Riding the Wurst, '08

How can we be so lucky two years in a row to have beautiful weather on a November day? Austin is known for its lovely weather, but we do get rain and strong winds and even the anomalous cold day. Or a really hot day in the 90s. Especially in November - just about anything is possible. Wednesday there were winds gusting in the 30 mph range, so I was a bit nervous about what Mother Nature would serve up for Saturday.

I needn't have worried. It was chilly-ish at the beginning but definitely manageable. There was a slight-to-moderate headwind that slowed me down a bit but otherwise, gorgeous. The rest stops were well stocked with bananas, pickles peanut butter pretzels, MoJo bars and cookies and not overly crowded. My luck wouldn't hold out when it came to documenting the day...I had counted on using my phone to take pictures but when it was finally warm enough to switch from my warm biking gloves into my fingerless (and therefore photograph-capable) gloves, the battery was dead.

The sausage was fabulous and the beer was icy cold. Sausage and beer never have tasted as good as they did after a 62 mile bike ride. The sauerkraut was divine! I even made it over to Wurstfest for some homemade potato chips (oh my God! I need to buy a deep fryer JUST so I can have homemade potato chips much, much more often) and an eyeful of lederhosen.

I missed out on lots of fun at home. Little A had his last soccer game against the much talked about Millenium team. They're hard core over there and it showed. The Dragon's winning streak was halted right quick but Little A still had a fun game. Except for those boys that pushed a lot. Then two birthday parties, back-to-back. Bubble Boy had his hands full doing Dad-duty all by himself. November weekends are crazy.

Top all that goodness off with a hotter than hot shower, some deliciously hot tea, a cozy blanket and a foot massage and lights out by 9:30 and it was a pretty darn great day.

It happened.

Challenges in healthcare, social security, and education.

Two wars and economic upheaval.

And yet.

I feel hopeful.

Media Blackout!

After weeks of obsession The Day has arrived, and in the way highly anticipated events tend to be, it's a letdown. Awareness of this phenomenon doesn't change the outcome but does makes it less emotionally disappointing. Had I done any of the things I had said I'd do today, such as help out at a phone bank, or help drive voters to the polls, or even sit around watching cable news all day eating all the kid's Halloween candy, I'd feel guiltily satisfied. Well, not guilty over the phone bank or driving voters, just eating all the candy.

And yet none of that happened today. Child-related responsibilities prevented me from doing any of those things and have kept me in a virtual media blackout for nigh on 48 hours. Other than a snippet here and there I've had no word on the latest polls, voter troubles, speech-related controversies, pundit predictions or Joe the Plumberisms. I did hear that Obama's grandmother had died and my heart broke that she did not live long enough to see the man she raised as her son win the presidency. I may be getting a bit ahead of myself with that statement, but whatever. Whether it ends up being true or not, I hope someone whispered in her ear that it was over and he had won. Every mother of a president (EVEN those for whom I have nothing but contempt) deserves to know that she raised a President.

The media blackout will end soon as I commence my Election Night activities. If you haven't voted. Go. Now. And do us good.

Wake me when it's over

How much more political news can I take? Rock-bottom is very near as I find myself sitting in my car for extended periods so I can geek out just a few more minutes listening to XMs POTUS '08. When I come home I rush through all my ridiculously petty responsibilities, like feeding my family - nothing seems quite so important as to trump the FUTURE OF THIS COUNTRY - or so it seems. With that pettiness out of the way I can sit down in front of my internet machine and read, watch news clips, read some more, scan headlines, watch a few more news clips, and on, and on, and on, and on. And yet I still miss big moments such as McCain's brain fart when trying to recall the specific Secretaries of State who have thrown their support his way.



I almost felt a little sorry for him there until I remembered he's running for PRESIDENT of the United States and I'm tired - so very tired - of listening to a President who comes across as a jerk at a tailgating party rather than leader of the free world. And seriously. He can't get by without taking and reading copious notes. Do we really want an Oval Office plastered in little yellow Post-its?

Someone needs to yank the needle out of my arm. Or just push the plunger down and wake me up when it's over. But only if it's good news.

Edited to add: I don't know what's up with the video. I have tried multiple codes and tried to track it down from the source, Meet the Press, and it seems that someone's showing McCain some love and preventing me from spreading this gaffe out there to all my many throngs of readers. A sign, perhaps? Naaah - just bad code.

Edited AGAIN to add: I guess blogger got itself figured out and the video is now working. Guess Someone is on my side after all.

What friends are for

It is so good to know I've got friends out there who've got my back. If not for KT this might have passed me by, unnoticed. And THAT, my friends, would have been a Very Bad Thing.

Now YOU can rest easy knowing that I'VE got YOUR back and you too can enjoy the brilliant genius of David Sedaris. Because you've either pondered the same question my writing hero explores in this article and will enjoy his analogy and anecdote or you are the subject of this article and need to read and consider it very strongly in order to justify your continued use of oxygen on this planet.

Just my way of spreading the wealth.

A heapin' dose of sanctimony

Don't you just love reading, listening, talking to people who think they know everything? There was a time when they used to irk me, and truth be told, sometimes they still do. I AM a living, breathing human being after all. But I think I have outgrown the tendency to let the Holier-Than-Thous get me down.

I have turned that frown upside down and NOW I get a big ol' hoot out of 'em.

Like today. Bubble Boy and I had a date to go Early Vote and try a new Mediterranean place in the 'hood. We so crazy! How liberal can you get? Add in some fair trade double hazelnut skim soy latte and we'd have had ourselves a perfect trifecta of leftist, anti-Americanism. But we didn't so it was just our normal liberal selves as we wrapped up our civic duty when Bubble Boy ran into an old colleague back from his Working For the Man days so we got to do a little catching up. Upon mentioning some of the projects he's working on, including some educational software stuff, this person made some kind of monumentally weird jump and proceeded to school us on the pitiful state of our public school system.

Not only are 'the public schools' (all of them - no exceptions) pathetically, utterly pitiful but she would never DARE to THINK to POSSIBLY send HER children to a PUBLIC school! NEVER! Ugh! I mean, seriously? CAN you IMAGINE?

Uh. Yeah. Can imagine. Since we do. How could we possibly, you ask? Isn't it obvious? Must be that we don't love our children as much as she WOULD love hers.

That is IF she had any. Or was ever going to have any. Or even WANTS children. But since she never has and never will she has subsequently declared herself EXPERT on all things child-related as only someone who has never HAD children can.

Oh yes, these self-declared child-raising experts can talk the talk and even walk the walk for a while when practicing with a friend or relative's child. The breakdown in their thought processes doesn't start until after a few consecutive days with the child. Once the kid is done with the trying to impress and seeking the positive attention. Maybe they're a little tired and no longer willing to allow themselves to be distracted from whatever their mission happens to be (GIVE ME JUICE! NO! I WANT IT NOOOOWW! NO! NO! STOP! AAARRUUGH!!! etc...). It's a little bootcamp of sorts for the Non-Parent-Know-It-All. And oh so much fun to watch.

So she provided BB and I with fun conversation over our baba ganoush and tabouleh. Thank you Sanctimonious Lady!

What is a decade?

Ten years, right? 3,650 days. A long time and yet, not a long time at all. Surely the first ten years of my life crept by at a glacial pace. The next ten didn't seem much quicker, maybe even stalled a bit there between 14 and 16 as I anxiously awaited the freedom that was magically waiting for me when I turned 16 (fooled again!).

The third decade moved along at a fairly slowish, steady pace for the first half and began accelerating at that mid-point range. College was over, some life experiences were under my belt and life was chugging along like a train finally getting up to speed. Then along came Big E and someone cut the brake lines.

Now life is more like that bus from Speed, where Sandra Bullock can't let the bus get below 50 mph or the bomb the crazy man installed on the bus will blow up the bus and everyone on the bus, including Keanu Reeves! I am driving that bus but there is no bomb. I'm just powerless to stop this relentless acceleration of time as we throttle full speed down this road.

So, yeah. Big E turned ten last weekend. I think having a child who is turning ten forces one to become momentarily philosophical. Something about TEN. A decade. A tenth of a century. I'm guessing there will also be a similar moment of introspection at thirteen, maybe sixteen and definitely eighteen. Then there's twenty when the 'teens' are over to cause one to look back and reflect on how that could possibly be.

But ten. Double digits. Not just a big kid but bordering on becoming a much bigger kid and seeing glimpses, tiny little flickers, of not being a kid at all but a young woman. How can there be these little peeks of the person she is going to be when she was only last week a warm, soft, sweet-smelling infant learning to sit, an enthusiastic toddler learning to talk, walk, and run, an always smiling preschooler playing Polly Pockets or plastering the walls with her abundant artwork, a kindergartener who kicked the backs of the car seats when I failed to pick her up with a juice box at the ready, a child anticipating Halloween starting in July, a slightly bigger child with slightly bigger opinions, and then a kid who not only has those bigger opinions but articulates them with sophistication and clarity that causes me to stay on my toes - or else.

And she's almost as tall as I am.

Yep. Time to put on the brakes. I wish.

I am Chicken Little

Every time I sit down at my little silver laptop that links me to the Wide, Wondrous World where heretofore I found hours of entertainment and news, or turn on the radio I am overcome by the nearly uncontrollable urge to run down the street screaming "The sky is falling! The sky is falling!" I guess you could say my personal consumer confidence level is in the sewer. Thank goodness we don't have TV.


Since I really don't want to spread more panic than is already sweeping across the world I guess I'll settle for sticking my fingers in my ears while I sing "Lalalalalala!!!".

That's much better.

Quite a legacy

This has been around a while but seems even more relevant given the last couple of weeks...I guess it ain't over 'til it's over!


Bush Tours America To Survey Damage Caused By His Disastrous Presidency

Blue Bell

Not sure what Pierre Cardin was going for with this number. My first thought was it must be a new hybrid of blue pear and they're adding it to a new designer line-up for Fruit of the Loom. Then I thought what a practical combination of a warm and cozy shawl and a hooded ski jacket. But what is that little stem on top? An antenna? Some teletubby inspiration?