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

Perhaps you've heard by now that the Women's Development Organization of Kenya has called for a nation-wide sex strike until the governing parties wrangling for power start waging peace against one another.

Now the Women's Development Organization of Kenya, made up of 11 different women's rights groups, has called for women across the country to impose a sex ban on their partners for one week to protest the political infighting in Kenya's government. Sex, says the women's group, is the one thing that cuts beyond tribal, political and class lines. The group even plans to compensate Kenya's many prostitutes for abstaining.

"During post-election violence women paid the highest price. We were sexually assaulted, we were the highest casualties," said Nyaundi, "That's why we are telling women today that if we allow the situation to deteriorate any further we will be the ones to pay."

From CNN.com, showing the sexual disparity in some relationships:

"This will accomplish nothing other than embarrass us," said Martin Kamau, a resident of Nakuru, a major city northwest of the capital. "We are being punished, and yet we are not the ones causing the problems."

Others were not so worried. "Seven days is nothing," one man told KTN, a Nairobi television station. "I can wait a year."

I think it is high time that women used sex as a tool to achieve peace. Sex has been used against us since it was discovered that many of us were physically weaker, and the true power that women hold has been used only covertly, if at all. These women are taking the opportunity to use sex as a tool, and the fact that they are telling the world about it will hopefully bring attention to the issues the Kenyans continue to face.

Why is it that Target just reaches into my bank account and sucks money out like a Dyson Animal?

We went there tonight because Matt needed those little cartridges that fit into his shaver and squeeze shave cream onto his face. He couldn't find them, and while I didn't need a single thing, I still managed to spend $38.

I swear, their clearance racks are beyond compelling.

I am returned from my girls' getaway to Las Vegas. The trip was great; exhausting, but great.

We were lucky because one of my friends has a cousin who is a diamond club member at Bally's and we scored a comped room there. Hard to beat a free room. We hung out poolside, we shopped until I dropped (I have to concede there were others who very definitely out-shopped me), and we saw "Phantom of the Opera" at The Venetian. I had never seen it before, and while the singing was tremendous, as were the special effects, I think I'm more of an "Oklahoma!" kind of a girl. Which is not to say that I haven't downloaded a lot of the music.

Vegas has changed a lot in the seven years since I have been there. When Matt and I got married there, the town was really trying to bill itself as being a family destination. I think it is less of that now, and more of an attraction for women traveling in groups like my own. There is a ton of tremendous shopping, and everywhere I looked I saw bunches of four to six women, aging from their thirties to their seventies, all hanging out and having fun together. You didn't see as many men, and certainly very few who appeard to be traveling alone. It also didn't seem as full of cigarette smoke, though my failure to notice could have been because of my sinus issue. I'm still carrying the cold around, but it fortunately didn't impair me much while we were down there.

I lost a grand total of fifteen dollars on the penny slot machines. I was impressed on the last night that it took me as long to lose seven dollars as it did for the friend next to me (also on a penny machine) to lose one hundred. Gamble cheap, kids. As I sat there, I had to shake my head and wonder at how I was sitting in front of a TV screen playing a game that took less intellectual energy than Candyland, and I was paying to do it. I'd be interested to hear some studies on why people do these things.

Anyway, it was wonderful to spend some time with my girlfriends, and I'm not just saying that because they'll read my blog and beat me down if I don't. We had a tremendous dinner at Mesa Grill, which is a Bobby Flay restaurant in Caesar's Palace, and we laughed until we cried. Even without the shopping and glitz and glamor, it would have been so worth it all just for that one long laugh together.

Look out, Las Vegas--Typhoid Mary approacheth.

My cold might be slightly better today, at least, that's what I am telling myself. I'm still congested and have a hacking cough, but I'm not as congested, or as hacking. I've taken zinc, vitamin C, collodial silver, lots of tea, and several naps.

I have also taken cold medicine for the first time since learning I was pregnant with Freya, which is almost four years now. The neti pot can't get through the congestion on its own, so I figure the medicine might clear enough of it off that I can get the best effects from the nasal rinsing. And the rinsing might help prevent the cold medicine from drying things out so much that it ultimately would turn into a sinus infection.

I dunno. All I know is that I'm getting on a plane tomorrow morning, and I hope my head doesn't explode at 30,000 feet from the pressure.

This post is not for the squeamish, nor for those who are uncomfortable discussing the removal of hair specific to the nether regions. Don't say I didn't warn you, 'kay?

Continue reading "Ouch"

Tomorrow (that would be Wednesday the 22nd) is "Administrative Professionals Day." What's that? That's what they call Secretary's Day nowadays, except that the title encompasses more people. Why am I telling you this? Because I don't want you to get in trouble at work tomorrow.

Huh?

See, we administrative assistants are clearly enlightened people. That's why we changed the name of Our Day to reflect a more professional theme. However, we still want presents and stuff. If we were all that enlightened, we wouldn't have a day at all, right?

So. Here are some suggestions for things you can do to make sure you make at least one administrative professional happy tomorrow.

1. Get him/her a gift card to their favorite coffee joint. Five bucks is fine for people you barely work with/know, but for your own assistant, you'd better go for at least $20 and follow it up with;

2. Flowers. Modest bouquets are fine, but the fact of the matter is that other staff assistants will be comparing the sizes. It's like engagement rings and stuff. Size matters, but remembering it at all matters more.

3. Time off. If possible, grant that person the afternoon (or one of their choosing) off with pay. That's a great gift.

4. If you're savvy, you may well know their favorite lunch spot. If that's the building cafeteria, choose another option.

5. A gift certificate to a spa would be great, but only if it is large enough to at least cover the cheapest item on the spa menu. And that better not mean an eyebrow waxing, or you're going to be in big trouble.

Why bother with the date? Well, it's one of those things we all know is clearly a Hallmark holiday. But you know how folks who get something nice from someone on the other Hallmark holidays feel, and how cruddy it makes you feel if you don't get anything? That's why. Plus, it really is nice to say thank you every now and then. Administrative folks tend to shoulder a lot of the weight that you'd otherwise be having to deal with before you could get to doing your primary job. That's good, right?

Finally, if possible, bring something nice for each administrative person in your office. For example, if one particular person handles your group's budget, bring him/her something. Do the same for your human resource contact, or the person in central files. I cannot tell you how many dividends a small token will pay you in the long run. Being "thought of" goes a long way toward doing you favors down the road when you really need one.

And if you're an administrative professional yourself, I hope you're treated well tomorrow!

I've been trying to talk myself into believing that my sore throat and somewhat stuffy nose were symptoms of springtime allergies. But when I woke up this morning, I realized that I simply couldn't pretend anymore: I have a cold.

Ordinarily, a cold isn't that big of a deal. However, I cannot be sick toward the end of this week because I am going on a much-anticipated trip to Las Vegas for a girls' weekend to celebrate a friend's 40th birthday. There will be no cold. So what's a girl to do? More particularly, what am I to do, since I have been refusing to take cold medicine for the last four years (resulting in a MASSIVE reduction in my number of sinus infections, by the way), and because it totally does not warrant antibiotic use?

I bit the bullet and I got myself a Neti pot. If you're not familiar with them, nasal irrigation is the key principle. You fill it with lukewarm water and a saline mix, then stick the spout into one of your nostrils, open your mouth (for the sake of pressure), and tip your head over a sink and allow all the liquid to run out your other nostril. Sounds purty, don't it? I've been avoiding it for years.

Well, I have to tell you...it wasn't that bad. I was given to expect that I'd be horking out lung-sized chunks of mucous, but I didn't at all. (Maybe I did it wrong? Nah, don't think so.) I don't feel immediately cured, but am sure if I combine twice-daily or more usage with massive doses of zinc, I'll be much better by Friday.

Viva Las Neti!

Freya and I spent three hours this morning at Monkey Bizness, which is a kids' play place with gigantic inflatable slides and bouncers, as well as other kid-fun apparatus. We went with Freya's best friend from Montessori, Quinn, and some neighbors from down the street who have a daughter a bit younger than Freya. (We're hoping the two hit it off so that we can have some close-by playmates.)

We've been to Rafiki (a similar place on the other side of town), before for a birthday party, and while the concept is similar for both, the execution is a little better at Rafiki, I think. Rafiki has a whole area for non-physical play that includes play kitchens, dollhouses, dress-up clothes and baby doll options. It's great for little girls who need a break from running and jumping and sliding. Or maybe it's good for the mothers of little girls, the mothers needing the break more than anyone else.

I seriously got a major workout following Freya around on the climbing/obstacle course thing, sliding on the huge slide (seriously, it's probably two stories tall and VERY fun), and jumping all over the place in the bouncer. It wasn't crowded at all, which really allowed me to get in there with the kids.

Anyway, I'm exhausted. I think I'll sleep very well tonight. Heck, Freya probably will too!

I just finished reading I'm Perfect, You're Doomed: Tales from a Jehovah's Witness Upbringing, by Kyria Abrahams. It's her story of growing up as a JW and losing her faith and nearly her mind in the process.

It's so funny--her writing style is acerbic and the way she translates JW culture is (for me) humorous on the one hand, and on the other hand makes me think, "Well, yeah, isn't that what everyone grew up believing? Oh, wait..." It's a little bit healing for me in a way because I see that my experience was not unique (not that I necessarily thought it was, but it's hard to find folks to compare notes with, and those who do share the experience obviously have differing issues and reactions). In another way, it makes me intensely sad because it brings back some memory for me of the fear I had as a kid: fear of Armageddon, fear of losing my family, fear of not being able to make my mother happy.

Essentially, it's giving me a lot to process through with my therapist, who actually ordered her own copy and has by now read it. (My therapist is the shit, yo.)

Anyway, check it out if you get a chance. It's a really interesting look at the cult, and while it's very funny, I'd say only about 10% is comedic hyperbole. The rest of it, while it sounds hysterically funny and like the author surely must be making it up, is actually, sadly, true.

I'm wondering: would you ever get botox injections?

I'm not really shriveling up or anything, but I'm torn. On the one hand, it seems like a pretty simple way to get rid of lines. It might even prevent lines for a while, if you can't move your muscles enough to create lines (like that 11 that appears between my brows when I am concentrating).

On the other hand, I once read (in Richard Preston's "The Hot Zone") that the amount of botulism toxin in the period at the end of a sentence, placed into the Potomac, could kill the entire population of Washington, DC. So it seems like the kind of thing one shouldn't monkey with.

Just throwing it out there. Would you do it?

We had one of my oldest friends (we went to junior high together) and her husband and daughter over for Easter lunch yesterday. Their daughter just turned two, and she and Freya got to have an Easter egg hunt in the back yard. It was extremely fun to watch those little girls searching around and discovering treasures. Freya wanted to hide everything and hunt for it again, but I was ready for ham, tyrant that I am.

And here's Freya afterwards, wearing the look that earned her the nickname "Easter Beaster."

Finally, Matt made me a loaf of home-made bread today so that I can have an incredibly delicious egg salad sandwich for my lunch tomorrow. My mouth literally waters when I think of it. I'm not sure there is a finer sandwich in the world.

We live in a subdivision that backs up to a big piece of land owned by the city. It's supposed to eventually be turned into a park, but is leased to a farmer who keeps it cultivated for three-quarters of the year. There are signs posted at both of the road accesses to the park stating that it is closed to motorized vehicles (with an exception allowed for the farmer, obviously).

Unfortunately for us, there are some incredibly imagination-deficient folks who live down the street from us, and they like to use the area as their own personal dirt bike and ATV area. I've talked to them about the closure, Matt has talked to their kids, and we have called the sheriff's department on them once. Why? Well, because their kids go out and ride, and Idaho law says no one can operate a motor vehicle without a driver's license unless they're on an established trail. And because half the time they don't have any safety equipment on. And most especially because it is a bloody goddamned pain in the ass to have a dirt bike zipping around the other side of my fence, sounding like a mosquito crossed with a helicopter.

Nothing has worked so far. Tonight their 9 year old kid was out there, and he was riding around in the field. Not the access road to the field, like they usually do, but IN THE FARMER'S CULTIVATED FIELD. I have a feeling that the farmer would probably beat the living Jesus out of anyone who was out tearing up the crops. Matt flagged the kid down and told him to stay out of the field and the kid didn't say a word. On the other hand, that was the last time we saw him.

Since the direct approach hasn't worked, I'm considering voodoo. I found myself thinking today, "If he crashed in the field and broke, oh, a leg or something, the ambulance would come and maybe the parents would get a ticket. That'd be awesome."

I guess that probably makes me a terrible person.

I imagine you've by now heard of the National Organization for Marriage's lame-ass attempt at scare-mongering among those who are not only opposed to gay marriage, but who are so weak minded that they won't question any of the "statements" made by the actors in the video.

I prefer this version:

I can't wait until I get the bumper sticker I ordered from Etsy the other day. It'll likely keep my in-laws from borrowing my car the next time they visit, plus maybe it'll give LGBT folks who see it a warm fuzzy:

I have to participate in a pagan fertility rite this weekend, and I'm a little nervous about it. Not because I think I'm going to catch pregnant or anything, but because I've never done such a thing and, well, I'm afraid I'll mess it up.

What am I talking about?

Preparing, dyeing and hiding Easter eggs, of course. From Wikipedia:

The egg is widely used as a symbol of the start of new life, just as new life emerges from an egg when the chick hatches out.

The pre-Christian Saxons had a spring goddess called Eostre, whose feast was held on the Vernal Equinox, around 21 March. Her animal was the spring hare. Some believe that Ēostre was associated with eggs and hares, and the rebirth of the land in spring was symbolised by the egg. Ēostre is known from the writings of Bede Venerabilis, a seventh-century Benedictine monk. Bede describes the pagan worship of Ēostre among the Anglo-Saxons as having died out before he wrote about it. Bede's De temporum ratione attributes her name to the festival, but does not mention eggs at all.

Seriously, I've never dyed eggs before. Hell, half the time I make hard-boiled ones, they end up soft-boiled. And some of the eggs I have may or may not have baby chickens in them because they were given to me by a friend who raises bantams who live in mixed-gender bliss (and the eggs are half-sized and so cute!) but think how it might scar a little kid to find a boiled chick in her egg.

Well, at least I'm trying. Any tips for egg success?

I was watching a bunch of BSU (engineering?) students who had helped enhance a "terra torch." They were having a good ol' time.

And just to make sure no one got too trigger happy, one of these was standing by:

Either option I felt would have been amply useful to cure the issue of the chihuahua from down the block that is constantly running around and yapping at people. It stays out of range of my foot, but I have a feeling that 50 yards worth of flame would do the trick. Damn dog. Unfortunately for me, fortunately for the slipper-worthy canine, neither was available for loan.

It's time we talked, Kenny Loggins. I recently saw you on the Disney Channel doing something with a new Winnie the Pooh song. I get the whole House On Pooh Corner thing (okay, I don't). But back when you and Jim Messina did that song, it was a more innocent time...

...it was also a significantly younger time. I'm not saying anyone really knew what the hell you looked like under that beard, but I doubt it was like this.

I'm concerned. I think that perhaps you and Kenny Rogers have been seeing the same plastic surgeon. For example:

So fess up...is there some kind of one-off celebrity chop shop out there called "I Kut Kennys"?

So I've been somewhat addicted to Facebook for the last month. I keep in touch with a lot of my regular friends, and have some fun getting to know other acquaintances a little better. I also play a lot of Vampire Wars. *blush* (Totally let me know if you're playing so I can add you to my clan, 'kay?)

However.

I have also been "found" by a lot of the folks I went to high school with. I had a few stigmas following me around as a kid: one, I was a Jehovah's Witness and that set me apart from my peers in some significant ways (no dating, no dances, no sports, no holidays, etc.); two, my family was perceived by some to be rich, which wasn't actually true but we were comfortable; three, my dad had some rage issues that had caused him to become a spectacle at a few community events and some people didn't like him. As a result, I think some kids didn't like me, regardless of what my personality was like. By the time I graduated, I'd say I had made it to the ranks of fairly popular, but like everyone else, some damage had been done.

Back to Facebook. As I said, I have had contact with a bunch of people from those days. It's fairly incidental stuff, but I still find myself feeling a little left out sometimes. Is that ridonkulous, or what? I mean, if some people I haven't seen in 15 years get together and watch a kick-boxing event (which I hate), why should it make me feel like I'm back on the outside looking in? And if I figured out someone was an asshole 20 years ago, why should I expect that to have changed?

Clearly, this is something my counselor would call "an unresolved issue." Damned opportunities for personal growth...

(From the Idahoans for Fairness news release)

On the steps of Boise City Hall the lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender (LGBT) community will gather with friends, family and allies to rally on April 4th at 1pm. They will be sending a loud, clear message to lawmakers in protest of the February 20th vote that killed the Idaho Human Rights Act Amendment (IHRAA) for the third consecutive year.
The IHRAA would have prohibited discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation and gender identity in employment, housing, education and public accommodation for Idaho citizens.

It is time for Idaho to shed its long-standing stereotype as a state that tolerates hate, says rally coordinator, Jody May-Chang. This rally is the next step in a new campaign to educate citizens and lawmakers.”

It pains me that Idaho is so doggedly hanging on to hateful stereotypes and legalized discrimination like this. I wish that I could take Freya down there on Saturday, but we've got other obligations. I guess the best I can do is write letters and blog about it, for now. In the meantime, I'd like to send this wish out to fellow Idahoans--those who cannot see the light:

I'm sorry, Interwebz, but I don't have the energy for you tonight. A vampiric meeting has sucked all my energy out.

Blahhhhhhh.