients?), so I grabbed one and started swiping away. It actually sort of worked, but...

Anyway, long story short, I confessed and was terrifically embarassed. To her credit, the therapist was a lot more worried about me than the floor, but sheesh. You can't take me anywhere.

I read in National Geographic Adventure magazine today that a "French space artist" has conceived of a project to send a sort of time capsule into space, where it will orbit the earth for about 50 millenia (I think that's 50,000 years, but I'm a public school student), and then evidently re-enter the atmosphere to land somewhere on whatever Earth shall be at that point in time.

Enclosed within will be messages written on glass DVDs from anyone who cares to share one right now. Kooky? Yep. Implausible? You betcha. Did I do it anyway? You know it. An excerpt:

...we have a daughter who just turned three years old. Her name is Freya. She is the most wonderful thing I have ever known and has taught me more in the last three years than I have ever learned before.

Have peace, please.
Casey

We'll never know what happens to it, but just maybe someone will hear what we have to say. Want to try it out? Go here to put your own message on the Keo time capsule.

Nanoo-nanoo.

On our way home from school/work tonight, Freya and I got caught up in traffic. We were on an overpass above the interstate and because I have a short car, I couldn't see over the taller vehicles and assumed we were waiting for an accident to get cleared up. We sat there for a long time.

Eventually, I noticed a couple of motorcycle policemen coming up the onramp ahead of us and thought, "Oh, good, someone to help get traffic moving." And then I noticed two more. And two more. And then I realized there was no traffic on the eastbound interstate. At. All. I looked up the interstate and saw nothing but flashing lights of motorcycle cops and some larger vehicles behind them, and it dawned on me: the Vice President of the United States of America.

He was in Boise today to visit the Special Olympics games, which are being held here this week. I tried to take a picture with my camera phone of the limos, but it didn't turn out very good:

Shortly after they passed by on their way to the airfield, traffic got moving again. And seconds later, Freya's and my heinies passed over the EXACT spot of pavement that Joe Biden's heiny had hovered over shortly before.

I got all tingly.

For the answers to yesterday's post of lines from songs, click in the extended entry.

Continue reading "Brush With Fame"

I'm at a loss for anything quantitative to post tonight, so how about some fluff? I'm going to pull lines of songs from my Zune workout playlist, and see if you can figure out what they are. No Googling, now!

1. Kids on the corner playin' ghetto games

2. Boys say "When is he gonna give us some room?"

3. Men go crazy in congregations

4. We'll kiss just as before

5. You say you want to spend the winter in Fierenza

6. I know between the two of us her heart we can steal

7. People always told me that bars were dark and lonely

8. But each time I go out with someone new

9. I keep my eyes wide open all the time

10. I fall like a sparrow, fly like a dove

11. Our fathers fought the second World War

12. The rain exploded with a mighty crash

13. If the sugar refinining company won't save me

14. There was blood and a single gunshot

15. I got a freaky old lady named Cocaine Katie

16. She don't eat meat

17. Same old stool, the same old fool

18. I had seven good years before I noticed they were looking at me

19. I'll sleep with you baby for a thousand years

20. She broke my heart but I love her just the same

Now, since these really could be Googled, I don't feel like I can offer a prize. But I'll give you glory here. I'll warn ya; I've got eclectic tastes, sorta.

Is it just me, or does the mass national recall of products with peanut butter in them really make you crave peanut butter? I cannot get enough of store-bought peanut butter cookies lately, and I'm starting to wonder if I have some kind of a death wish.

It's exactly the same as my ravenous cravings for steak back when the mad cow scare was going on.

I'll venture that a lot of you have already seen the video from Courage Campaign talking about Ken Starr's and the Proposition 8 Legal Defense Fund's effort to preserve Prop 8, invalidating 18,000 marriages in the state of California. If you haven't, think for a moment about how you'd feel if there was an attempt out there to terminate your marriage, based on nothing of your choosing--you still loved your spouse, everything was going well in the marriage, and yet...someone wanted to reach their hand into it and sever your legal standing as a married couple. How would you feel? Just a little indignant? Scared? Or couragous enough to stand up and say that it isn't okay?

It's funny, I live in Idaho, a state known for wanting the government to keep its hands out of everything. Just yesterday there was an opinion piece in the local paper (that I found totally wackadoo, incidentally) about how, by accepting stimulus plan funding, local governments were allowing increased federal control into their programs. Idaho ALWAYS raises a ruckus when The Government wants to meddle. But on the issue of gay marriage? Not so much.

So. Are you feeling courageous? Then take a minute and watch the video below to see some of the families and married couples who could be divorced by this measure, even (or especially) if it makes you uncomfortable. There's nothing gory there--just people who love each other. And if you think it's okay for them to have their marriages torn apart, don't do anything else. If, however, you feel compassion for them and their children, please sign the petition to the Supreme Court at the end of the video, asking the Court to please turn over hateful Proposition 8. Thank you.

Oh, my baby. You're three years old.

What do I say to you on your third birthday that is profound and will mean something to you twenty or thirty years in the future if you read this? Oh: You? You are an incredible human being, and I really do mean that with the utmost sincerity. You aren't just my daughter--you are a person, and I am so proud to have given you to the rest of humanity. When someone cries, you sit and rub their back and give silent support. When someone gets hurt, you give them a hug and a kiss because that makes it feel better. I think that you will always have the sort of heart that wants to reach out and help.

You've learned to make jokes. Yesterday at lunch I said, "Tomorrow is your birthday, Freya," and you said, "Yeah, I'll be seven!" I gave you a mock-surprised look and you laughed and said, "I'm just kidding you, Mommy."

When you are working on a project, you sing little made-up songs to yourself. You love to do art projects, and I can count on you giving us several drawings through the course of the day. You're able to recognize a few words by sight: your name, Mom, Dad, hop. You've learned to use the mouse on the computer, which is great because you can play kiddie games by yourself, but scary because your father suspects you might accidentally download malware or something.

Your birthday party is going to consist of your Grandma Jeanne and Grandpa Gene, my dad (Grandpa Larry), and Grandpa Larry's fiancee, Elaine. And Daddy and I, of course. We'll have pizza for dinner, and you've asked for pink cake with pink frosting. There will be balloons and party hats, and I know you're getting two My Little Ponies, a set of wooden musical instruments, and an indoor bowling game. Oh, and a savings bond from your visiting grands.

Each and every one of us will be thrilled to be spending your birthday with you, and will be looking forward with excitement to see what this next year will bring.

You are my treasure and I love you forever, no matter what.
Mommy

Okay, it's having my in-laws here that is bringing me down, down, down. We're concluding day six of a ten-day visit. So, on the one hand we're getting there. On the other hand, the stress is cumulative, so if I'm at (for example) 60% of maximum stress, it's not looking good for me making it through the stay without blowing a major gasket.

As I've noted before, Freya is not receptive to people besides her closest circle--that's Matt and I, some of her school friends, and one little girl she plays with frequently and calls her sister. Even my dad, who she sees weekly, is not part of the inner circle. And because she's (nearly) three years old, she's not at all able or interested in guarding her thoughts and emotions--if she doesn't like you or what you're doing, you're going to know about it. That's not to say we don't work hard to make her polite, but you can't make a toddler go hug someone. And that's the kind of behavior Grandma would like to see. When Freya isn't interested in being around her, Grandma pushes the issue and that makes things far worse. Then Freya calls a spade a spade, and Grandma sulks. Then I see her sulking and it makes me not only resentful, but guilty feeling for not having the "normal child" who is ecstatic to be around grandparents. (I'm not saying those exist--you're a lot more likely to see a live unicorn in my house, actually.)

I finished up work a little early today and picked Freya up from school to take her to a park. She needs a little fun without the pressure to perform, and the sun was shining and I was in no hurry to get home. It was good for both of us.

To add one more whine in here, I have the wretched cold that's going around, and am SO NOT ABOUT TO stay home from work, so I feel like crap. Waaaaaahhhhh!

If you don't have anything nice to say...

...you can fill in the blanks. Hoping for better tomorrow.

/grump

We're finding that gluten-free really isn't all that difficult--it seems like there are a lot of vendors of GF convenience foods (bread, pizza crust, pasta, etc.) out there, and lots of information on the internet as far as recipes and product recommendations go. Your average dinner of a slice of meat, vegetable and potato is okay, and we found out tonight that the local frozen yogurt joint is gluten free.

I am even happier to report that Matt says he feels much less gassy since going off gluten.

I think we can all be grateful for that, yes?

Well, we're back to being a plague house. Grandma and Grandpa (Matt's folks) arrived late Friday night and Grandma has a terrible cold. Grandpa seems to have caught it, and Freya has her own version of the cold. Hers came on too soon for it to be the Wisconsin strain, but she's sure feeling it with a fever and froggy little voice.

It's funny--this is actually a great time for her to be sick, should she have to be. Matt has the week off of work, and Grandma and Grandpa are slow moving enough that they don't mind just hanging out at the house.

I'm healthy so far, and have knocked back two long naps this weekend. And I had an extra brownie tonight to boost my immune system, so I should be good, right?