CHEZ BIG J

Give Us This Day Our Daily Bread

2009-09-14T16:37:00.007-06:00

I don't have a minute to compose my thoughts but I cannot let the death of Norman Borlaug go unmentioned here. The present political climate demonstrates to me how desperate our society is for modern heroes: men of peace, honor and action. Borlaug was one such man. His intelligence and passion changed the world. Literally. Here's a well-done obituary by Justin Gillis. Tell your kids about him.

I Got Your Oedipus Complex Right Here

2009-06-29T19:02:00.010-06:00

Like most little girls, my daughters went through the princess stage. They would dress up in fluffy gowns, drench themselves in costume jewelry, don long white gloves, brush glitter on their cheeks and prance around the house speaking to me in a surprisingly accurate British accent. I dutifully fetched them tea and ladyfingers, tossed the rubbish at party's end, formally announced ballroom entrances and fed the royal steed. Yet, I was never overly-charmed by this pretend play. (It's possible I never really embraced princess-play because, on it's face, it is not pretend. Keith and I cook, clean, entertain, transport and basically grant their every wish, so what is it about princess life that my children envy?) I was much more enthusiastic when the girls began dressing up and pretending to be veterinarians, teachers, cowgirls, pilots, even performers. It is clear to me that I prefer they dress up as someone with a skill or function, even if they are pretending to be Hannah-Swift-Pickler. And even today when I see little girls twirling down the aisle at the grocery store or skipping through the park wearing their pink princess dress-ups, I am not enchanted.

But my son! This is where my negative attitude regarding gender-stereotypical play turns on itself. Over the past few months Eli has amassed a collection of dress-up clothes including a knight, policeman, fireman, Batman, Superman, and cowboy. Whenever he dresses up and begins role-playing, I am overwhelmed with adoration. My heart leaps into my throat every time Eli, sword and shield in hand, marches in the room to announce he has come to save me from the dragon. I stop whatever I am doing and merrily let him whisk me away to safety (which is usually the cave under the kitchen table). I absolutely love it when the Dark Knight tells me he will "pwotect" me. And despite the fact that our Superman is scared to death of spiders, he will stand between any spider and me, repeating over and over that he is "super-super-strong" and I should not be frightened. I desperately want to freeze for eternity the vision of Eli darting through the house, black cape flowing, various tools tucked into his belt, announcing that he will protect us from villains old and new. Even as I write, the picture of him catches my breath in my throat. I adore this make-believe role playing. I love the heroic instinct and I relish every moment watching Eli pretend to be gallant, brave, and strong.

So, why is princess play tedious to me while knight-in-shining armor trips my heart? Perhaps because imagining princess characteristics in teens or adults is repulsive--elitist, entitled, spoiled. Even with a great British accent, it is unsavory. Yet, the heroic attributes of a knight or superhero are exactly what I want to teach my son about manhood--strength, loyalty, courage. These are appealing attributes not only in make-believe.

Then again, I might still be playing princess myself and simply enjoying the thought of being rescued by my little knight!

Good Times at the Track

2009-05-18T19:09:00.005-06:00

Inspired by Keith's phenomenal weekend performance (1:37:16 half-marathon, y'all!) I sashayed up to the USU track for my regular Monday speed workout. The field showed obvious remnants of a weekend track meet: fresh sand in the pits, neatly stacked hurdles, blue foam fingers littering the bleachers... and along the north end there was a uniform row of shiny port-a-lets conveniently placed for the collegiate athletes. I jogged a pleasant warm-up mile and could sense the lingering excitement and energy of a recent event. I also relished in the hot sun beating down on me. Happily I had the track all to myself. (Once I start the speed work, I feel much less conspicuous dry-heaving over the steeple-chase bar if no one else is around to witness.)

I was about half way through my workout when a large truck towing a flatbed trailer pulled into the gate and lumbered toward the northern end of the track. As I rounded the bend I read the signature: Nature's Call--We "go" wherever you "go." Due to intent focus on my watch and a lack of oxygen, it didn't dawn on me until the smell smacked me. I was sprinting my guts out and sucking wind while these port-a-lets were being hoisted up on the flatbed and their inner-contents vacuumed into a truck bed tank. The inner-contents being "nervous athlete output" that had stewed and baked in the ground for the last 72 hours. I didn't know what to do. I was already in the middle of my carefully-designed workout and I didn't want to cut it short. But I was sprinting through the most wretched, disgusting, foul, stench I had ever encountered. (And remember, I changed Eli's diapers for nearly two years!) So, I ran my remaining 1200, 800 and 400 meters in the fashion of a swimmer; I would take a gigantic, lung-filled-to-capacity, breath and haul it as hard and fast as I could without inhaling again. And wouldn't you know it, my times were actually my fastest yet. But that is not to say it was worth it. I have brushed my teeth twice, shampooed my hair three times and I may have to burn my running tank.

(If you think this post is even remotely funny, which I do not, you will enjoy this witty British film. I'm looking at you, Sherri!)

And although I do not like to use my blog as a medium for publicly expressing my love or for bragging about my family (well, flagrant bragging), I simply cannot miss this opportunity to tell Keith how proud I am of him. You spanked the Ogden half and I couldn't be more awed by your hard work, your resolute mind, and your gorgeous legs. Bien fait, mon cheri!

Meeting John Calvin's Approval

2009-05-03T18:18:00.003-06:00

Driving home from church meeting today Eli said, "May I go play with Khyson?" I said, "No, not today." Eli proudly acknowledged, "Oh yea, Sundays are not for fun."

A Video Is Worth A Million Bajillion Words

2009-05-02T13:27:00.010-06:00

I'll let the innumeracy thing rest after this but you have got to see these two clips. They are much clearer than anything I wrote below.

Enjoy!

How Many Millions are in a Trillion? from Econ4U on Vimeo.

Power to the Proletariat

2009-04-26T23:04:00.007-06:00

Oh, Keith is not going to like that title.

I just listened to a university statistics professor give a brilliant lecture on innumeracy in the United States and now I’m all fired up. He talked about Americans inability to comprehend large numbers, even in ordinary life settings. One of his examples was salary discrepancies. We all know some careers make a lot of money and we understand other job choices reap smaller financial reward. Yet, have you ever crunched the numbers and considered how far apart these numbers really are? Take professional athletes for example. According to Sports Illustrated “The Fortunate 50”,Tiger Woods earned $128,000,000 in 2008. Contrast that with numbers from the Chronicle of Higher Education which reports that the average associate professor at a baccalaureate university earns $87,000 per year. What do those few extra zeros really mean? It means that the average college professor would have to work 1,471 years to earn what Tiger Woods earned in one year. One thousand, four hundred, seventy-one years! Now I concede that Tiger Woods is a unique situation in professional sports. He earns more than twice that of the #2 ranked top-earning athlete (Phil Mickelson, by the way). So, let’s drop down a few notches to the #6 earning athlete, Alex Rodriguez. A Rod earned $35,000,000 in 2008. Your average medical oncologist earnings max out at an average of $455,000 per year. So today, in this country, A Rod will earn in one year what it takes a doctor fighting cancer 77 years to earn. It is feasible that an oncologist would work his entire life and not earn what Rodriguez earned in 2008 alone. And how about public school teachers? In Utah, the average school teacher with a master’s degree earns $32,000 per year (let's all groan together). Dale Earnhardt Jr earned $27,000,000. A Utah school teacher would have to work 844 years to earn Junior’s 2008 paycheck. To review:

Tiger Woods 1 year earning = University professor 1,471 years work
Alex Rodriguez 1 year earning = Medical oncologist 77 years work
Dale Earnhardt Jr 1 year earning = Utah school teacher 844 years work

Happily pro-athletes are not the only benefactors of our pay-scale lunacy. Forbes.com ranks highest paid CEOs. Mark Papa of EOG Resources was compensated $90,000,000 in 2008. It would take your average lawyer 796 years to achieve that single amount, an oncologist, 198 years.

Now I fully support the concept of giving the people what they want and charging what you can for it. I understand that NASCAR, the Superbowl, and the World Series are part of what makes America great. But I wonder if the dude screaming insults at Jeff Gordon realizes just how much more money that boy pulls than the local EMT or cancer researcher. Do we really think that Ben Roethlisberger should earn $25,000,000 in one year when your city fireman, who would risk his life for you, earns roughly $50,000. (It will take the fireman 500 years to earn $25,000,000.) As a people, we gotta get our priorities back in order.

Another example of innumeracy involves wealthy philanthropists.

Take the Walton family (founders and owners of Walmart) for example. They have received accolades for contributing over $1,400,000,000 (that's 1.4 billion dollars!) to various educational charities between 2003-2007. This sounds impressive, worthy of salutations, glory, laud and honor until you consider their actual net worth of $82,500,000,000 (that's 82.5 billion dollars!). In reality, their donation of 1.4 million dollars is less than 2% of their net worth. That is equivalent to the city fireman donating $825 to charity over the course of 4 years, or $206 per year. Not sure a parade is warranted at 2% contribution levels.

Next time I hear sports commentators gushing over a charitable act by LeBron James ($40,000,000 per annum) or some CNN reporter praising Ray Irani of Occidental Petroleum ($223,000,000 in 2009) for building a school in Beirut, I’m going to throw my shoe at the television set. Numerically speaking, they are being applauded for dropping a nickel in the March of Dimes canister.

Standards of Measurement

2009-03-07T15:52:00.003-07:00

This afternoon Eli and I were playing doctor. (I received a number of "shocks" for my bandaged foot. He simply cannot retain the term "shot.") But the most insightful part was when Eli took my temperature and announced, "Your temperature is eight miles per week."

It's possible Keith and I are officially runners.

What Happened Here?

2009-03-03T23:07:00.004-07:00

Sunday morning I am walking through the 'Shoppes of Paradise Key' in Destin, Florida with my Auburn running friends. We are meandering in and out of stores: Coach Factory, Williams-Sonoma, Kenneth Cole NY, and my personal favorite, the Godiva Chocolatier. As our group strolls past the Abercrombie & Fitch storefront I glance at the reflection in the tall display windows and notice an elderly woman is walking amidst our group. She's wearing a velvet lounge suit, turquoise turtle neck, black Chaco sandals, white cotton socks, a tight little bun and has a slight limp. I take a couple more steps before it dawns on me--THAT WAS MY REFLECTION IN THE WINDOW. What happened here?

Abercrombie & Fitch minus 4h It's 7am and my friends and I are huddled together trying to conserve heat at the starting line of the Seaside Florida Half-Marathon. I flew all the way from wintry northern Utah to participate in this beach-side event, happily expecting to return home with a little tan and three months worth of vitamin D. Instead I was blasted with temperatures in the 30s accompanied by winds up to 35 miles per hour. Before the race I was scrounging around the rental house for gloves, ear muffs, and something, anything, to shield my face from the bitter cold. (Where's Global Warming when you need it?) Despite the biting cold and hurricane warnings, my friends and I decided to run the race. And so, the first two hours of my morning were spent freezing my buns off while running a distance I had not adequately trained for. (My trip to Florida was really about the vitamin D.)

Abercrombie & Fitch minus 2h It's 9am and I just finished the half-marathon. I am so cold and tired that I decide to abandon my running team for a much needed warm shower. I shuffle the half mile back to our rental house and clumsily strip off my many layers of running clothes. My fingers are still frozen stiff so this is not easy. My legs are exhausted, my lips are blue, and I can't stop my teeth from chattering. I turn on the shower and as soon as I see steam rising from behind the glass, I hop in. The rest is something of a blur because I'm not good with blood but somehow the glass door slips out of the track and the door falls into the tub. With frozen and slippery-wet hands I somehow manage to catch the shower door, but only in time to watch the other sliding door follow suit and crash sideways into the tub. The top corner slices an inch deep into the drywall and the bottom corner slams down onto the top of my foot. I promptly rid my hands of door number one and gently dislodge the other door from the wall and my foot. I look over at the huge gouge in the wall and then down at the gaping slice in the top of my foot and realize I'm in serious trouble. We are not going to get our security deposit back! Then, as the blood begins to leak out of my foot, I remember that I am not good with blood. I begin to feel lightheaded and I can tell I'm going to pass out; pass out in a tub already full of glass doors and blood. I woozily scramble over the side of the tub and try to get my wits about me. ...I won't go into any more detail because all it does is humiliate me more, but in a nutshell, I was exhausted, cold, wet, bleeding profusely and very much not dressed.

Abercrombie & Fitch minus 1h Luckily for me, two of my running friends are nurses and when they entered the rental house they answered my pitiful cry; "I've fallen and I can't get up." (Sticking with the old lady motif here.) I was adequately bandaged and I feebly hobbled into my room so I could get some warm clothes on. Because I was in Florida! my suitcase was full of brightly colored shorts, capris, T-shirts and sandals. I had been warned that the beach cooled down considerably at night so at last minute I had thrown in a turtle neck and lounge suit. I knew the outfit didn't suit me but I figured I'd only be wearing it at night, when it was dark. I was still bone-cold from the race so I put on the turtle neck and lounge suit along with some thick white cotton socks. Because I still felt quite weak I did not feel inclined to balance on one foot in front of a mirror in order to blow out and curl my hair. So, I twisted it up into an easy bun.

Abercrombie & Fitch minus 30 mins Despite my bloody, swollen, throbbing foot, I did not want to miss out on a social outing with my friends (I am who I am) so a few minutes later when everyone decided it would be fun to go peruse the shops in Destin, I grabbed my Chacos, loosened the straps as far as I could and limped out to the car. It never occurred to me to glance in a mirror and evaluate my overall appearance. In hind sight...

Abercrombie and Fitch Once I realized that the old lady in the reflection was me, I started to laugh. I casually joked to my running companions that I looked like an old lady. No one contradicted me. They simply smiled and said, "You've had a rough morning." Needless to say, that took the chuckle right out of me.

I brought home my Chacos. The remainder of that outfit was left in a dumpster behind our Seaside rental property. It really was a rough morning.

Bug Tag

2009-01-28T16:06:00.004-07:00

I've been tagged and I'm always looking for an excuse to complain so here you go:

Ten Things that Bug Me:

(In a particular order)

(1) Sniffing Dogs: why do pet owners let their dogs romp up to complete strangers and sniff their crotch. Please, someone, tell me why this is acceptable in our culture. It's gross and rude and invasive. Some of you are thinking, "but all dogs sniff, it's what they do." Not so! My neighbor's dog never sniffs and he checks me out daily. Good dog, Jeffrey.
(2) Bluetooth Phones: unless you're securing the premises for Obama's pending arrival or being talked through an emergency tracheotomy, I'm betting the conversation can wait. People walking around shouting one side of a conversation (and always a boring one, at that) into a crowd of people is just inappropriate social behavior. So annoying!
(3) The Five Day Workweek: if we eliminate Facebook and Youtube from office computers, don't you think we could get the national work week down to four days.
(4) Brushing the Kids Teeth: too much pressure to do it just as the dentist advises. It makes me anxious every night.
(5) Logan Radio: I don't do Country so I'm stuck with a Raffi cd or silence. I choose silence.
(6) Facebook: it's out of control at my house. And none of my old boyfriends will chat with me.
(7) Eli Picking His Nose: someone tell me how to make it stop.
(8) Mornings: since when does elementary school have to start so dang early? We're trying to stay up until 3 AM over here.
(9) Not-My-Problem Parents: moms who honestly expect public school to teach, mold, and inspire their children. Those over-worked and underpaid teachers are responsible for the 3 R's, folks, and that's it. The rest is on you.
(10) Britney Spears New Album: haven't heard it yet. Hate it!

On this happy note, I tag Keith, Brittney, Jandee, Dustin and the other Big J. Have at it!

MP3 Killed the Radio Star

2009-01-23T18:53:00.003-07:00

I figured you were dying to know which podcasts I referenced in the last blog list so, just for you, another list... with bullets!

Slate Political Gabfest The hosting trio could not be more liberal (they are socialist, really) but I love to hear what John Dickerson, David Plotz and Emily Bazelon have to say about current political issues. They provide me an educated peek into what the "other side" is thinking and I believe they are truly trying to understand the Republican/Democrat debate. Despite our differing views on government and the players therein, I benefit from their assessments. Besides, their on air banter really makes me laugh.

Intelligence Squared Don't be turned off by its hyper-pretentious name. Intelligence Squared is a series of Oxford-style debates which are consistently witty, provocative and informative. Their stated purpose is to "raise the level of public discourse on our most challenging issues." Each debate features speakers who are irrefutably the most authoritative and informed advocates for both sides of each issue. I learn something new every time and frequently find my opinions challenged, if not changed altogether. This forum gives me the chance to hear arguments from some of the smartest people on the planet.

This American Life The old and ever popular NPR broadcast which provides a glimpse into the everyday life of average Americans. Over time it maintains a relatively good balance between the comedic and the solemn elements of life in the United States. This fall they spent a great deal of airtime trying to explain and demystify the economic crisis for us laypeople. I learned a great deal about Wall Street (which I have promptly forgotten). And I must confess, for more than a few months, I harbored an innocent crush on Ira Glass. He's just so sweet and squeaky, and genuinely shocked and confused by injustice. On air you can hear he wants to be objective, even tough at times, but in the end, his soft melt-away inside gives him away. Sweet Ira.

Common Sense with Dan Carlin Dan is the perfect follow-up to Ira Glass. He's loud, fast-talking, and brutally funny. He's a pragmatist with a candid speech pattern that is sometimes painful but mostly refreshing. He looks at the events shaping our world through a lens unique to him due to his strong history background. His podcasts are drenched in historical references and by historical, I mean references back to Constantine, Charlemagne, and Alexander the Great. Dan knows his world history and he uses it to critique American politics in a way that I've never considered before. But, perhaps what I appreciate most about Dan is his commitment to providing solutions and not just complaints. So many political pundits critique and whine and gripe but never present a viable solution. Dan comes up with the most brilliant solutions to cure many of our modern ills. Wish he were broadcasting from the White House rather than the airport runway in Oregon.

I also listen to an assortment of scientific podcasts (Science Talk, How Stuff Works, This Week in Science) but only because Keith generously screens them and pulls the ones he knows I will find intriguing. I'm not that interested in astronomical advancements or multivariable calculus but when they start talking about hybrid cars 0r memory-enhancing drugs, I'm all ears.

Okay, now it's time to reciprocate. I have another marathon scheduled for fall 2009 so if you have any podcast suggestions, I'd love a few new running companions.
Cheers!

Some Stuff I Wasn't Paid to Endorse

2009-01-18T22:04:00.019-07:00

2008 brought so many great things that I'm recording a list of my favorite discoveries (or rediscoveries) below:

30 Rock I have been a fan of Tina Fey ever since she began co-hosting Weekend Update with Jimmy Fallon on SNL years ago. But she has taken her talent for brilliant writing and comedic acting to a new level with 30 Rock. And you'd be hard-pressed to find a person more averse to Alec Baldwin than me, but his portrayal of Jack Donaghy is, without doubt, the funniest depiction of a rich, elitist, capitalist that I have ever seen. I look forward to this show every week.
The New Adventures of Old Christine I love Julia Louis-Dreyfus. Love her so much I faithfully tuned in to "Watching Ellie" (2002) despite its weak plot and redundant story line. But Julia has nailed it this time in New Adventures; I smile just thinking about it. Every week she provides lines like, "Racist? Racist? I'm not a racist. I drive a Prius for Heaven's sake!" And as if Julia's comedy wasn't enough, Wanda Sykes co-stars and can match her laugh for laugh.
Lime I've always been a lemon zest kind of girl. This year, for reasons I don't recall, I started using lime where I would normally use lemons, and the change is delightful!
Long Hair I grew up associating long hair on men with chewing tobacco and crude language. I hung to that association until July when I looked at my husband and realized it had been six months since I trimmed his hair, and he looked pretty, pretty, pretty good (to be said in the fashion of Larry David on "Curb Your Enthusiasm"). We decided to give it another few months, just to see if his language digressed or his hankering for chew increased and I was pleasantly surprised to find neither occurred. Not only that, he looked even cuter three months later. So, here I sit, 15 years too late to appreciate Brad Pitt's flowing locks in Legends of the Fall. I have found Keith's new look so winsome that I am now letting Eli's hair grow.
Trail Running Last spring the other Big J introduced me to the most beautiful and challenging trail runs I've ever traversed. From April till November I ran up Logan Canyon at least twice a week and bemoaned every city-paved run in between. There is nothing quite as exhilarating as climbing hills at top speed and then exploding down the other side. And, I have never been one to stop needlessly during a run but this summer there were runs when the sun hit the canyon below or the leaves were colored just so that I had to stop and take in the vision of it all. Running trails has become, for me, a spiritual experience as much as a physical one. If not for the Logan River, Green Canyon and Crimson Trails, I would never have survived those long summer miles without my Auburn crew.
Podcasts As just mentioned, I left my beloved running partners in Auburn so I had to make new friends. In the likeness of a young child with "imaginary friends," my new running partners are radio talk show hosts and podcast authors. It's pathetic, really, but I love my podcasts. I love them so much I think I will dedicate a separate blog post to them in a minute.
Blogging Enough said.
Utah Culture I'm not going to lie to you; I was anxious about moving back to Utah. After ten years east of the Rockies, I was not quite ready to relocate to my home state. Somehow I had envisioned that Utah=Mormons=Monotony. That I, being a Mormon myself, would be surrounded by people just like me and that would be most tiresome. Turns out, I was wrong. Providence is a fantastic little town. It's true, LDS culture dominates but how can I complain when the domineering philosophy promotes self-reliance, honesty, service, health and, if you look for it, humor. I am continually impressed by how skilled and talented the folks are around here--music, art, athletics, cooking, carpentry, gardening, landscaping and homemaking. Now this is not to say I don't roll my eyes from time to time at the surprising assumptions some locals make, but all in all, this is an excellent town and I think I'm gonna like it here. (As long as I'm discussing LDS culture, I might note that another of my favorite discoveries for 2008 is the Sons of Provo soundtrack. That is what makes the outermost LDS culture palpable--self deprecation and mockery. Thanks, Curt!)

And, last, but certainly not least,

Keith It's true, in the last year Keith has stomped me at racquetball, tennis, chess, Trivial Pursuit, and all-you-can-eat-steak challenges, but aside from those few things, he has played the perfect husband. I married this boy for a whole host of reasons that, in hindsight, were relatively shallow and rash. (He was just so dang cute!) But every year since I have come to adore and appreciate him more. Not one of the aforementioned discoveries would have been exciting without him. (Except maybe the lime.) For the twelfth year in a row, Keith is what made 2008 truly great!

Deus Caritas Est

2009-01-17T00:03:00.010-07:00

Earlier this month Michal was baptized as a member of our church. We decided it would be extra special to travel to SLC so she could be baptized with her cousin, who had also decided to be baptized. While sitting quietly on the pew, Michal leaned over to me and whispered, "You know, it's weird to think that I rode down to Salt Lake as Michal Gibson but I'll drive home a Christian." For her, this symbolic plunge will change who she is, how she views the world, and how she will behave toward other people. And this, for the rest of her life. Wednesday she told me, "I can feel the Holy Ghost telling me to share with Eli, " and she said today, "Now that I'm baptized, I'm trying not to get mad at Sam." Michal is becoming a better person; she's trying harder to be Christ-like.

How can I not contrast this with the week's reports of escalating violence in the middle east. I haven't read the Qur'an and I'm no expert on the Torah, (I have enough knowledge of the Old Testament to be sympathetic, though not benign to the subject matter) but I know that as canonized religious texts, they both claim to lead souls to God/Allah. Even as such, they remain subject to individual interpretation. Beautifully and essentially so. How is it that the loudest voices and the strongest arms interpret the message to be one of violence and death? Why don't the consummate followers of the Qur'an and Torah stand up to these manipulators of faith? No book of a Heavenly source would inspire a mother to strap a bomb to her 12-year-old son and send him out to blow up a children's school bus. Even if you want to discount religiosity in this, secular sensibility and human decency dictate killing one's child is horrific.

I know this post is a juvenile over-simplification of the middle eastern conflict. But I could not resist making note of the flagrant juxtaposition between my daughter's new sense of faith, which propels her to love and serve, and another child's new sense of faith, which propels hand grenades.

Entropa

2009-01-16T22:41:00.004-07:00

When I found this little nugget of news, I immediately called dibs before Keith could blog about it. There is a fantastic story going around about an "art hoax" in Europe. The European Union received a huge new mosaic to be placed outside the European Council Building in Brussels, where EU leaders hold their summits. The massive mosaic was unveiled this week and, it turns out, the whole thing is a gigantic joke on the countries of the EU. They've already installed this thing so it's up there (for now, anyway).

The mosaic was intended to be a tribute to the countries in the EU. It was created by Czech artist, David Cerny, and here's how audacious this dude is:

Bulgaria is depicted as a rudimentary toilet.
France is emblazened with the word GREVE! (French for strike), a reference to its frequent industrial disputes.
Germany is a series of crisp highways in the shape of a swastika.
Luxembourg is represented as a lump of gold, on sale to the highest bidder.
Lithuanians are urinating on Russia.

So, at the ceremonial unveiling, what did Cerny have to say? "We knew the truth would come out. But before that we wanted to find out if Europe was able to laugh at itself." I can't speak for Europe, but I'm dying of laughter over here. It's painfully rare to find an artist with a good sense of humor. Well, Cerny may not be so much funny as he is sardonic. Still I appreciate this refreshingly comical tidbit from the other side of the ocean, you know, the side with the Louvre.

You can see pictures and read more about the mosaic here.

Governor Paterson's New BFF

2008-12-20T18:23:00.007-07:00

To quote my favorite three-year-old neighbor, "What the ?" I just learned today that New York Governor David Paterson plans to appoint Caroline Kennedy to the NY Senate seat currently occupied by Secretary of State-designate Hillary Clinton. Caroline Kennedy! That's right, a woman whose credentials and qualifications can be summed up in one word: Kennedy. Caroline is about as qualified for this position as I am. She is a professional fundraiser and she is darn good at it. Her work on non-profit organizations has drawn millions in revenue. She helped raise over $65 million dollars for the New York City public schools alone. Her name is power and she knows how to wield it. However admirable her volunteer work is, it's ridiculous to say this qualifies her for appointment to the Senate. And so here we sit, twenty minutes after Sarah Palin was savagely beaten down and exposed as unqualified to run for national office, only to witness another absurdly unqualified woman, not be put up for vote, but instead, appointed to one of the most powerful positions in the land. Our citizenship met Sarah Palin, judged her weak, and voted accordingly. At least she could boast of being a successful governor! Caroline has nothing but her rich heritage and yet, she'll be 1 of 100 senators deciding the fate of our nation during this crucial moment in time. Ludicrous!

So, why would Patterson make such a preposterous appointment when there are countless elected public servants in the state of New York who actually have merit and ideas to contribute to the Senate? (By the way, everyone is sentient to the patronizing stance that it must be a woman who replaces Sen. Clinton. Offensive to the nth degree!) Well, see above paragraph. Patterson is purchasing Caroline Kennedy's fundraising potential and will no doubt cash in his premium two years from now when he runs for re-election. Caroline will dutifully make the phone calls and cheerfully host the dinners to garner millions of dollars for Patterson (and other Democratic incumbents). Because the exchange of goods will not actually occur until 2010, Patterson will get away with this outrageous mockery of serving the public good.

And to think that Illinois Governor Rod Blagojevich will be sitting alone at the defense table. Patterson should be right next to him. The arrogance of these men, to think they can put their personal interest above that of the state's is, as Dan Carlin so aptly argued, treasonous. How do these people get elected? Wait, come to think of it, Paterson was not elected governor, but instead took office in the wake of the Governor Spitzer scandal. The people of New York are actually three steps away from selecting Hillary Clinton's replacement. In light of that, wouldn't it be all the more prudent for Paterson to appoint a New York state senator whom the people have elected at some level, showing some civic trust and endorsement? Democracy is wasted on those who are too indolent to elect respectable leaders. Shame!

Buster & Lucille

2008-12-18T17:03:00.007-07:00

Since his entrance into this world, Eli has been acutely aware of his raiment. He cried all the way home from the hospital and I have since decided that it was because he did not care for the particular color of his receiving blanket. As soon as he was physically able, he began to dress himself and his primary language skills were honed as he artfully described what he would and would not wear. For example, last spring I pulled out a pair of brightly colored short pants. Eli took one look at them and said, "No thanks. Those look like a clown." I looked at the shorts again, and realized, he was absolutely correct. (Yet, to my recollection, he has never actually seen a clown.)

Well, Eli's fastidious attitude took a hilarious turn this last summer. One morning he decided, from that day forth, he would dress like me. And so he would wait until I dressed for the day and then he would go through his drawers to find a matching outfit. If I wore jeans, he wore jeans; when I wore cargo pants, he wore cargo pants. White shirt-white shirt, running shoes-running shoes, belt-belt. Color, pockets, buttons and length had to be the same. (I should mention how shocked I was to discover the similarities in our wardrobe. My entire collection consists of various shades of blue, white, gray, tan, and brown. It was frighteningly easy for Eli to "match" me 99% of the time.) Eventually Eli was calling out to me from his bedroom, "Are we wearing blue shorts?" and "Are we wearing our sandals today?" On the rare occasion I had to dress like a woman (rare, indeed!), Eli would sob and beg me to change into something he could match. The hardest day of the week, apparel-wise, was Sunday. For three or four weeks in a row, Eli pleaded with me not to wear a skirt but instead to wear brown pants like him. Those Sundays we left for church with poor Eli sulking in the back seat. He acted as though I had broken some filial pact and betrayed our beautiful dress-code. And so, you can only imagine his delight when last Sunday I pulled out a sweater that is merely a blacker, larger version of one of his church sweaters. He sang songs all the way to church and proudly sat on my lap the entire meeting. 'Tis indeed a magical time of year when even on Sunday we get to "match."

Did Paul Revere Really Make the Midnight Ride?

2008-12-03T01:09:00.008-07:00

The girls and I were enjoying a rather smart and patriotic discussion about the first Thanksgiving and I was pleased to see they are getting old enough to grasp the significance of this national holiday. As we talked I could see they were beginning to better comprehend the sacrifice and strength of those brave passengers on the Mayflower. We talked about that first harsh winter in Plymouth, how one-half of the company died, dropping the numbers from 102 to 53 and yet, come spring, not one of the remaining pilgrims chose to return to England. What a valiant and hearty group. Michal asked what sickness had killed so many and I admitted I wasn't sure but it was likely some type of pneumonia or tuberculosis. And then Sam piped up, "No, it wasn't pneumonia. It was small pox. And we gave it to them on purpose!"

Needless to say, the beauty of the moment was shattered and I had the strained pleasure of clarifying Sam's comment. (I am still concerned by her use of the word "we.") Anyway, a few short hours later, my precious, not-so-innocent, daughters and I sat down to enjoy a lovely turkey dinner having just discussed (ever so lightly) the ugliest and darkest chapter of this nation's history. Ah, parenthood.

This begs the question, how does my six-year-old know about small pox? (And it's application as an agent of biological warfare in the New World.) Next thing she'll be telling us George Washington never chopped down his father's cherry tree and Lincoln did not walk ten miles to return three pennies. History is getting frightfully honest at the elementary school level. One thing is sure, whoever told Sam about small pox better not step on the wonderment that is Santa Claus.

Womyn!

2008-11-22T14:14:00.004-07:00

While listening to Slate Magazine Daily Podcast, I was tipped off to this article by Rebecca Traister in Salon magazine and it has me tickled to the point of giddy laughter. Feminists wholeheartedly supported the Obama/Biden ticket (obviously Sarah Palin's XX was trumped by her pro-life stance. Don't let the "W" in NOW mislead you, they support one type of woman, not all women.) And now I am having an absolute ball watching the subsequent hand-wringing as staunch feminists observe Michelle Obama morph from a high powered, strong, career woman into America's "First Mom."

(Before continuing, I'd like to clarify that I think the First Lady is a non-issue. I had not even glanced into Michelle's profile until I started reading this chorus of frustrated female journalists. Consequently, I checked out Michelle's vita, and let me just say, I was blown away. This woman is amazing! Her personal, professional, academic, civic and parenting lives impress me beyond words. She is indeed a woman of conviction and action and she has my utmost respect.)

As Michelle's husband ascends to the oval office, she must, by some feministic law, fall back to 'second fiddle.' Because of Barack's success, in the words of Traister, Michelle has begun to "lose her own private, very successful, very high-profile and very independent identity" and is instead becoming an "extension of her husband." In More magazine, Geraldine Brooks writes that watching Michelle is a "depressingly retrograde narrative of stifling gender roles and frustrating trade-offs... it is her husband's career, his choices that have shaped her life in the last decade." So now, this powerful, strong, intelligent and successful woman has come to stand in more prominently than anyone could have imagined for the shortcomings of feminism. Why? Because she is leaving her influential job as a lawyer at the University of Chicago Hospitals to follow her husband to Washington. And more egregious, to play mommy to her two young daughters. They want to define Michelle as a hard-working, prosperous career woman. Michelle is stepping up to take on the role of wife and mother.

Michelle's interviews of late have shifted from policy initiatives and international relations to which DC schools she's considering for her children. There is less reference to her as Barack's "closest advisor" (his terms) and now she finds herself assigned the task of choosing the White House puppy. And have you seen her clothes? Her high powered, tailored professional ensembles have been replaced by floral prints and airy sun dresses. Whether all this is by her own choice or by urgings of the DNC, Michelle's image is softening. And I get the impression she's happy and enjoying this time. She seems to smile more and relax when talking about her daughters and her eyes sparkle when she brags on her husband. This transition from one female role to another is frustrating her feminist counterparts. Feminists hate women to be traditionally feminine. (Again, how could they dismiss Sarah Palin so easily?)

So, what do I have to say about this? Bravo! I love to see strong, educated, successful women CHOOSE to be full-time wives and moms. I think any career, no matter how meaningful, and believe me, Michelle's work is consequential and far reaching, can be put on hold for five, eight or ten years. Michelle has chosen to honor her marital vows and serve as a mate to her husband. She is respecting the role of mother, something that all women should seriously reflect on before bringing a child into this hectic world. The Obamas are young and Michelle can yet go out and save Chicago's south side, but first, she must protect and buoy up her own daughters and her own marriage. This, during a time which will undoubtedly be a severe test of unity. Barack has some hard times ahead and having his "closest advisor" and ally with him, in the residency, is the most responsible and loving thing Michelle can do. (Think how differently Bill Clinton's legacy would have played out if his wife were nearer to him and his heart during his presidency.)

I'm not saying that mothers shouldn't work outside the home. I think women are a tremendous asset to society as a whole. They are invaluable contributors to the workplace as lawyers, doctors, teachers, engineers, politicians, every field, really. What I am railing against is the feminist idea that choosing to be home is somehow a diminutive role. Women are free to chose, so long as they don't chose to stay home. Homemaking is, somehow, a lower use of our faculties and talents. So, instead of respecting Michelle's right to select this role for herself, temporary as it may be, they are throwing her under the bus as one more lumpy, traditional First Lady.

Now I know I sound like a huge Tammy Wynette fan and you are all hearing "Stand By Your Man" crooning in the background. I'm not that girl. I am, however, a big proponent of partnership and responsibility. When you marry, you merge and become one. When you have a child you commit to raising that child in security and love. One of you, mom or dad, needs to be there, physically and emotionally, at all times. That's being a responsible parent. From what I'm seeing and reading, Michelle senses this and understands that her husband is going to be a little preoccupied for the next few years, crucial years for their daughters and their marriage. And despite the feminist outrage, Michelle is doing what she judges best for her, Barack and the girls. Isn't that what feminism was supposed to be about? Freedom to choose what is best for you and those you love?

In her many roles, Michelle's greatest contribution to this country as the First Lady might just be two grounded, intelligent, and happy young women. Her girls may grow up to change the world, or simply change diapers. Regardless, they will have been nurtured by a loving and wonderful mother and that's never regrettable.

Traisters closing paragraph: "And now, she [Michelle] is in the unenviable yet deeply happy position of being a history-maker whose own balancing act allowed her husband the space to make his political career zip forward, his books sing, his daughters healthy and beautiful, and his campaign succeed. In having done all this, Michelle Obama wrought for herself a life (temporarily, at least) of playing second fiddle. Then again, did she have a choice?"

I simply cannot think of a sadder, more detached view of womanhood. Anyone who has ever been in a loving, secure and equitable marriage knows that Traister just doesn't get it. She's straining to hear a single violin where there is a harmonious duet.

Stop It!

2008-11-03T18:07:00.008-07:00

I just finished a very hard run (my weekly time trial against Keith) and because this particular trail run was so difficult (wet, slippery leaves!), my mind drifted to things that really bug me right now so here is a list of five things that people must stop:

(1) Honking at runners: Running, for me, requires a fair amount of concentration. I listen to some in depth podcasts or my favorite music, and those combined with trying not to trip, take all my focus. Few things tick me off more than (and I believe I speak for all runners here) a startling horn blast followed by a stupid beauty pageant wave. Trust me when I tell you that my return wave is fueled by loathing. Stop it!

(2) Polling foreign nations on our presidential election: I understand that the world is shrinking and we are becoming a global society. However, I personally couldn't care less what the Australians think about my presidential choices. Could they possibly understand the issues better than me, a citizen of this nation? How is it that we ask their opinions? If you can find me a German, Egyptian, Kenyan or Canadian who wants to see Americans more free, more industrious, more safe, more rich, and more stable then I'd be inclined to listen. But I've lived abroad and at this point, my perception is that the rest of the world would love to see America drop down a notch or two to "even things out" on the world stage. And so their interest in the United State's future does not exactly parallel mine. This headline just in -- "Mother Russia supports Obama." Shocking!

(3) Posting an automatic playlist on your website/blog: I have iTunes and I don't need your site blaring at me when I check it out. I want to read your comments and see your pictures but attack me with your favorite Kenny Chesney song again, and I'm done.

(4) Fussing over getting everyone to vote: Of course, any person who wants to vote should be provided the means and opportunity to vote. We should make it as convenient and appealing as possible. Voting is one's right and privilege. Still, there are a good number of people out there who will not vote. And, for some reason, there is a push to get everyone to the voting booth. I don't get it. If you care, you have likely invested some mental energy in studying the issues (or at least "an issue") and have something to vote for or against. But having a part of the populace walk into the booth and start pulling levers because they were told to do so by some voter registration group, or an MTV chant, or a hyped Spielberg commercial, just can't be good. Surely both sides can agree that an uninformed voter is more dangerous than a non-voter. So, if your main reason for registering to vote is to get that free pack of cigarettes from ACORN, by all means, enjoy the smokes but please don't place your thumb print on the ledger come election day.

(5) Returning to Standard Time: I simply cannot understand the reason for this tradition. The various websites I visited investigating this annoying habit all noted that since it's inception in 1918 Daylight Savings Time has been nothing but positive. Stated reasons for DST included: less violent crime, fewer traffic accidents, safer trick-or-treating (yes, this was listed on numerous sites, including the official U.S. Naval Observatory site), energy conservation, and increased voter turnout. What's not to love? So why the insistence on returning to Standard Time at 2am on the first Sunday in November. All I know is this practice favors morning people and discriminates against me and my fellow night people. Standard Time Act makes for a darker, heavier, more depressing winter season and I want to know what it will take to repeal this act. More importantly, how did this vital issue escape the 2008 Presidential debates?

I warned you that my entries would contain more angst than usual. Ten days and no sugar!

Life is a Musical

2008-11-01T21:16:00.006-06:00

Keith and I recently attended a Parent-Teacher Conference to discuss Samantha's progress in school. Sam's teacher had nothing but accolades and repeatedly praised Sam's cheerful, sunny disposition. But teacher did have one thing Sam could work on: less singing. Apparently Sam sings while working at her desk. This is rather unobtrusive and can be overlooked as long as Sam sings low but when she gets to the chorus she has a tendency to swell. Sam's teacher said she will often let Sam continue singing until the children around her show signs of being disturbed and then she will simply tap Sam on the shoulder, bringing her back to reality. Teacher admitted that Sam is doing this unconsciously because she blushes upon interruption and is quick to apologize. It is also worth mentioning that many of Sam's songs are personal compositions because she will actually sing about what she's working on at her desk (insect life-cycle, fire safety, phonic coding, just to name a few). I blame Zac Efron.

So, as a parent, how do I help Sam break this harmonious habit? More important, why should I?

Unsung Heroes

2008-10-29T22:50:00.014-06:00

My dear friend discovered Fuzziwig's Candy Factory in Michigan City and while there with her two sons last week she grabbed these adorable Halloween suckers for my children. She took them home, packaged them delicately to prevent melting or breaking in transit, and mailed them from Indiana to Utah. Who does that? All that effort, three little suckers! Only a person who values friendship above time and kindness over convenience.
Sherri, the treats charmed my children immensely and you reminded me, yet again, how blessed I am to be your friend. Thoughtful gestures like this are why you are one of my heroes. And I miss you something terrible.

Detox Today Botox Tomorrow

2008-10-25T15:22:00.005-06:00

Last month I ran two marathons. (Note the intentional absence of an exclamation point. I used to announce that sort of running feat with pride but as I have aged, I have become more perceptive of other peoples' response to my announcements and I've learned that the vast majority of people are not only unimpressed by one completing a marathon, but honestly find it stupid. Where I would expect an awestruck "Wow," I usually get a perplexed "Why?" I am no longer deflated by this response and accept that only a select few find completing a marathon impressive. Most of those people are, fortunately, related to me.) Back to my point, after five months of marathon training, which involved upwards of 50 miles per week, plus lifting weights, I have become accustomed to eating whatever I want, whenever I want. Aye, there's the rub. Since April I've eaten like a teenage boy and now that my marathons are over I run the risk of morphing into what those teenage boys ruthlessly ridicule. So, to fend off their mockery, I have to alter my eating, and soon. My beloved mother knows me well and has therefore challenged me to a month sans sugar. She invited Keith, Jessi, and my dad to this test of will and the winner gets a financial reward. So, here I sit drinking my Lipton Green Tea and scowling at a plate of fresh-cut veges while my mind continues to drift to the heavily-frosted, homemade, birthday cake sitting in my fridge. (Which brings me to an ethical dilemma, do I let my children polish off the remainder of the cake, overloading their small bodies with sugar, or do I stick it down the disposal, displaying an attitude of waste, as well as disrespect to the baker, who is me. I must consider my position carefully because Halloween candy is going to rain down into this ethical bucket within the week.)

I tell you about my sugar detox program only to warn you that my next few blog entries might be a little more cycnical, rude, or sarcastic than normal. When I don't get my regular dose of candy, I tend to become a little cranky. (Just in time for the election.) The good news is I will not get nearly as crusty as Keith will without his daily Pepsi. The children will still find me the more pleasant of their two nurturing options and, in the end, their hugs and kisses are really the ultimate sugar fix. (Especially if they have trace remains of that cake on their lips.)

Cheers.

Snap

2008-10-24T21:42:00.003-06:00

Why blog? This has been a recurring discussion in my mind for the past six years. Blogging is such a flagrant act of narcissism and, though I quite like myself, I don't openly admit it. For some reason today is different and I'm textually announcing that I think you all want to hear what I have to say about stuff. And, you want to see pictures of my kids.

It would seem, however, that I am not fully prepared to accept my own egotism because I have enlisted the other Big J to join me on this blog. Sharing a blog divides the conceit in half and I feel better about that. Besides, as a stay-at-home mom with three young children, I spend a lot of time thinking about things. Jessi spends that time doing things. I think we two will make a good balance. I just need to convince her to get off her river raft, or mountain bike, or snow skis long enough to compose something.

As for the blog title, I thought an international edge was necessary because Jessi and my musings are likely to be provocative, insightful, and extensive. We will undoubtedly draw an international audience over time and I want all to feel welcome.

Cheers! (A la votre)