blaugra

Obama, night 12?

I dreamed about Barack last nite.  (sing to "Spiderweb" tune)

I had a guest house at the White House but I was in the kitchen when President Obama came home from meetings with NAFTA or NATO or something like that.  He took off his jacket and loosened his tie.  His shirt had splotches of sweat on it. 

NOTE:  THIS IS NOT A PRESIDENTIAL PORNO.  Not that kind of dream.  It was just very vivid and detailed.

Ok, keep reading.

He asked for a drink and someone ran to the large cooler full of Snapples and Honest Teas and Nantucket Nectars and got him a Big Cran and he gulped it down. Wow, he must really be depleted because drinking an entire Big Cran is like, 2.5 servings.  That's a big tall drink of...sugar.  Governing is hard work.

The kitchen staff whispered to me, "You're not supposed to look at Mr. President unless he addresses you first."

So I turned my attention to a construction paper craft project on the table in front of me.  When I could, I stole a look at him.  Then said, "Mr. President, you look really tired, and it's only been a week."

He really did look like shit.  He had dark circles under his eyes, and I already mentioned the sweat. 

Obama looked at me, did not smile, threw his jacket [which a servant had quickly steamed the wrinkles out of]  on and said, "I gotta get back out there."  And he exited briskly into an old black VW Rabbit diesel which one of the staff had started up for him.  He had to hunch over to steer it, it was way too small a car for his frame.  I ran after him.  "Mr. President!  Take care of yourself, it's a jungle out there!"  I was stopped by two female guards in uniform, I think they were two of the cops from Reno 911. 

This was the first time I have ever dreamed about a politician.

p.s. photo is part of this fine photographer's light graffiti work.  watch her video of how she does it.

I really do love them and I fully realize that I will become even more like them someday if I'm lucky.

My parents called from Florida to tell me that they had made an unscheduled one-night stop somewhere near Jacksonville.  This wasn't on the detailed hand-written-on-yellow-paper itinerary my dad had given me so they thought I should know where they would be for the next 12 hours.

Well, the actual reason was- the night before, I was worried about them traveling in the ice so I had called the Holiday Inn Express ("They're quite nice!") somewhere down south to see that they got in safely, but they hadn't checked in yet which I thought was unusual since it was 9:00 PM and of course neither of them had their cell phones on.  So I told the front desk guy that I would call back later.  Then, when they checked in the front desk guy (Jonathan) told my parents that a woman had called but didn't leave a message. 

I never learn.  This sent them over the edge. 

When I called back an hour later, Jonathan said, "Oh, yes, they checked in, and....I- I- I- told them someone called, ma'am, but I didn't have a ...message...so...."  OH GREAT.  I'm just imagining the near freak-out that poor Jonathan must have witnessed. 

"Would you like me to connect you to their room?"  Well duh.  Maybe Jonathan's not the brightest bulb in the garden.   "Yes, please. Thank you so much."    "You're welcome, ma'am."  Oh, that southern hospitality always takes me by surprise. I'm getting used to being called "ma'am"- I don't like it, but I can live with it - but saying "you're welcome"-  that's just so...pleasant.

My mom answers the room phone on half a ring with an elevated "HELL-OOOO?"  

"Hi mom, I just -" 

"WHAT'S WRONG?!" 

"Nothing's wrong, I just wanted to..."

"Well you scared us half to death, now your father can't get to sleep, you didn't leave a message, what's going on?"

"I, um, just wanted to make sure you got there OK because of all the ice and related accidents.  That's all."

Mom's voice turns into a soothing grandmotherly drawl, "Oh yes, dearie, the drive was fine, a few accidents but none involving us, okayyyy?"

"That's good.  Here's a question for you.  WHY DON'T YOU KEEP YOUR CELL PHONES ON?!"

Mom's response:  "Well, we had them on in the car for half an hour!"

Half an hour?  Care to tell me when that window is going to be?  Or am I just supposed to guess?   Other people their age have mastered the iPhone so I don't know why a basic cell phone with a charger is posing such a challenge.

"We only turn the phones on when we need them."  Aaaagh, we will be having this fruitless argument about telecommunications forever.

So that's why mom called last night, just in case I needed to get in touch with them because the 30-minute cell-phone-on window had closed.

PLUS she had a funny story that she said was the other reason they wanted to call right away.  The front desk clerk, John, at their hotel in Florida is from a town near our homes in PA.  "He went to West Bupkus High School!  Isn't that funny!"  and then they went to dinner at a place John recommended and "the waiter's name was ALSO JOHN and he was ALSO from Pennsylvania!  He went to NORTH Bupkus high school!  We told John the waiter about John at the hotel and told them they should be friends."

That's my parents, making the world a smaller place.

LAME!

My back still hurts from shoveling. 

I really like eggs.

I am addicted to French Vanilla non-dairy non-fat creamer even though I have read the ingredients and yes, they are gross.  I still love it.

So lame.

Obama day 10

I love that our new administration is blogging.

I heard that the press was not too ecstatic about it, as they see this communication outlet as trying to eclipse the job of the free press. Is that the issue?  I'm trying to accurately remember what their issue was.

We need a free press, we need the Washington Post, but it's good to have an easy go-to place that's without media bias (ideally) with presidential statements and transcripts of briefings presented in a clean, nicely designed forum.  Then we need the press and smart people to ask all the questions and poke holes in the squeaky clean rhetoric. So I dig it.

What I don't love - I'm still not comfortable with the middle east. And that's saying a mouthful.  Meanwhile the Palestinians in Gaza broke the cease-fire agreement a few days ago and again Israel fought back.  Now, whatchu gonna do?   

crossing the lines

I was with my hair stylist/colorist Jewel-Lee last evening.  Not only is she phenomenal at everything she does (if I ever look horrible from the neck up it's because of me and my inability to apply product correctly or remember to take my vitamins or sleep) she has a strategic plan for my hair.

We discussed the short-term hair goals, and then we had a long term planning session about what to do when the hair turns grey.  Which won't happen for a while but now I understand how to make that transition without shaving my head. It was an excellent business meeting.

Then a psycho client came in and sat next to me while I was gettin' my hairs done.  She had misapplied her bronzer and was wearing way too many metallic fabrics.  She talked a blue streak.  She started in on her hormones and how her hot flashes were wakening her at 3 a.m. and she looked at me and said, "you know what I mean, right?  At least the hormones are making my hair grow faster, they gotta be good for something, you know what I mean."

NO I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN AND YOU ARE SCARING ME.

Then she started blabbing about her love life with a married man and sexual problems and after she finally left I said to Jewel-Lee, "What the fuck?  Are you a sex therapist on the side or something?" 

Apparently psycho client loves talking to her hair stylist and treating her like a BFF and advisor and therapist.   Jewel-Lee told me that psycho client even calls her at home to ask for her advice and talk about her life. 

So I just have to put this out there.  Your hair person is - unless your mother or best friend does your hair - primarily a hair professional.  Secondarily, you have some kind of relationship which can run the range of "I like you and I let you massage my scalp" to "We share the same taste in movies" to "Here are photos of my wedding!" to "I'm inviting you to my botox party."  But she/he is not Delilah or Dr. Laura.

I told Jewel-Lee she needed to end that shit, because it really irritated her.  "Plus,"I said, "She implied that I'm older than I really am and I don't like that."  Hmm. Maybe I need to have a botox party. ha.

Jewel-Lee says the psycho client insults the girls all the time and once had the receptionist in tears.  That ain't right.  "Don't you do the hair of any psychologists or social workers?  You can connect them."  Keep some therapist business cards next to the Vogue magazines.  Seriously.

Fuckin' Facebook

I've been too busy to blog and it's making me miserable.  I've only had time to scrawl illegible phrases in a journal. 

Adding to my misery is Facebook.  I know that I can just turn it off, I know I can ignore every tag and request, but, I don't. 

What started out as fun and games and another way to keep in touch with people, especially people under age 30, is now something I need to check every day so I don't miss something and I don't unknowingly ignore someone.  

My high school class is using it to get back in touch and say things like, "After 24 years, you look GREAT!" so it has replaced all the other lameass alumni networks.  Yes, I do it too. 

People are using it to promote a cause, round up community members for the common good.  I do this too.  I think Facebook is great for this purpose, despite all its flaws. 

So when Facebook becomes passe' in about a year, what new network will start up that we will have to join and give all kinds of personal information to, all over again? Or is it here for the long haul (3 more years?)  Or are we moving toward universal life streaming where all these apps converge and become a big monster of tweets and linked-ins and faces and flickrs and vloggers....AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!

And then, there's just so much SHARING going on.  I do this too.  But all my worlds, all my tidy compartments of life, are colliding.  Not blending together, just kind of merging in a messy way.    And I've invited and participated in all of it.  I have no one to blame but myself.  We're closing in on being 4 degrees away from everyone instead of 6.

And then the OVER SHARING.  Instead of learning about someone little by little, some people are just putting it all out there. 

Alright.  Let's use this as an example.  Remember 10 years ago when people would start email chains in the office that asked "What's your favorite color?"  "What was your first concert?"  "What do you think of me?"   And I answered all the questions and read all the answers and laughed and shared.   This was done between friends and acquaintances, people you knew already, and were just trying to break some ice or come up with distractions to make the day go by faster and get some self-reinforcement that you were a cool neato worthwhile person.

Then with the blog memes, these are similar, I've done them, too.  Why?  Because I'm a follower.

On Facebook what has been in heavy circulation this week is the "tell me 16 random things about yourself."   I was tagged by this cool broad, I thought it was fun, I revealed random things like, "I hate grape flavored popsicles."  And someone would respond, "OMG, I HATE GRAPE FLAVORED POPSICLES TOO!"  Wow, we have so much in common.  Let's be friends but only in this network.  I've embellished this a little, and if you're also my friend on Facebook and read my thing then you can call my bluff. 

AND THEN came around "25 things about myself."  Acch, this is exhausting.  Yet I can't turn away. I'm intrigued. 

Some people took this as a challenge to reveal 25 of their innermost thoughts, dreams, sins, guiding life principles.  Some people answered with things like, "I've been thinking about sexual fetishes..."  and "I fight daily with all the voices in my head,"  and others stated the obvious, "My family is the most important thing in the world to me," and others confessed things like "I have a pierced third nipple."

Made me feel pretty superficial that I just mentioned that I don't like grape flavored popsicles.  

What, pray tell, all you psychologists and trend watchers, is going on here?   And why am I having such a difficult time processing it all?   When is all this sharing going to implode?  Are non-facebook users happier?   

Obama-nation, day 2

I'm not happy about closing and releasing prison camps in "Gitmo."  What are they gonna do with all the suspected terrorists, who are now even angrier at the U.S. since they've been detained for so long?  

Not happy about his commanding Israel to cease fire in Gaza in time for inauguration.  I get why, but I don't think it's right.  The whole situation is fubar, from the beginning.   Israel has every right to defend herself against the constant terrorist attacks of Hamas.  More on that issue later.  It has taken over my house so I live and breathe it every day.

p.s. later this day...

I've decided to implement a regular weekly (or more often) feature during Obama's first 100 days in office.   It will be one thing his administration does that I like, and one thing I don't like.  I will be putting this in my own half-assed, biased, somewhat glossed-over suburban American point of view, but I think this is exactly what the new administration wants to see, people getting more involved.  I'm not afraid of my views being criticized or challenged so let it rip if you disagree.

Therefore...

This is one thing I liked: Late day rulings of Bush were put on hold on the new Obama day.  Stuff like...W. wanted to revise the Endangered Species act.  I don't know what the hell he had against gray wolves, maybe a wolf bit his daddy or something.  Anyway, Barack is saving the wolves, at least for now.

 

still running high

Just after the inaugural swearing-in yesterday, I called my parents.  My dad answered.  He was crying.

"I am so overwhelmed with emotion, I can't even talk about it now."  Then he proceeded to talk about it.

Cleared his throat and attempted to pull himself together.  But I didn't quite get a grasp on what he was saying.  It was about the speeches and the momentousness and feeling overcome and I rarely see my dad get choked up.  Wait, this wasn't even choked up.  This was tears flowing.

I don't know too many people who were unmoved by witnessing the event, including me.  Well, the republican I mentioned below was unmoved, even though it's one of those "Where were you when..." moments of your life.  

When your parent cries, it's one of the most unnerving things. I hope he'll tell me why.

For me, it was after Obama's address, the words of Elizabeth Alexander that brought it all together in a quiet moment of electricity.  It was a Walt Whitman moment.

I'm going to rip out the words that I loved, perhaps this is cruel to the writer but I felt it was a little choppy anyway.

"Say it plain, that many have died for this day. Sing the names of the dead who brought us here, who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges, picked the cotton and the lettuce, built brick by brick the glittering edifices they would then keep clean and work inside of.

"What if the mightiest word is love, love beyond marital, filial, national. Love that casts a widening pool of light. Love with no need to preempt grievance.

"In today's sharp sparkle, this winter air, anything can be made, any sentence begun."

If you were emotionally high, verklempt, tell me why. 

Jesu Obama

The other day a frustrated republican said to me,  "Why is everyone treating Obama like he's Jesus?  Like he's their savior?  He's just like all the others, he's nothing special."

I understand where that person is coming from, it's easy to get frustrated and cynical with all the hype about change and hope and audacious-ness.

But there are some similarities between Barack H. Obama and what we know about Jesus H. Christ:

• Both are dark-skinned men.
• Their speeches move nations.
• Each were born into modest means and moved around a lot as a child.
• They are both teachers with apt pupils.
• Neither is self-righteous nor without sin.
• Both leaders talk about hope, love, healing.

I told the Republican - and we both agree that Jesus was an inspiring rabbi and not a god who makes every touchdown or rap music grammy award possible - that's where the similarities end between the two men.

He said, "Yeah, but it's like a cult for some people!"  And I said to this person:  Push aside your frustration and cynicism for just a minute - what is the need that Obama fulfills, what makes us cry and celebrate today?  For one, it feels like HE needs US.  Everyone wants to feel needed and relevant.  Eh - I couldn't sell him on that feeling or anything else.  But I feel good. 

I call myself fortunate to be alive and inspired every day this year so far.

On the dark side

The throbbing pain in my ears intensified.  All I could hear was an Irish reel and bells and electronic explosions.  I hadn't blinked in several minutes. I dug my phone out of my bag to check the time and realized two hours had passed and I was late for my meet-up! 

I had met two friendly elderly men, seated on either side of me, one who trusted me enough to watch his chair, with his players club card still in the machine, while he relieved his bladder and another who took out his wallet two or three times.  This guy was a nice grandpa type who ordered not whisky sours from the roving waitresses but hot chocolate. 

He distracted me from my own bright lights as I noticed him tapping on the glass of his Super Dublin Jackpot (or whatever it was called) slot machine.  What the hell is he doing?  You're supposed to hit the buttons, not the display!  I turned and looked at him like he was a freak so he explained he was doing a weird superstitious thing to get the spinning thing to stop on the pot o' gold bonus because that's what would set the penny machine into auto-spin overdrive mode, racking up the credits and making rocket noises.  I could barely hear him. We had to yell at each other.  We started watching each other's play and cheering together.  He could tell me how much each spin won before I figured it out, and before the little screen finished counting up the points.  He was a nice man who decided it was time walk away from a losing machine to find another in the sea of thousands of slot machines. 

Waaah, I lost my new friend.  But I kept playing. 

I'm so thirsty.  So thirsty.  How long has it been since I've peed?  I remembered I had a bottle of water, and that's when I checked the clock and decided that even though I was down $12, I should go meet up with my family at our designated spot, Betty's Diner. 

We were at beautiful Mount Airy but it was not this old place (remember the song?):

 

It is now an evil monster that haunts my dreams.