Texas Democratic Primary Part II: Just Before The Precinct Convention

I have lived in Texas for 20 years now and have never participated in a caucus before. I have to confess: before this election, I never even knew about the caucuses, despite having voted in every Democratic Party primary. That tells you a lot about the pulse of the Democratic Party in Texas (or lack thereof) prior to this election cycle. The fact that a longtime Democratic voter like me was never informed of or invited to participate in this process by which 1/3 of the delegates are awarded to a Democratic Party is somewhat stunning, I think.

The Obama campaign did a great job of training its Precinct Captains about how the precinct convention process works. Essentially, polls close at 7:00 pm or whenever the people in line at that time finish voting. At the later of 7:15 pm or whenever people finish voting, the precinct convention begins. People gather in a room at the polling place marked with the number of their precinct. Everyone who voted in the Democratic primary and is present can sign in, indicating their candidate preference. The number of people who signed in are counted, that number is divided by the total number of delegates allocated to the precinct (18 in this precinct), and the resulting number is the minimum a candidate must have to form a caucus and be assigned a delegate.

At first, a "temporary convention chair" who picks up the Party's packet runs this meeting, but the attendees then elect a "permanent convention chair" to oversee things. (The term "permanent" is somewhat misleading, as you are the chair just for that night). I asked about picking up the packet when I arrived, but ran smack into the formidable wall of the Permanent Precinct Chair (a party operative, not to be confused with the convention chair). She happens to be the sister of a former Texas Attorney General whose negative and defamatory whose negative and defamatory campaign against former Governor Ann Richards bore striking parallels to that of the Hillary Clinton campaign. She also happens to be a vociferous Hillary Clinton supporter and served as that campaign's Captain for our precinct.

A brief digression: I was stunned to learn while calling voters that when this Captain or one of her cohorts reached an Obama supporters in our precinct, the Clinton volunteer would treat them rudely, ask questions like, "Do you have ANY good reason for voting for him?" and oftentimes slam down the phone at the end of the call. Great way to win friends and influence people!

Anyhoo, back to the polling place: The Precinct Chair snottily informed me that I had no right to pick up the convention packet (which is not true) and said it was being held for her so she could run the meeting. Then, in the fine tradition of psychological projection, she told me there was no need to be hostile about this. We also discussed the matter of the missing Obama signs, and she suggested that the City of Dallas was known for removing candidates' signs from polling places, apparently thinking I just arrived in Dallas by way of a turnip truck. She then tried to bully me away from the polling place, despite the fact that anyone is allowed to observe the voting process. I soon realized why.

In the short time in which I was present at the polling place while the polls remained open, I learned of Ms. Precinct Chair and/or her fellow poll workers engaging in certain practices that were obviously designed to turn away people who wanted to vote and caucus for Barack Obama. Some African-American voters were told this wasn't their precinct and/or that they were not eligible to vote, but were not given the chance to cast a provisional vote, which they should have been allowed to do. Others, asking about the caucus, were told by those inside the voting room: "Gee, we have no idea what time the caucus will start," even though the time and location for the caucus should have been publicly posted at the polling place. I tried calling the Democratic Party and Obama campaign hotlines, but they were constantly busy. So, each time I learned of these things happened, I stepped inside and asked about it. I don't know if this had any influence whatsoever, but I'm hoping this deterred similar conduct by letting them know that the word was getting about and that we were not going to stand for it.

Next: the polls close, and inside the caucus.

I love Larry David.

As if Curb Your Enthusiasm wasn't enough, he offers this very savvy observation.

Texas Democratic Primary Part I: Leadup to Election Day

You may have heard that in Texas, we have this odd two-part way of choosing a Presidential nominee: first you vote, then you caucus. The Obama campaign refers to this as the "Texas two-step," a catch-phrase Hillary Clinton immediately began using without attribution, despite her abhorrence of plagiarism. But I digress . . .

Not content to merely serve my candidate as a volunteer in New Hampshire, I signed up to be a Precinct Captain in Texas. This meant I was assigned approximately 900 or so people in my precinct who were eligible to vote and seen as possible Obama supporters (there are just over 1000 eligible voters in the precinct, so we apparently cut a broad swathe). I was to call and/or visit these people to see who they support, talk about why they should vote for Obama and get them to vote for him in the primary and caucus for him on the night of the primary. If you have ever read this blog, you know I am a full-time practicing attorney and a very busy one, at that. So it was no small feat to make the 820 calls I made to my people over the course of just a few weeks, and I was proud to have accomplished that. In making those calls, I reached about 36 confirmed Obama supporters, but I had no guarantee how many would actually show up for the precinct convention.

On election day, I was at my polling place before 7 am. There I saw that someone had removed all of the Obama signs, plucking them from among all of the candidates' signs, though the Clinton signs still stood in full force. Strangely, this same thing happened in New Hampshire. I had no signs left and neither did the campaign. Utilizing the resourcefulness for which we Midwesterners are known, I left the polling place and marched up to the front door of a house that was displaying an Obama sign, in order to, well, beg for their sign. Turns out, I didn't have to do that, because they had three extras they graciously offered for the cause of ensuring a nice display at the polling place.

Back at the polling place, I watched to see if voting began on time. The election judge was huffing and puffing, apparently having allowed himself all of about 10 minutes to set up, but the polls opened just a minute or two late, with approximately 30 people already in line to vote. I asked if he would have a list of early voters available for our use in the caucus that night, and he said he would. Satisfied that I had done all I could for the morning, I headed in to work.

Next up: shenanigans before the precinct convention begins.

Naming rights.

I don't know if it is unique to my neighborhood, or to Texans in general, but I have noticed a trend while making my calls for my candidate: people with large families who name every kid with a name beginning with the father's initial. For instance, John has kids named John, Jim, Jesse, Joshua and Julie.

What's up with that?

Hillary supporters are the meanest . . .

this is one of the things I have learned as a volunteer for my favorite candidate.

A John Edwards supporter would engage with you on the issues. Bill Richardson supporters were also quite nice, certainly full of respect for their candidate. Of course, my candidate's supporters are thrilled to hear from a fellow supporter and are happy, excited and full of hope, but also able to speak intelligently on the issues. But those who plan to vote for Hillary Clinton and receive a call from a volunteer for another candidate are, in my experience, the quickest to be sarcastic, caustic and/or yell "I'm voting for Hillary" into the phone and hang up on the volunteer. A suspicion or mistrust hangs heavily in their voice.

And now, the Clinton campaign has purported to say who Ann Richards would have supported in this race, even over the objection of Ann Richards' sons. This disgusts me.

I can't wait for next Tuesday. But before then, I have a million precinct captain calls to make.

P.S. I should add: this analysis of meanness does not apply to my dear friends who like Hillary Clinton. They would never be mean, to me or anyone, and are nice to me despite the fact that I keep putting my foot in my mouth about their fondness for their candidate.

Now you will understand.

When I read this interview of Texas Governor Rick "Good Hair" Perry by NY Times writer Deborah Solomon, I literally choked with laughter. Governor Perry, you see, just wrote a book about how much he loves the Boy Scouts and how much he hates my favorite civil rights organization. While there are many wonderful quotes in the interview, this is, in my opinion, the money quote:

Solomon: I know they have a dog-care merit badge, but why not a child-care badge?

Perry: Why not teach scouts how to change a baby’s diaper and help out moms? I don’t have a problem with that.

I love that while the writer is pointing out the Boy Scouts' sexism in not having a child-care badge, Perry responds with uber-sexism, assuming the Scouts can help moms, not dads, with child care. Perfect!

A Perry anecdote: my friend's ex is an official with a powerful firemen's union and he had a photo-op a few years ago with the Governor. While they waited for the photographer to get ready, Governor Perry looked down at Brian's boots and said something like, "Those are nice. Where do you have them made?" Our Governor is so out of touch that he assumed a fireman has the money to have his boots specially made, which is a very expensive proposition.

Sometimes I wonder how in the world I've managed to live here for 20 years.

The best $90 I have ever spent.

In the last several years, I have worked hard to be smarter with my money. So I was surprised that an impulse buy I made yesterday turned out to be such an unregrettable decision.

Staring at the American Airlines quick check-in kiosk at the Jacksonville Airport, I had to make a choice. I could simply check in and take my very respectable window seat near the front of the coach section. Or, I could accept the airline's offer of a first class seat for only an additional $90. My memory veered back to the flight to Jacksonville, where I had found myself hungry at lunchtime, smelling the aroma of the first class lunch offering, but with only trail mix available to me. Not only that--I was feeling sleepy, as if a cold was coming on, and was laboring under the grief brought on by the fact that my laptop's hard drive had just been diagnosed with a serious, possibly terminal, illness. I desperately craved a comfortable flight experience.

It will not surprise you that I chose the first class upgrade. I don't think I have ever paid for a first class seat before, having only enjoyed that experience once when the airline offered it gratuitously for reasons I no longer remember. But there is something truly decadent and wonderful about being served with a drink of water even before takeoff, nibbling on warmed nuts, receiving your choice of wine for free and then enjoying a well-rounded dinner of pasta, salad and . . . mmm . . . very good cheesecake (not to mention the hot towel), just before taking a nap. (Note: first class isn't perfect: that section also has a jerk who hacks and coughs the whole way home without ever covering his mouth).

I doubt I will have the chance to fly first class again anytime soon--at least not in a price range I am willing to endure. But every now and then, it's nice to luxuriate in being pampered.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Valentine courtesy of right wing news, via althouse.

Where did my mojo go?

I'm perplexed by where my blogging gumption has gone in recent months. Maybe it's that I have been too busy with work and other stuff to take time to think the introspective thoughts I like to write about here. Maybe it's that much of what I would like to write about I cannot . . . like the lawsuit I am pursuing against the lying jerks who sold me my house, a lawsuit made more difficult by the fact that I am a nice person who didn't want to sue them unless I absolutely could not solve the problem they caused on my own. Maybe it's that I have become so shallow I don't have anything meaningful to write about anymore.

Despite my best resolve for 2008, I haven't been keeping up with family or friends in the way I would like, nor have I been working on my physical health as I would like. I am, however, a billing machine at work. And I have listed some of my photographs for sale. Soon I'll have a piece of my own art to hang on my wall at work . . . I'll photograph it for you after it arrives. And I do have a cute new haircut that makes me want to live up to the stylishness of my hair.

I miss my camera, which has been tucked away in the closet with no place to go. But next week, we're going to Florida on a business trip, and at the end of March, we're going to Arizona for another business trip, this one with baseball, too. And I'm going to work to help Barack Obama win the Texas Democratic Party primary on March 4th.

In more important new, Phil has lost a friend. He is far from home . . . please drop by and give him a virtual hug.




P.S. I should add this: even though I will be angry if I lose this case because I was nice, I will never, ever regret being the nice person who lost, as opposed to the jerk who lied. Never.

Video Sunday, and Other Tidbits

Who would have ever thought I would find myself saying, "Way to go, Montel! Tell it like it is."



Via Susan at "Kiss My Big Blue Butt."

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This video made by supporters of Barack Obama is really wonderful:



Who would have ever thought that I would be so thoughtless and conclusory in my support of Barack Obama as to spend a chunk of my nice walk with a friend this morning bashing Hilary Clinton, only to realize, not nearly quickly enough, that my friend is a Clinton supporter? I feel like a jerk. I need to think more before speaking.

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This is totally awesome:



Via Kottke.

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And finally, I cannot get this Sarah Silverman song out of my head (BUT FIRST--The video is even funnier if you FIRST check out the links in this story about the background behind it):



Via People.

Befriending Saddam

This is a really interesting article about the FBI agent assigned to draw information from Saddam Hussein. He had only been in the FBI for five years when he was assigned to him. The agent was made to seem more important than he really was by, among other things, guards scurrying around to please him whenever he was on the scene. The agent believes Saddam saw him as having a direct line of communication to the President of the United States.

Here's my question: the Administration has used the "state secrets" excuse a billion times to avoid producing information in connection with lawsuits against it, on the grounds that disclosing the information would impair our ability to obtain information from terrorists and others. If that is the case, why is this FBI agent free to talk to 60 Minutes about how he engaged Saddam Hussein?

I wish he would tell us what he really thinks.

Who? "Roosh." The scary thing is: I think he is right.

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From the "How stupid does the Harris County DA think we are?" category: this story.

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Off to pack bag, work a few hours, then off to Atlanta for a meeting. Back tomorrow night!

Hodge and Podge

I've been trying to figure out what I feel about Heath Ledger's untimely death. The easy answer is sorrow for his daughter and Michelle Williams. A part of me feels tired, tired of young people with so much promise dying for no reason--at least, no reason that makes sense. Yet another part of me knows that, as with the death of River Phoenix, I will always remember where I was and what I was doing when I learned of this death. Simply put, I believe he was a great actor whose ultimate promise will now never be known, and by all accounts, he was a devoted father. What a loss.

Last night, I found myself turning to "The Station Agent." Perhaps it was the Michelle Williams connection (she plays a librarian in the movie), or perhaps not. Each movie I love, and I do love this movie, fills a particular need in me. "Jerry McGuire" is the movie I turn to when I'm feeling unappreciated in my career. "The West Wing" (admittedly, a TV series, not a movie) is for when I'm lonely or dreaming of a more stimulating career. "The Philadelphia Story" is simply comforting, transporting me to a time years ago when it was possible to have a romance with Cary Grant. It's funny . . . I never realized the consistency of those themes--of wishing for something better--until I wrote this paragraph just now.

Anyway, I'm not sure I have anything more uplifting to offer at the moment, just these thoughts.

In a rare act of diligence,

I have created a post of the NYC visit I experienced just one week ago . . . check it out!

An Honor

Stepping into my neighborhood coffee shop on Monday, I learned a special honor had been bestowed upon me in my absence: I was named "Customer of the Week":



The prize? A free venti non-fat latte every day this week. How great is that?!?

This is the most perfect video ever.

And not just because I loved the movie "Election":

I am posting from New York . . .

and no longer missing in action. Sorry for my absence from the blog . . . I have been working hard, closely following the primary campaign season and swamped with volunteer duties as well.

In fact, I'm in New York because I was called upon at the last minute to fill in for a colleague who could not make it to our organization's national board meeting here. I am exhausted by the heavy reading to prepare for the matters discussed, as well as the late nights and socializing. I also find myself feeling exhilarated by the inspirational people I have met. Due to the late notice of my trip, it was difficult to get plans in place with friends, but I'm determined to do something "New Yorky" before leaving town tonight and hope to get to spend time with them also. One thrill of the trip thus far was sitting at Dorothy Parker's "round table" at the Algonquin Hotel while out for drinks last night.

I hope to write more after I have slept a bit, and not to let too much time pass before that happens.

About that "new life" . . .

I've been thinking a lot since my return from New Hampshire late last night. Thinking about how to summon up the willpower and focus to make the changes needed in my life. Thinking about the kind of work that will make me happy. Thinking about how the proudest moment of 2007 for me was when a 22 year-old staffer for my candidate told me I would make an excellent political operative, based on my ability to connect with, charm and explain the issues to the voters I spent five days calling.

I need more time to think. But tomorrow I return to work and I have to really work hard to make up for my lack of productivity last year, while I was distracted by things I love so much more. I thought I would be ready and excited, but I'm not . . . a part of me wants to cry. Each of my parents spent many years working at jobs they did not love so that my brother and I could have good lives. I know I can do this, too, but I don't want to spend the rest of my life wishing I had done something that made me excited to get up every morning.

A friend of mine told me it has seemed for a while as if I am waiting for something to come along and change my life. Most of my major life changes so far have not happened at my own behest. I cannot quite see what lies around the bend, but more than anything else this year, I resolve to have the courage to go out find it, rather than waiting and hoping for it to come my way.

Benazir Bhutto

is assassinated, giving rise to extreme uncertainty about the future of Pakistan. And yet again, President Bush is caught with his pants down, on vacation in Crawford and "scrambling" to react to the implications for the U.S. regarding Bhutto's death:

U.S. officials _ who had labored to promote stability in the nuclear-armed country that has been an anti-terrorism ally _ huddled to assess the impact of Bhutto's death two weeks before legislative elections in the turbulent nation in which her party was expected to do well.

Here is her New York Times obituary.

And the Washington Post has now written that the U.S. brokered Bhutto's return to Pakistan in an effort to keep their chosen rights violator in power. How telling that our Administration would place Bhutto in such a dangerous position and then fail to protect her. Sound familiar?

Christmas Tidbits

Gosh, I have accomplished a lot this weekend. The completed items from my to-do list:

• buy adult and children's drinks for Christmas Eve
• buy presents for friend's mother and stepfather
• buy 14x25x1 filters for upstairs AC/heat unit
• buy Christmas present for dogs
• find Christmas present bought long ago for Dan
  
• return unused tree lights to Target
• buy skirt for Christmas tree (I own about three of these, but can find none of them)
  
• complete work project for taking to New Hampshire
• tidy up house
  
• locate gloves to take to New Hampshire
• prepare photographs for live sale and submit more photos for review at PhotoShelter
• see "Before the Devil Knows You're Dead"
  
• get pedicure

And the items remaining, some to be completed today and some to be completed before or shortly after the holidays are over:

• more billable work
• retrieve gifts from my office (DONE)
  
• print boarding pass for tomorrow's flight (DONE)
  
• wrap gifts (DONE)
  
• wash clothes/pack for New Hampshire trip (DONE)
  
• select reading material for New Hampshire trip (DONE)
  
• facial
• car repair
  
• see "No Country for Old Men," "Charlie Wilson's War" (DONE), "The Savages," "Juno" and "The Kite Runner"
  

The picture-guessing contest will remain open until Christmas morning, when I shall reveal the answers before flying off to New Hampshire.

I find myself longing for Paris, where I spent four days, including Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, two years ago. Paris seems the right place to be for Christmas. Maybe next year . . .

Happy Holidays, Dear Readers!

As a special Christmas prize, the first person to identify each of these photos (by name, location or event) may ask me to answer any question they like.*

*Subject to my ultimate approval of the question asked, which shall not be unreasonably withheld.

******

Clockwise, from top left:

Seattle
Central Park, NYC
Orley
Monk seal, Kauai, Hawaii
Shelburne Farms, Vermont
Nepali Coast, Kauai, Hawaii
Sammy Sosa's 600th home run, the Ballpark in Arlington (home of the Texas Rangers)
Kip
Sunset in Kauai, Hawaii

I believe Kell came the closest to accurately guessing all pics. Thanks for playing, and Merry Christmas!

I was in Austin the other day . . .

. . . and the Texas Capital looked really pretty, all dressed up for Christmas:

Annoyed by all the focus on the destroyed CIA torture tapes,

Dick Cheney says, "I'll show you document destruction!" and sets the building on fire. It's the Eisenhower Executive Office Building, known as the "OEOB" to devoted West Wing watchers.

Unbelievable!

I wanted a Christmas tree and said yesterday morning that I might get one. As it turns out, this isn't an easy task less than 10 days before Christmas.

The easiest part was buying the tree. At the nursery just around the corner from my house, I found a lovely 7-8 footer for half price at only $37.50. The place was nice enough to deliver the tree to my house so I didn't have to sully my beloved car (though I do adore driving a Christmas tree home in December in a convertible with the top down).

I was sure I had a Christmas tree stand at home, but could not find it. Locating a stand in the retail world was no easy feat, requiring trips to two different Target stores and, ultimately, a Home Depot store where I purchased a used display model for one dollar.

Finding white lights also carried a high difficulty rating. There were multi-colored lights, blue lights and button lights in pearl or satin finishes, but no plain white mini-lights. At long last, I was able to find what was literally the last set of white mini-lights in two large Target stores near my house.

Wrestling the thick-trunked tree into the stand proved to be a challenge with no other human around to hold the trunk upright. But I'm proud to say that I ultimately prevailed in this battle, though the star tree-topper is a little "scrunched" against the ceiling.

My favorite part of holiday decorating is pulling out all of my Christmas ornaments and other thingamabobs. Each one has a memory attached and I revel in remembering.

This morning, I pulled the vacuum cleaner out of the closet to try to pick up all the fallen needles. And there I found my tree stand.



Now if only the vacuum would work and I could find the Christmas tree skirt . . .

Making Plans

This year moved very slowly at first, but now feels as if it has accelerated. Yesterday was the 9th anniversary of the phone call from my brother in which I learned my father had died. It is unfathomable to me that 9 years have passed since that day. I tried to stay busy yesterday by working at my office all afternoon and deep into the night, but often found myself reflecting on what this means. I believe it means I have to move forward. I loved my Dad dearly and miss him very much, but I know he would want me to hold on less tightly and live this life for all it is worth, as he worked so hard for us to have a good life. This realization and vow feel bittersweet, but I cannot think of a better way to honor him than by a life well-lived. And so I emerge from this self-imposed hibernation, shaking off the branches and snow and looking with wonder around me at all that has changed while I was asleep . . .

Luckily, I'm not too far behind with holiday preparations despite the swift passage of time . . . most of my Christmas shopping is done. About half of the holiday cards I send to clients and work contacts are finished. I have ordered my personal holiday cards and am awaiting their arrival so I can sign and send them. Today I should finish my personal card mailing list and a little newsletter for inclusion with the cards. I have not yet put up a Christmas tree at my house, though I am longing to have one . . . maybe I'll remedy that today.

Lots of time has been spent making plans, which thus far include:

(1) spending several days after Christmas in New Hampshire working on the Barack Obama campaign;

(2) catching the Bruce Springsteen concert in Houston (and maybe Dallas, too, if we're lucky) in April with my dear friends J and B (with whom I had such a wonderful time in Hawaii); and

(3) dreaming of a return to New Orleans for a seminar in May, where I plan to take my camera and hopefully meet up with some civil rights friends I haven't seen in a while.

The planning process for this New Hampshire trip was much more difficult than I would have thought. My goal was simple: to go where they most needed the help. But the campaign was so accommodating, saying, "just tell us where you want to be and you can work at the nearest regional office." There are so many offices to choose from that I was a bit overwhelmed in thinking about which one to make my home base. While I initially thought about staying in Manchester because the operation there is the biggest and there would be the most nighttime activity there, I decided to work out of Littleton and stay, amazingly inexpensively, at the cozy inn I discovered during my last trip (see photo below). This location also has the upside of being near the Vermont border, so I may be able to duck into the state I grew to love so much during my visit earlier this year. The campaign promises me there will be plenty of work to do, and I hope they are right.

I tried to save a bit of money by using frequent flier miles for the plane ticket, which resulted in me flying in on Christmas and flying out on New Year's Eve--having no plans of any kind makes making such plans really easy. I'm really excited to do this work, and Barack's endorsement today by the Boston Globe will add an extra dash of inspiration. There will definitely be a white Christmas!

Thursday Tidbits

This New York Times analysis of last night's Republican Party debate in Iowa is really cool. It's a graphic that lets you see the number of words spoken and the speaking time for various candidates. You can also hone in on particular portions of the transcript. There is also an interactive video that jumps to the part in which the words that interest you are spoken.

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Things are heating up on the baseball stove. I felt like a little girl on Christmas morning when I awoke yesterday to find the Chicago Cubs have landed one of the most coveted free agents, Japanese outfielder Kosuke Fukudome. Still waiting for: (1) Ron Santo, beloved Cubs radio broadcaster, to mispronounce his name in a manner that draws a huge fine from the FCC; and (2) the big Major League Baseball "drug report" from independent investigator/Red Sox Director George Mitchell, who has spent the last year and a half saying "pretty please" while trying to get people to rat out the drug users in baseball. They say there will be lots of big names in it . . . I hope none are (currently) Cubs.

*******

Did you know you are supposed to regularly switch out the filters on your A/C and heat vents in your house? (Asked the very stuffed up girl.)

I made the mistake of succumbing to sleep

around 6:00 p.m. . . . and now I'm wide awake at 1:00 a.m. So I shall do this meme:

1. What did you do in 2007 that you'd never done before?
Visited Hawaii, Vermont and New Hampshire

2. Did you keep your new year's resolutions, and will you make more
for next year?
I don't remember what they were; if losing weight, no. Next year? Yes!

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
Not that I know of.

4. Did anyone close to you die?
My friends Karen and Dan lost their dogs Spike and Hank, whom I have known and loved for years, within days of each other a few weeks ago.

5. What countries did you visit?
Very briefly, Canada.

6. What would you like to have in 2008 that you lacked in 2007?
Peace with myself, healthy eating and exercise.

7. What dates from 2007 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
1.24.07--making shareholder at my firm.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
That, plus being named G.C. at my favorite civil rights organization.

9. What was your biggest failure?
Not doing a better job of navigating the ups and downs of various personal relationships.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
Nothing out of the ordinary.

11. What was the best thing you bought?
The ring with the light blue stone, in Hawaii, and the photograph of Fred Tuttle in Vermont.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
My two dogs seemed to have negotiated a peace treaty, which makes me very happy.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
Mine and my brother's. Also, that of a few colleagues.

14. Where did most of your money go?
Political and charitable contributions, travel.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
The Chicago Cubs' playoff chances and my trips.

16. What song will always remind you of 2007?
"Waiting on the World to Change" by John Mayer.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
a) happier or sadder? same
b) thinner or fatter? same
c) richer or poorer? richer

18. What do you wish you'd done more of?
Exercise.

19. What do you wish you'd done less of?
Worrying and second-guessing.

20. How will you be spending Christmas?
I'm hoping to volunteer for the Barack Obama campaign in New Hampshire.

21. Did you fall in love in 2007?
No.

22. How many one-night stands?
Um, well, how do you define that?

23. What was your favorite TV program?
None--I don't watch TV.

24. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
No.

25. What was the best book you read?
"On the Road" by Jack Kerouac.

26. What was your greatest musical discovery?
Luciano Pavrotti's Nessun Dorma (so I was late to that party), Anna Netrebko.

27. What did you want and get?
A treadmill and a convertible that doesn't malfunction multiple times per year.

28. What did you want and not get?
A paying position with the ACLU.

29. What was your favorite film of this year?
Paris Je T'Aime.

30. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I turned 38, drove from southern New Hampshire to eastern Vermont, checked into a lovely inn and ate dinner by the fire while chatting with interesting innkeepers.

31.What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
If I had done a better job of controlling my temper.

32. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2007?
Wearing colors every now and then, instead of only black, gray or brown.

33. What kept you sane?
My hunger for civil rights work and knowledge that the Shrub will leave the White House in 2009.

34. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
Jon Stewart.

35. What political issue stirred you the most?
Adherence (or not) to the Geneva Conventions, the right of habeas corpus.

36. Who did you miss?
My Dad and my grandmother.

37. Who was the best new person you met?
A fellow member of the board of my favorite civil rights organization.

38. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2007
Pay your traffic tickets on time.

39. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.
Dream a little dream of me . . .

Did I mention who I'm supporting in the Democratic Party primary?

Here's a hint:



But Hillary Clinton says I may want to think twice about this, because Obama's "character" is in question due to his writing in kindergarten that he wanted to be President, while he currently denies years of preparation for the position (according to this Chicago Tribune story). Hilariously, the Tribune titled its link to that story: "the clinton pot calls the obama . . . "

Why, you ask, is the terrible truth about Obama just now being revealed? Perhaps this story provides a clue:

[In Iowa,] Obama had the support of 28 percent of respondents, up six points from the last Register poll, in early October. Former senator John Edwards (N.C.) drew 23 percent. Clinton was in the middle at 25 percent, down four points from early October. The margin of error is 4.4 percentage points.

If you are wondering what helped me make up my mind about the Democratic candidate of choice, it was many things, with this being the last straw:

[College student Muriel] Gallo-Chasanoff, whose story was first reported in the campus newspaper, said what happened was simple: She said a senior Clinton staffer asked if she'd like to ask the senator a question after an energy speech the Democratic presidential hopeful gave in Newton, Iowa, on November 6.

"I sort of thought about it, and I said 'Yeah, can I ask how her energy plan compares to the other candidates' energy plans?'" Gallo-Chasanoff said Monday night.

According to Gallo-Chasanoff, the staffer said, " 'I don't think that's a good idea, because I don't know how familiar she is with their plans.' "

This reminded me just a bit too much of the administration of someone else we know. Ms. Gallo-Chasanoff could not have said it better:

While she acknowledged "it's possible that all campaigns do these kind of tactics," she said that doesn't make it right.

"Personally I want to know that I have someone who's honest representing me."

P.S. Although her cute picture is slipping down the page, please do consider giving to May's Team if you have a few spare pennies. The marathon is next Sunday. Thank you! :)

This makes me laugh

in a good way.

And so does this . . . Rudy has produced great spin on his using taxpayer money, funneled through other New York City department accounts, to pay for security while he cheated with his mistress:





Via Talking Points Memo.

This makes me sad

and scared.

Remember May?

May is the daughter of two of my dear friends here in Dallas. She is funny and smart and cute and altogether delightful. You would never know she suffers from Tuberous Sclerosis (TS), which causes benign tumors to form in organs throughout the body. The last time I asked you to support May's parents in raising money to fight TS through our local marathon, I was delighted when they asked me questions like, "Is David in Utah one of your friends?," after so many of you so generously offered your support.



So far, May’s TS has manifested itself as a couple of tumors in her brain. Her health has been good this year: her medicine seems to work pretty well. However, every three months or so, May “outgrows” her dosage, experiencing a handful of seizures that lead her doctor to up her prescription. Her parents hope this current dosage can keep her seizure free for a while, but only time will tell. You can learn more about TS in this wonderful article about all that actress Julianne Moore is doing for the cause.

As I mentioned before, Scottish Rite Hospital in Dallas is a huge help to May and her parents. The research they do there as well as the information that they provide has been terrific for their family. Scottish Rite has even hooked their family up with other families dealing with the disease, sending them to camp together annually to ensure they remember the support they can offer each other. Most importantly, the help Scottish Rite offers is entirely free, as the hospital is entirely funded from charitable donations.

A week from Sunday, May's Team will again run in the Dallas White Rock Marathon in an effort to raise money for Scottish Rite. If you have a bit of spare cash, I cannot think of a more worthy cause than this wonderful hospital that makes life so much better for so many people, including my dear little friend May and her parents. You can pledge support for the runners here--as you can see, they have a little way left to reach their goal. Think you can help? :)

Thank you for your consideration!

Thanksgiving Update

I hope you all had a great Thanksgiving Day. Our meal was wonderful and unexpectedly quiet as a result of last-minute cancellations by my brother and cousins. The bright side of this was that I was able to enjoy the longest uninterrupted conversation I have ever had with my uncle, a great guy whom I do not see often enough. Having arrived a bit early, I was even able to enjoy a private visit with my aunt and uncle while I constructed a salad. (No, the world has not ended, as I did not actually "cook" anything . . . I merely assembled pieces of a salad). By the time my Mom and I returned home, it was after 5 pm and I was exhausted, having only slept for a few hours before catching my early morning flight to Chicago.

On another note, there is something strange about waking up in one's childhood bedroom. There was a period of time between high school graduation and my father's death in which I did not sleep in this room, because I always stayed with my Dad when back in Illinois. But now, by default, I stay at my mother's house, which is also the only house I ever lived in as a child. The room has now been painted, the Shaun Cassidy and Parker Stephenson posters are gone and there is a new and much more comfortable mattress on the narrow twin bed. But still, I cannot shake the feeling of being watched here by ghosts of my childhood. Being here returns me to the silence of my childhood, where feelings were never discussed, except for jotting them down in my diary.

Thoughts for another day, as I go off to take my grandmother's boyfriend to breakfast . . .

Pre-Thanksgiving Tidbits

Here is the fastest trip from Fort Worth to Dallas that you've ever seen, as viewed from the police car chasing a totally insane guy who would not stop:



Via Unfair Park.

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Returning home for Thanksgiving . . . first major holiday at home in as long as I can remember. I'm trying to think of it in a positive way. I'm only going for three days, leaving Sunday back here to regroup. Wish me luck!

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Flight tomorrow at 6:45 a.m. Eek! Among the books making the journey with me is a book about the technical aspects of my camera, one that I've been meaning to study for a while. It is possible that what pushed the book onto my "to take" pile is my desire not to look like a fool with this guy I find interesting who is a talented photographer. Hm.

On a brighter note . . .

I had a weekend jam-packed with things I love to do, including but not limited to several hours of service to my favorite civil rights organization.

After that, a glorious day and a lovely drive from Dallas to Central Texas, where I was able to catch up with a friend, try a new food (an Indian dessert) and even learn a new skill: XBox 360 (though I am decidedly unskilled at it, I have learned).

Now knocking out some work before conducting training sessions all day tomorrow. But I'll have a 3-hour drive home in which to try to think of something interesting to write so as not to make another post like this one. :)

Of birthdays, and departures, and vows.

One day earlier this week, I was leaving work for the evening when I noticed several police cars and a good bit of police tape at the far end of our parking garage. The scene was too far away for me to see what was going on and the security guard I passed on my way out would not tell me what had occurred. It later became clear that our property owner's "sound bite" on the incident was that it was a "medical emergency," as one rep after another used that phrase and looked uncomfortable when asked what happened in the parking garage the other night. My mind is nothing if not inquisitive, and I embarked upon a mission to find out more about this incident.

Yesterday, I found an offense report at the police department's web site indicating that a 62-year old man had committed suicide by shooting himself in our parking garage just after 5 pm that day. I cannot stop thinking about this man. My thoughts and feelings have included sadness that he felt the need to end his life prematurely, wondering what caused him to do that and worrying about his family.

Today, I found his obituary. Reading it gave me a great sense of relief that he appears to have had a loving and wonderful family and a life that included many happinesses. It also makes me wonder even more what could have led him to the hopelessness that would permit him to commit suicide. I have considered leaving a note of support for his family at their online guestbook, but I have not yet figured out what I should say.

Today would have been my father's 65th birthday had he not died 9 years ago. When I learned of my father's death in that long distance telephone call from my brother, one of my first questions was whether Dad had taken his own life. Although my brother said no, I do not believe I truly accepted that until I actually read the autopsy report blaming a heart attack for my father's death. Dad struggled for years with the depression with which I so often grapple as well, though it was only after his death that I learned from family friends that he had, for a brief period of time while I was in high school, been hospitalized due to his illness. I was upset that no one had ever told me this; I think knowing it would have led me to treat my father more gently and with greater patience. I realize I should have done that anyway, but nonetheless, I wish I had known.

This is the hardest time of year not just for me, but for many, many people. I have thought a good bit this week about what nice thing I can do for Phil's birthday. Here it is: Instead of acting abruptly when encountering less-than-cheerful folks, thoughtless drivers or less than stellar customer service, I will make sure I offer a cheery or supportive word and try to leave their day a little brighter after our encounter, because who knows what struggles they may be having? This is a small thing to do, but I know from being on the receiving end of such kindnesses that they mean a lot when someone is feeling sad or hopeless.

Peanut Tales.

Everything you ever needed to know about the kind of people one finds in law school is right here, in this thread on AbovetheLaw.com.

The back story is that apparently, a student at Villanova's law school has a peanut allergy. She decided to be a visiting student at Fordham this year, and the Villanova dean sent a sympathetic email to the Fordham dean, not realizing that he was actually emailing an entire listserv of deans, deans who are not really all that into discretion, and one of whom leaked the email to a blog read by many.

In the comments thread that follows, you will see there are people sympathetic to the peanut allergy, those who are disdainful of it, some cynics who think the girls is faking it because peanuts only appear to bother her when she actually knows they are present, and others who simply do not want to give up their peanut butter sandwiches. A few Villanova students deny that any "peanut party" occurred after the girl's departure, though someone says they simply were not invited to said peanut party.

It's a rough world, law school land.

Weekend and the Week Ahead

I meant to work this weekend and instead did fun things . . . saw a movie that made me think about whether a person is better off with their own parents or better parents, went on a house tour that included a church being made into a modern home and ate some excellent hummus. One of the best parts of my weekend was reading the Sunday New York Times nearly cover to cover. If there was only one thing I could keep about my weekends (assuming I could always spend time with my dogs), it would be reading the New York Times. Thank goodness that all of the good papers have not gone away in this age of corporate imperialism in the media world.

Phil had a 40th! birthday on Saturday and made an intriguing request for birthday presents. He asks that we each go out of our way to do more good or less harm than we otherwise would have, and report back to him. It's a great idea, birthday or no. It also makes me feel better to know that others would have to consciously think of this, as sometimes I feel as if I'm the last one figuring it all out.

Go forth and have a great week!

Change of plans.

I realized that I have been censoring myself on this blog. Perhaps a more accurate term would be "not writing."

I've been holding back from writing things that are not upbeat enough or that you may not find interesting or that may not be perfect enough to pass my own ridiculously high bar. I have felt worried that people are tired of me using this as a virtual diary. But I did not begin writing this for an audience, and I need to write about the things that are going to help me grow as a person, because, well, that's what I need to do. I need to write every day because it makes me a better writer. I need to stop censoring myself. So, I hope you all will hang around, because I have grown to really like you, but if you don't, I understand.

Some random things:

• I feel lucky to have a housekeeper who surprises me by unearthing a few of my little-used Halloween decorations and displaying them in my house, then putting them away after Halloween.
• Walking through a Sears store this week, I was catapulted back to my childhood, in which any family trip to the mall began and ended with the Sears store . . . I found myself remembering how hard my parents worked, at jobs they were not that crazy about, in order to give my brother and I a better life. I'm going to remember that the next time I am having a bad day at work and am tempted to hate my job.
  
• I may be growing up, in that I would previously have agonized when a person with whom I work once again reveals himself to be an asshole, but this time, it bothered me for thirty seconds and then I moved on, glad I don't have to live with the karma that will be his.
• Certain things that are really good have fallen away from my life over the last few years . . . such as reading books for pleasure, working out and boys. I want to change that.

The Cheneys Support Racist Country Clubs

I'm sure this is shocking to you. But I feel obligated to report what Dallas' daily newspaper studiously ignores.

As reported on the "Unfair Park" blog of Dallas' weekly newspaper, the Dallas Observer, during the visit to Dallas last week of Vice President Dick Cheney, his wife Lynne held a book signing. Lynne Cheney chose to sign her new book at the Dallas Country Club, reportedly the only country club in America that still refuses to admit blacks or Jews. Dallas Observer writer Robert Wilonsky hypothesizes:

Guess since the book is "Cheney's memoir of her childhood in Casper, Wyoming," she wanted to capture that all-white experience she grew up with. And Cheney as a congressman was one of the few to vote against the MLK holiday.

Dallas' weekly newspaper had, of course, reported recently on the membership of two Dallas mayoral candidates in this country club (one of whom is now our Mayor, unfortunately), but apparently doesn't see the roles of the VP and his wife as being quite as high profile as Mayor of Dallas.

Be sure to check out the Unfair Park post, as it also contains an adorable picture of the Cheneys' dogs' Halloween costumes. Perhaps Dick is on his way to Pakistan right now to help his and Shrub's beloved Pakistani President Musharraf beat the crap out of lawyers protesting his coup of his own administration and unconstitutional overthrow of the supreme court poised to rule on whether he had lawfully won the last election.

In case you are wondering,

I was NOT the heckler escorted by security from Dick Cheney's speech in Dallas yesterday. But I did notice a black cloud hung over our fair city the entire time he and his wife were in town.

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Who does this sound like?

“Rudy can fall for people big time, and sometimes qualifications are secondary to loyalty,” said Fran Reiter, a former Giuliani deputy mayor who now supports Hillary Clinton. “If he gets it in his head he trusts you, he is extremely loyal.”

I'll give you a hint: in the linked story, he is pictured with Bernard Kerik. Electing Rudy Giuliani is the single worst thing that could happen in the 2008 election.

There is one less woman in professional baseball.

Although I love the sport of baseball, one of its dirty little not-so-secrets is the sexism. I tolerate this because I love the game so much, but it is sometimes quite hard to stomach. There are some very talented women holding a variety of positions in the game of baseball, but too few, and rarely at the levels they deserve.

This is not surprising when one hears comments like the one Cubs manager Lou Piniella made to a New York Times reporter earlier this year in this exchange:

Q (reporter): On the other hand, it might be nice if baseball moved into the future by including more women in its ranks. Do you think a woman could be a good manager?

A (Piniella): If she had a good bench coach, why not? I would think she would need a good hardened professional baseball guy that would help her with the x’s and o’s during the ballgame. Someone who knew the intricacies in and out of the game.

And he was serious.

So I was saddened to learn tonight via the ever-informative Bleed Cubbie Blue that Ria Cortesio, pro baseball's only female umpire, was let go this week. Her dismissal is especially startling given the status she had attained:

Cortesio started this season as the top-ranked umpire in all of Double-A. If there had been an opening in Triple-A, it would've been hers.

There were no vacancies and when the new ratings by minor league supervisors came out in mid-season, her ranking substantially dropped. So, too, did her chance of getting a promotion and possibly making it to the majors someday.

A move up would have greatly changed her status - umpires in Triple-A are under the auspices of major league supervisors.

"I don't know if they wanted to make a call on me in the majors," she said.

Cortesio umpired a spring training game between the Cubs and the Diamondbacks this year. I wish I had seen that in person, as it may be a long time before another woman has that opportunity. I hope MLB proves me wrong.

Help, the U.S. government has fallen into a rabbit hole and it can't get up . . . .

You may ask yourself, what on earth would lead a governmental agency to have to make this pledge about its press conferences:

Paulison pledged yesterday that FEMA will give at least one hour's notice of news conferences, will not prevent reporters listening in on a telephone conference line from asking questions and will allow only reporters to do the questioning.

Well, this is the kind of pledge an agency must make after it:

• announces a news conference about 15 minutes before it is to begin, making it unlikely that reporters could attend;

• sets up a telephone conference line so reporters can listen, but prohibits the reporters from being able to ask questions during the conference;

• in a conference televised live by cable news channels, the agency spokesman stands behind a lectern and calls on questioners without disclosing that he is calling on his agency's own employees;

• the spokesman gives replies reading more like a publicity piece, in which he emphasizes that his agency's response to this week's California wildfires was far better than its response to Hurricane Katrina in August 2005.

No, you are not imagining it: this is America, George W. Bush-style. I'll bet this episode made Karl Rove really sad he isn't a part of the administration anymore.

Texas is the new Chicago

How so, you ask? Well, our Legislature employs curious voting methods, while at the same time insisting that we little people show our left kidney to prove we are not engaging in voter fraud:



Via Fort Bend Democrats.

New York was wonderful!

Here's a pic . . . will write a real post later:



Cloisters Column and Colors, by me.

My Hometown

No, not New York, silly! My other hometown . . . back in Illinois.

Imagine my surprise to see that someone has photographed and written about an store there that is very familiar to me. It is one of those stores, literally on Main Street, that represents what downtown in a small town used to be. The owner is honest and nice and hard-working. The store is useful and important to the people who live there.

Check it out!

New Friends

So I'm at a client's conference for their key outside lawyers who do what I do. It's sort of an odd scenario, in which those of us who compete for their business are all thrown in a room together for about 24 hours of meals and conference-y stuff. However, the conference was great and I learned a lot and enjoyed spending time with my client. But perhaps most surprising to me is that I made some great friends among the competitors I met at this conference, guys with whom I think I will truly keep in touch.

It seems like after a certain age, you stop expecting that you'll make new friends everywhere you go. When you meet kindred spirits with whom you can have stimulating conversation, it is a pleasant surprise.

We stayed downstairs talking for way later than we should have and I'm now debating whether to sleep at all before trying to catch my 6:00 a.m. flight.

Can body chemistry change?

I'm curious about this.

For my entire adult life until about a year ago, I could drink alcoholic beverages without being any worse for the wear unless, of course, I overindulged. But about a year ago, I began noticing that even drinking an innocuous glass of wine left me feeling lethargic in the morning and affected my mood to a considerable degree. When I realized this occurred every time I had a glass of wine and was not an aberration, I decided not to drink except on the rare occasions when it is socially required. But now I'm thinking that even then, I'll find away around it--I simply feel better without it.

Just thoughts . . .

In Texas,

we now have a do-it-yourself death penalty (saves time! no trial!) for run of the mill burglars. See someone in your garage, taking your tools, posing no physical threat whatsoever to you? Take his life! Because it cannot possibly be worth as much as a lug wrench.

Ugh.

Travel Time.

I've been all work and no play--with very little sleep--for the last several days, but today there were filings galore, and now I'm ready to play. There are three days of business trips beginning tomorrow, to Minneapolis and New York. While I adore the clients I'm visiting and look forward to seeing them, I must confess that dressing up and being on my best behavior is one of my least favorite things to do.

After that, there will be three days of pure pleasure in New York City. I was going to be "good" and come home for the weekend, but then I thought, "I'm there and probably won't get back for a while, why not enjoy it?" I need to get back some of that centered vacation feeling and am hoping to find it there.

These are things I saw last time I was in my beloved NYC, in May:

Outdoor Chair Art:



New York Public Library Reading Room:



I'm looking forward to seeing little Freddie, also known as the "Love Pig":



How can you not feel happier just by looking at his picture?

Have a wonderful week, all!

Saturday Links

I just slept for 12 hours (in a row), in what constituted a desperate attempt by my body to stave off exhaustion-induced insanity. I could sleep more, but have to go to work now.

But first, some fascinating (to me, anyway) links:

Via Susan: "Hillbilly How-to: Practical uses for your old computer pieces"

Among my favorites is the monitor-turned-squirrel-cage.

Via Kottke: He moderates a match of Layer Tennis

For people who enjoy art, design and competition--sort of a battle of the creative nerds.

And for a Saturday brain twister . . . via Chris: Which way do you see the dancer spinning?

I see clockwise when I look at it directly . . . cannot imagine her spinning any other way.
But when I read the article and just see the spinning dancer out of the corner of my eye, it appears that she shifts into counterclockwise mode . . . interesting!

Off to brief . . .

Tidbits.

Here's a story that is heartwarming and chilling all at the same time:

Instead of going directly to his mother's kitchen for the home cooking he'd been denied while serving 14 years for a rape he didn't commit, Ronald Gene Taylor's first order of business after getting out of prison Tuesday was to confront the mayor at [Houston] City Hall.

"I think there is a lot of people who have the same problem I had [being convicted for a crime he did not commit, when DNA evidence was available to exonerate them]," he told the standing room only crowd in the City Council chamber. "There are a lot of people who can't get help because they don't have the finances. Something needs to be done."

Recent DNA testing on the rape victim's bed sheet revealed that another man with a history of sexual violence committed the crime.

Mr. Taylor served 14 years for a crime he didn't commit due to the Houston police department lab's "mistake." While he was in prison, 8 of his aunts and uncles died. A fiancee waited for him; she waits for him now in Atlanta.

Oh, and the man who actually committed the rape? He won't serve a day for it, as the D.A.'s office missed the deadline for the grand jury to indict him.

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On a happier note, from the "What a Guy" file, I love finding handy things a person has taken the time to create with no monetary reward in mind. One such thing is this seat selector created by Joe Siegler, a Texas Rangers fan. You can click on any section in the Ballpark at Arlington, where the Rangers play, and see a photo Joe took of the view from that section.

If only they had this for all ballparks!

The world feels really empty to me right now.

On a personal level, anyway. I feel lonely. The source of this feeling is not clearly known to me. Have I driven everyone away? It feels as if the wheels could blow off everything at any moment. Also, I'm going to miss my grade school reunion this weekend because I have to work. I feel as if I am letting down my classmates and expect to regret missing the outing.

More significantly, I might have written before about a dear friend who is serving a lengthy prison term. I learned today that a substantial reason for him getting a terrible defense at trial was that the U.S. Attorney's office pressured his former employer to stop paying his legal fees, under a threat that the company would be indicted, too. This makes me so sick that there are no words. Despite all of the terrible things the Bush Administration has done to our government, I have relied on an abiding faith that this, too, shall pass and that our system was built to withstand such low points in the Executive Branch. But knowing this could happen--that the U.S. Attorney's office would do it, that the company and its lawyers would go along with it--so shakes my faith in our system that I don't know what to do. His trial counsel won a $2.5 million dollar verdict against the company earlier this year for its failure to pay his legal fees. But my friend remains in federal prison.

I'm trying really hard to think positive thoughts right now.

And so a long winter begins.

The Cubs were swept by the Diamondbacks. I have no words, other than those of the late MLB Commissioner Bart Giamatti, speaking about the game of baseball:

It breaks your heart. It is designed to break your heart. The game begins in the spring, when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall alone. You count on it, rely on it to buffer the passage of time, to keep the memory of sunshine and high skies alive, and then just when the days are all twilight, when you need it most, it stops.

(Via Bleed Cubbie Blue)

Be safe this winter, Cubs team. We'll get them next year.

RALLY TIME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Friends, my Cubs need your help. You see, they are down 2-0 in a best of 5 series, and today's game is literally a "must win." I will be in section 218 of that hallowed place we call Wrigley Field, cheering them on with 40-or-so thousand others. If a miracle can happen anywhere, why not at Wrigley Field?

Sing it with me (credit to Steve Goodman for the Cubs anthem):



(Via the Peoria Pundit)

Go, Cubs, go,
Go, Cubs, go,
Hey, Chicago what do you say?
The Cubs are gonna WIN today!

She's going straight to hell, Part II

If there is indeed a "hell,"

Dana Perino is headed directly there:



The "nonverbal cues," as we lawyers like to call them, are extraordinary. Shifting eyes and head, looking down during the worst of the lies, tripping over her words like few White House Press Secretaries have done in recently memory. How do members of the Bush Administration sleep at night?

Sorry I haven't written much:
I'm worried about my Cubs.
I'm in a state of annoyance at work--yet again--despite my new positivity approach.
I'm pretty much in a "If you have nothing nice to say . . . " mode.

Hopefully, I'll snap out of this and be motivated to write again soon.

Some news . . .

The Chicago Cubs are going to the playoffs !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Search term.

Someone came to this site yesterday via this search: "psychiatric care for Cub fans." I know how you feel, my friend, I know how you feel!

Who's that hiding in the corn?

This is a preview of the story I intend to post next:

Please think good thoughts.

You might remember May, whose cause you so generously supported not very long ago. May's dad, who also is a very good friend, is scheduled to have bypass surgery tomorrow, probably around mid-day. The surgery is expected to be routine and successful, but it would be great if you could please keep my friend Dan in your thoughts.

UPDATE: The surgery was both routine and successful--yay!

Have you met Popeye?

If you haven't, you should. These words of his struck a chord for me, and they may for you as well, fellow busy people:

I’m also starting to see how the pain of exhaustion helped distract me from other kinds of pain that were part of my life. It’s not as much as I’m “taking my life back” as much as it feels as though I’m claiming a life that I think part of me thought I really didn’t deserve.

He's a wise one, that Popeye.

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From another corner of our fine country, Raul writes about an evening of unexpected bonding with strangers that began like this:

After a few minutes a very tall girl with long brown hair who I would later learn was a Parsons design student, broke social convention, turned to her fellow benchmates, and said, "My God, wasn't today beautiful." At first she just got a few quiet affirmations,"yeah, gorgeous", "best day yet" etc, but then a young woman in a business suit again broke social convention and revealed personal information: "It was so nice, when I woke up I decided I didn't want to feel miserable about anything, and broke up with my boyfriend. I ditched him at 7:30 in the morning. He didn't know what hit him."

(Via Kottke)

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Sometimes the person singing a song is more important than the song itself. That is certainly true for Dustin. Listen to him sing:



and then read his story. By the way, he won the contest and will be singing the Seventh Inning Stretch at Wrigley Field in a few minutes, just a day past the 10th anniversary of Harry Caray's last singing of that hallowed song.

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Jay has done it again, this time busting the U.S. Treasury with looking to him (or a successful wager on the N.F.L.) for a solution to the growing national debt. That's odd, I thought Republicans were the fiscally responsible ones. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.

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Because I'm better with pictures than words, here is a weekend photo for you:

Please, oh please . . .

tell me that people who are truly evil, who lie, who hurt others, who think only of themselves, will face some sort of karmic retribution at some time.

Please tell me this is true.

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On another note:


This doesn't mean I actually decided to support Kucinich--it reflects the results of this quiz.

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Petraeus wants a pony?

This is one of the most clever things I've seen in a while:

Via Susan at Kiss My Big Blue Butt, we see one of the slides General Petraeus used in his presentations to Congress last week about all the work left to do in Iraq, even though we are "winning" the war that was "mission accomplished" several years ago.

Susan then points us to the genius work of Cleek, who had some fun with this chart.

If you don't click and look at both charts, you'll be sorry!

Something strange.

Near the end of my vacation, I stayed at a pretty little inn on the western side of New Hampshire, near the White Mountains. By the time I arrived, I was feeling tired from a very long day of driving through northern Vermont, Canada and northern New Hampshire. I gratefully settled in for the tasty meal the female innkeeper arranged for me to have despite my late arrival time. Afterward, I wandered into this comfortable and lovely library, craving the opportunity to curl up on the leather couch and read for a little while:



I was startled to see that nearly every book on the shelves of this library is also found in my own home. Nearly my entire collection is here . . . from Ayn Rand to Anne Patchett, from Presidents' biographies to "Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood." Even the small set of DVDs found on one shelf is a subset of the movies found in my home. This wasn't a small library, really--the book-lined shelves were on several walls. So, odd that I felt as if I were looking at my own bookshelves.

When I passed the check-in desk on the way to my room, I asked the innkeepers, "Whose books are those in the library?" And the male innkeeper said, "They are mostly mine. Why?" And of course I explained, but I think we both felt a little awkward about this, for reasons I do not pretend to understand.

At breakfast the next morning, the female innkeeper said how nice it was for them to have a solo traveler, as she and the male innkeeper are single as well and don't meet that many solo travelers. The male innkeeper came out to visit with me after I ate the breakfast he had prepared. He was wearing one of those white chef's jackets that makes every man who wears it look charming, but he would have been cute even without it. We chatted briefly, but I felt shy and wordless and did not do much to prolong the discussion.

My friend S thinks I should follow up in a friendly way, perhaps with an email forwarding some photographs I took of the inn. What do you think?

Oh, and if you are wondering who is sitting at the chess board, here is a close-up:

A Vacation/Political Adventure

As you know, I was very interested in participating in some good old-fashioned New Hampshire primary stumping during my vacation. As you also know, I had some trouble locating the Democratic candidates so I could do this--who knew that campaigning was best conducted in secret? Left with no alternative, I resorted to attending a meeting of a different sort on the last full day of my vacation: I participated in the Seacoast Republican Women's Chili Fest. Actually, "participated" may not be quite accurate, in that I was reluctant to give a dime to any Republican group, so I ate no chili and drank no drinks. Instead, I listened, watched and talked to people.

Here is what I learned:

Well, it worked.

I had hoped to come back from vacation with a plan for my life. I did, though not quite in the way I expected. Instead of a step-by-step plan for my career, which is what I had in mind, I came back with something different.

At work today, more than one person told me I look very rested and peaceful. I've taken many small trips and even a few lengthier vacations before, but never before have people said this upon my return. I spent a good bit of time today thinking about this. If I appear rested and peaceful, my appearance matches the way I feel inside, even after I was reminded this morning of a certain aspect of my employment which I totally despise.

Here's what I came up with: I believe I appear peaceful because I feel in touch with myself again. I feel a renewed sense of confidence that I will survive whatever life throws at me--I once knew this for sure, but had forgotten it. I know there are some things I need to do for myself in the short term which will help me accomplish the things I want in the long term, and I have committed to do those things. I feel more focused. And perhaps most importantly, I feel a zen sense of calmness that comes from knowing the things that bother me most right now do not matter in the long run, that I won't care about them at the end of my life, whenever that may be, and that things truly work out for the best in the end.

I think these girls, whom I saw while photographing a bridge in Vermont, know that:



And I'm hoping their photograph will help me remember it, too.

I'm going to use my last few hours of vacation

actually vacationing . . . but I do have a surprise ending to the trip to share with you! I'll write it on the plane . . .

Happy Sunday!

Sadly, the vacation is winding down.

I have reveled in the fresh air and the trees and the mountains and the interesting people and things to see and the delicious food in Vermont and New Hampshire. My only motivation for returning home right now is that I miss my dogs terribly.

This probably doesn't speak well for my overall level of satisfaction with my life. I have not yet spent as much time on introspection as I wanted to, but I'm hoping these next two days at Lake Winnipesaukee will do the trick.

Here's what I did tonight:

Arrivederci, voce bella.

As I drove away from Shelburne Farms today, there were tears in my eyes.



I was sad to leave, but the tears formed when I heard that Luciano Pavarotti died this morning. Immediately, I found his rendition of Nessun Dorma on my Ipod and listened to it several times. If you haven't heard it, please listen:



Hearing Pavarotti sing live was on the "Life List" I carry around in my head, and now that item will never be checked off. I'm sad for me, and sad for the world because that gorgeous voice is forever silenced.

Heavenly

Today was pretty relaxing. I didn't drive much . . . just to downtown Burlington to check out the pedestrian mall. There I bought my major souvenir of the trip. I'll take a picture when it arrives and post it for you--I'm pretty excited about it! While there, I also had a nice panini sandwich for lunch and eavesdropped on a man talking about where all the police speed traps are around town.

After returning to the Inn, I saw a video of different times in the history of the place. It is truly amazing that it was restored to this beauty after being in a state of near-ruin. I love old buildings! I also took a tour of the grounds. A math teacher was our volunteer leading the tour and she was a great guide. Dinner tonight was a special event. It was a "Vermont Fresh Network" dinner in which there was just one sitting, with multiple courses designed to show off the products grown right here on the grounds and elsewhere in Vermont. I enjoyed it thoroughly, except for the pig's belly, where I lost the battle of mind over matter. We were seated with other guests at a big table and it was nice to have actual dinner conversation after so many meals alone on my trip. And now I'm relaxing with the Cubs game and trying not to remember that I have to leave this lovely place tomorrow. I will definitely come back. I'm considering seeing if a group of friends would like to come here for Labor Day weekend next year, as it would be a wonderful place to spend time with a fun gang of friends.

More soon . . .

I'm not sure if there is a heaven . . .

but if there is, I think I may have stumbled upon it today. You never would have known it from the way my day began--early, with work obligations, which took much longer to wrap up than I would have liked. So it was not until nearly 3:00 p.m. that I was leaving my B&B.

I set off for Bennington, determined to have a quick look at the town and find a pleasant place for a belated lunch. Lunch was very nice--I enjoyed an open-faced crab sandwich at an old train depot with beautiful wood paneling. I quickly viewed the very phallic Bennington Monument, snapped photos of three covered bridges and was on my way north to Burlington. I had already traveled the eastern north-south road, so I chose the western, which took me over the border into New York. The landscape was rolling and beautiful, though not quite as charming as that of Vermont and New Hampshire. Before long, I was within 30 miles of Burlington, and that is where the magic began.

The sun was beginning to set. Finally, I understood where the phrase "purple mountain majesties" comes from, as the western mountain ridge began to appear purple in the shadow of the setting sun. At the top of a hill, I suddenly had the breathtaking view of Lake Champlain, lit until it glowed by the setting sun. I was soon near the inn that was my destination, but I did not realize it and accidentally drove past. After a few miles of tree-lined road, the trees disappeared and I was on a road just a few feet above the lake, with a shipyard on my right and the lake on my left. The view--of the mountains and the water and the setting sun--left me breathless once again. I gazed and snapped photos and gazed some more. Finally, I called the inn for directions, thinking my cup of magic was full and that I should call it a day. But when I went to turn the car around at the shipyard entrance, two beautifully delicate deer were in my path. I looked at them in wonder while they gracefully walked away.

I then found the inn . . . more on that later. But suffice it to say that if a person ever wanted to dream she was a princess, this would be an excellent place for that.

Aw, you guys!

Thanks so much for the sweet birthday wishes! Here is a covered bridge picture to tide you over until I post more:



It is the Cornish-Windsor Bridge, which connects Vermont and New Hampshire over the Connecticut River.

P.S. Color me annoyed: I tried to find out where the Democratic Presidential candidates would be for Labor Day weekend, thinking they might be in New Hampshire campaigning. I wanted to hear them speak in person, and for obvious reasons, they rarely bother to come to Texas. I could find nothing on their web sites about them being here, other than that Barack Obama's people would have a table at the Hopkinton Fair. I attended the fair on Saturday and searched exhaustively, but found no table. Imagine my disappointment when I learned that Hillary (and Bill) were at Hopkinton the day after I was there and that Barack was in New Hampshire today. ARGH!

What a wonderful birthday.

I awoke early, knocked out a bit of work and then hit the road. Visited a flea market about which I was curious. There I bought four baseball cards for Cubs players, which cost a total of 70 cents. The old man who sold them to me said, "You smell really good," which for some reason made me smile more than once today. I enjoyed talking with another old man about the baseball bats he was selling, which included an old Roger Maris model. We agreed that we both honor him as the true home run record holder, notwithstanding any who claim to have passed him.

Brunch was at a maple sugar place . . . it reminded me of Pennsylvania breakfasts when we visited my mother's extended family, which were marked by a holder with six different syrup flavors on the table. Even the coffee beans had some sort of maple roasted flavor. The afternoon was spent seeing how many of southern New Hampshire's covered bridges I could locate and photograph. A few proved elusive, but many were captured.

There was the smell of pine and the occasional smell of animals as I drove through hills and even one little mountain. The air became crisper and cooler and ultimately I crossed a river and entered Vermont. The curved road gave way to a driveway and a white New England kind of house. Inside, there were wood floors and comfortable chairs and a nice innkeeper with a faint New Jersey accent, efficiently showing me to my room.

After a brief rest and freshening up, I stepped out into the dining room and took a seat at a round wooden tavern table. My table was perfectly situated across from the kitchen entrance and a small bar, providing the perfect vantage point from which to watch the husband and wife innkeepers tend to their dinner guests. I settled in with the Sunday New York Times and enjoyed a few pleasantries with the couple at the next table. When I took my first sip of wine, I quietly gave thanks for all of the wonderful things the past year has brought. In my next breath, I vowed to make this year count, to be a little nicer, a little more thoughtful, to do well at the things I do and to squeeze the most living that can possibly be lived out of a 12-month period.

And now I'm cozily curled up in a four-poster bed, smelling wood smoke and watching the leaping flames of a fire and feeling the satisfaction of a day well-lived.