For what seems like the past two years this country has been considering who to choose for the next president of the United States. I saw my first roadside sign featuring a potential candidate long before most people had decided to even to run for the office.(No, they did'nt make the final cut) I knew then that it would be a long, long, LONG campaign. I also knew, considering the political temperament over the past few years that things would likely get ugly.
And that is what I just don't understand. Why are people so vicious in their attacks on the current president, as well as the potential presidential candidates? While I don't agree with everything our current president has done, I still believe he deserves our respect. He was elected twice, as was his predecessor, who I had far greater issues with. It surprised me that this former president could seem to do no wrong, despite having scandal, after investigation, after legal proceedings after impeachment. At times his private life made public would make any tabloid editor drool with happy anticipation. Yet despite my personal dislike for all of that, I still believe that he deserved the respect for the office he held. During Mr. Clinton's tenure some positive things were done that he deserves credit for, he did and still does have an amazing gift for public speaking, and is a natural diplomat. Of course he made as well as all who have gone before him some very poor decisions.
Why in the race for the "big seat" is everyone so polarized? If some say that they are for one candidate, or express, as I have admiration for something a candidate has said, even though they are not my voting choice, do some immediately decide that I am either a complete political idiot, or someone out of touch with reality. Therefore I tend to avoid most politically minded conversations for the potential argument that could ensue.
The current president has made both good and some very bad decisions, yet he has received none of the respect that usually goes with the office. While he's not the most eloquent of speakers, but he sure can handle a press conference. In comparison to his immediate predecessor, the sitting president's private life is rather boring. He sometimes makes decisions that seem short-sighted and often goes against his advisers when making decisions. Sometimes he's proven wrong in those choices, but he is also often right. Somehow the right decisions get no attention from his critics, only the wrong ones. Mr. Bush has had to make unpopular decisions and quite difficult ones as some of the situations faced were unprecedented. Of course every president since Washington has found themselves thus, and so will whomever we elect in November.
We can "If I was president, I'd do this" all day long, but for what end? We elected them to make those hard decisions so we don't have to. And of course when making hard decisions, one is likely to upset someone along the way. that is why they are called H-A-R-D decisions, because of the potential, often unknown consequences.
One would hope that people would stop listening to the nastiness, the half truths, the innuendos, the slanted polling, the talking heads in the media and simply look at each candidate and the merits of what they hope to bring to the table. By looking at their views on important issues, their voting record, if they have held legislative office, what they have written, business decisions they have made, and lastly and least importantly personal lifestyle choices.
Maybe if we didn't have a plethora of pundits on every media station trying to tell us how to think the decision of choosing the president would be easier. Of course it would be nice if Congress would enact a law limiting all the campaign hullabaloo that gets worse and worse every year,. But then I remember that they take regular dips into that murky campaigning pool themselves. And I guess that some journalism graduates are thankful for the job that reporting on the circus that is politics allows. I just wish this circus would at least have a decent high wire act.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
It's a bird! It's a plane! Oh! it's just rain.
Yes rain, something we have seen very little of over the past couple of years. We in the deep south have been under what the experts call a drought. That doesn't mean that we have been completely rain free, but instead have had brief forays of raindrops now and then, usually not at my house.
On the plus side the lawn only needs mowed ever couple of weeks or so. On the down side, what few flowers I planted this year are either already dead or wish they were.
Currently the remnants of Fay, a former tropical storm with the moving speed of an ancient tortoise, is making her way through my area. We have had on and off rain since yesterday evening, some of it a bit on the heavy side. Tornadoes have made brief appearances south of us, but thankfully leaving little damage. We won't be getting the flooding that Florida received, thank goodness, but there will be little flooding in a few areas. Especially as our ground is so unused to being wet.
I had to run an errand this evening after dark in a downpour. I was very thankful that most of the other motorists on the road were going fairly slowly as visibility was far less then ideal.
It is a grand thing to hear something I've not heard much of lately, the pitter-patter of raindrops outside my window.
Thus ends Sylvie's personal weather forcast.
On the plus side the lawn only needs mowed ever couple of weeks or so. On the down side, what few flowers I planted this year are either already dead or wish they were.
Currently the remnants of Fay, a former tropical storm with the moving speed of an ancient tortoise, is making her way through my area. We have had on and off rain since yesterday evening, some of it a bit on the heavy side. Tornadoes have made brief appearances south of us, but thankfully leaving little damage. We won't be getting the flooding that Florida received, thank goodness, but there will be little flooding in a few areas. Especially as our ground is so unused to being wet.
I had to run an errand this evening after dark in a downpour. I was very thankful that most of the other motorists on the road were going fairly slowly as visibility was far less then ideal.
It is a grand thing to hear something I've not heard much of lately, the pitter-patter of raindrops outside my window.
Thus ends Sylvie's personal weather forcast.
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Water Glasses and Other Bouncable Items
I have two cats Luna-tic aka Jabba the Kitty, and Chernobyll aka dammitcat. They are ordinary cats, in the fact that they can render a litter box into a toxic waste dump in three days max, they are very picky in their choice of kibbles, and in Chernobyll's case breakfast MUST include a spoonful of gooshy food. They sleep in all the best places, the couch, the love seat, your shirt that you had just set on the bed to wear for the day. And they shed, well at least Luna-tic does. Just wear black and come to my house for an hour. You will be wearing some of her snow white hair on your black clothes within five minutes of entering my house.
Not long after Luna-tic got old enough, she discovered the perfect way to people up. For my older daughter it was using an ear as a pacifier. The cat is now four years old and still tries to sneak in an ear fix on Ashley now and then. The younger daughter, keeps her door firmly closed against all kitty intruders when she sleeps. Smart girl. For me, ear sucking wasn't going to work, because I wasn't going to let that cat anywhere near my earlobes. So being the determined feline that she was, she figured out a way to get me out of bed and into the kitchen to fix her breakfast without fail. She bats my glasses around aiming to knock them off the nightstand. When Chernobyll came into our lives, Luna-tic taught Nobyll that nice little trick. One or both cats will be in my room every morning, making sure they hear the "alarm" they have set off. I haven't set a real alarm clock in years, unless I have to get up at some ungodly middle of the night hour. That is quite rare however.
Chernobyll liked the wake up Meowmie game so much that she decided to take it further. Any object is fair game to what I have dubbed "bounce". She'll knock off anything off my nightstand, my desk or the coffee table. She once knocked off a baker's lamp off my overhead shelf onto my bed, missing me by inches. Her favorite target however is water glasses. The fuller they are the better she likes it. She never targets glasses when people are in the room. She considers them fair game however, if someone makes the mistake of leaving it on the coffee table for awhile. I try to make sure that all glasses are in the kitchen, preferably in the dishwasher before bed, but every now and then one will escape my notice. Mainly because my college aged kids go to bed after I do. When that happens, it is almost certain that Chernobyll will go glass tipping.
Of course the glass will still have some liquid in it. Of course I am a light sleeper and hear the sound of glass making that sound it makes when it merely tips over onto the coffee table surface or manages to hit the floor. Of course I also hear the splash of liquid. And then I yell Chernobyll's nickname and get up to clean up the mess she's left once again.
Not long after Luna-tic got old enough, she discovered the perfect way to people up. For my older daughter it was using an ear as a pacifier. The cat is now four years old and still tries to sneak in an ear fix on Ashley now and then. The younger daughter, keeps her door firmly closed against all kitty intruders when she sleeps. Smart girl. For me, ear sucking wasn't going to work, because I wasn't going to let that cat anywhere near my earlobes. So being the determined feline that she was, she figured out a way to get me out of bed and into the kitchen to fix her breakfast without fail. She bats my glasses around aiming to knock them off the nightstand. When Chernobyll came into our lives, Luna-tic taught Nobyll that nice little trick. One or both cats will be in my room every morning, making sure they hear the "alarm" they have set off. I haven't set a real alarm clock in years, unless I have to get up at some ungodly middle of the night hour. That is quite rare however.
Chernobyll liked the wake up Meowmie game so much that she decided to take it further. Any object is fair game to what I have dubbed "bounce". She'll knock off anything off my nightstand, my desk or the coffee table. She once knocked off a baker's lamp off my overhead shelf onto my bed, missing me by inches. Her favorite target however is water glasses. The fuller they are the better she likes it. She never targets glasses when people are in the room. She considers them fair game however, if someone makes the mistake of leaving it on the coffee table for awhile. I try to make sure that all glasses are in the kitchen, preferably in the dishwasher before bed, but every now and then one will escape my notice. Mainly because my college aged kids go to bed after I do. When that happens, it is almost certain that Chernobyll will go glass tipping.
Of course the glass will still have some liquid in it. Of course I am a light sleeper and hear the sound of glass making that sound it makes when it merely tips over onto the coffee table surface or manages to hit the floor. Of course I also hear the splash of liquid. And then I yell Chernobyll's nickname and get up to clean up the mess she's left once again.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Weightlifting
Ok I just did mention that I need to "de-slugify" my body, especially as it is increasingly Post-op. I have discovered a new weight-lifting method. Well that isn't exactly true, it is one I used to do quite regularly years ago. This method takes no special equipment, no new expensive wardrobe, just a sense of humor and a baby.
Yes a baby, preferably six month old or older. Why that age? Because of the weight! In my granddaughter's case, seven months old of age means 22 pounds and counting of amazing, yet quite hefty cuteness. All you need to do is lift her quickly over your head as many times as your arms hold out. Believe me you'll tire of the game long before she will. Just when your arms fell like they are about to fall off your shoulders from sheer exhaustion, you can then put the baby on your knee for your cool down.
That cool down is a simple exercise. Just bounce your knees up and down with the baby sitting on them. Do this for at least one minute intervals. Hold the baby at least by the waist as they tend to be wobbly or discover something worth attempting to lunge off your lap after.
When your calves are now jiggly masses, you can stop your exercise routine for the day. All that is left is some stretching. You can accomplish that by picking up the toys she has strewn all over your living room. How such a small person can make a mess covering such a wide area is a special skill quickly mastered by children.
Now, I have another excuse to avoid that exercise bike for a day.
Yes a baby, preferably six month old or older. Why that age? Because of the weight! In my granddaughter's case, seven months old of age means 22 pounds and counting of amazing, yet quite hefty cuteness. All you need to do is lift her quickly over your head as many times as your arms hold out. Believe me you'll tire of the game long before she will. Just when your arms fell like they are about to fall off your shoulders from sheer exhaustion, you can then put the baby on your knee for your cool down.
That cool down is a simple exercise. Just bounce your knees up and down with the baby sitting on them. Do this for at least one minute intervals. Hold the baby at least by the waist as they tend to be wobbly or discover something worth attempting to lunge off your lap after.
When your calves are now jiggly masses, you can stop your exercise routine for the day. All that is left is some stretching. You can accomplish that by picking up the toys she has strewn all over your living room. How such a small person can make a mess covering such a wide area is a special skill quickly mastered by children.
Now, I have another excuse to avoid that exercise bike for a day.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
As the flab turns
Ok, it is officially 65 days since my surgery. I am doing much better physically and the absence of my uterus and it's squatters is not missed at all. My energy levels are slowly returning to normal, and I just get "pulls" or twinges when I move contrary to my healing tissues.
However I am still a slug. I look like one, and I feel like one. Loose fitting clothes is my preferred wardrobe choice. I wore jeans today and felt most uncomfortable. Ok, they were 7 years old and likely not for my body type anyway, but did it help me feel better? NO!
I need to get my butt on my exercise bike daily, and when August starts, begin to de-slug my belly. Oh heck, I need a drill sargeant, dragging me out of bed, yelling at me when I order french fries or head towards the candy machine at work, and forcing me to be a work-out queen.
Anyone interested in the job? The pay sucks, but I'm getting desperate, I can't get motivated.
sigh.
However I am still a slug. I look like one, and I feel like one. Loose fitting clothes is my preferred wardrobe choice. I wore jeans today and felt most uncomfortable. Ok, they were 7 years old and likely not for my body type anyway, but did it help me feel better? NO!
I need to get my butt on my exercise bike daily, and when August starts, begin to de-slug my belly. Oh heck, I need a drill sargeant, dragging me out of bed, yelling at me when I order french fries or head towards the candy machine at work, and forcing me to be a work-out queen.
Anyone interested in the job? The pay sucks, but I'm getting desperate, I can't get motivated.
sigh.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
I said I'd be old when this happened.
Yes, it's true, I did say this.
When my oldest child graduated from high school, I was asked, "Do you feel old now?" To which, my snappy come-back jumped into gear and replied. "No. But when my youngest graduates, then I will feel old." Well, here it is, seven years later, and in a few days that youngest child will be all dressed up in a bright blue cap and gown and receiving her high school diploma. So I ask myself now. Do I feel old?
Actually I don't. I have discovered that old is in the eye of the individual. I have met youthful 80 year olds and ancient 20 year olds. To me age is less in the condition of our bodies, and more in the way we view ourselves as a person. I don 't need or want botox, liposuction, or breast augmentation to make me feel young. I just had surgery for authentic medical reasons thank you very much, undergoing more just to "make my self all purtified" is just more pain then I want to undergo. I do color my hair, but leave a rather large white streak right in front. The color helps hide my pre-mature grey, and the white streak left behind is left for two reasons. First, it is distinctive, and second, covering it up, means I have to do so every three weeks, my hair grows that fast. I'm too lazy to do it that often. I could leave off the color, but I'm a hairdresser by trade, so I do color it. It's been a nice variety of shades and hues. In fact my hair hasn't been its natural color in a very long time. Yep, I admit it, my hair is addicted to pigment.
My body just is what allows me to walk around this old earth. So I have stretch marks and a pillow belly. Big deal. I still have a sense of humor, the ability to appreciate and enjoy life, the knowledge that my body works quite well for what I've put it through, and enough creative juices a flowing to keep my brain from getting bored. Now if I could only keep those pesky chin whiskers from cropping up.
So when will I feel old? Ask me again when my first, and currently only grandchild graduates high school, in 18 years.
When my oldest child graduated from high school, I was asked, "Do you feel old now?" To which, my snappy come-back jumped into gear and replied. "No. But when my youngest graduates, then I will feel old." Well, here it is, seven years later, and in a few days that youngest child will be all dressed up in a bright blue cap and gown and receiving her high school diploma. So I ask myself now. Do I feel old?
Actually I don't. I have discovered that old is in the eye of the individual. I have met youthful 80 year olds and ancient 20 year olds. To me age is less in the condition of our bodies, and more in the way we view ourselves as a person. I don 't need or want botox, liposuction, or breast augmentation to make me feel young. I just had surgery for authentic medical reasons thank you very much, undergoing more just to "make my self all purtified" is just more pain then I want to undergo. I do color my hair, but leave a rather large white streak right in front. The color helps hide my pre-mature grey, and the white streak left behind is left for two reasons. First, it is distinctive, and second, covering it up, means I have to do so every three weeks, my hair grows that fast. I'm too lazy to do it that often. I could leave off the color, but I'm a hairdresser by trade, so I do color it. It's been a nice variety of shades and hues. In fact my hair hasn't been its natural color in a very long time. Yep, I admit it, my hair is addicted to pigment.
My body just is what allows me to walk around this old earth. So I have stretch marks and a pillow belly. Big deal. I still have a sense of humor, the ability to appreciate and enjoy life, the knowledge that my body works quite well for what I've put it through, and enough creative juices a flowing to keep my brain from getting bored. Now if I could only keep those pesky chin whiskers from cropping up.
So when will I feel old? Ask me again when my first, and currently only grandchild graduates high school, in 18 years.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Oh Energy Where Art Thou?
I know I was warned that one of the slowest things to recover following my surgery would be my stamina, but I honestly didn't quite believe it would be that long, or that much energy. Sure the first few days was to be expected, I was still on pain medication most of the time, and moving around was slow, very slow.
The second week was better as I could get up and around a bit more and even fold some laundry. By Saturday I had braved a short car trip to pick up my husband, and I put all other shoppers in danger as I test drove those little motorized carts at the grocery store.
Just a note for future reference. Using those carts at a Super Wal-Mart on a Saturday afternoon is NOT a good idea.
On Monday my doc gave me the green light to return to work on June 3, and to slowly, (and he emphasised slowly) increase my activity level and what I could pick up. It had been reduced to five pounds or less. Of course I immediately began to test my limits. The next day I did two loads of laundry and cleaned my bathroom. Yeah, I spent most of the next day reclining on various reclining pieces of furniture. Thursday I went to Sears for laundry bags. They did not have those little motorized carts. By the time I had found the bags, purchased the bags, gone to the bathroom (hey I had bladder surgery too, it doesn't like to wait) and walked back to my car I was beat. THEN I went to meet some co-workers for lunch. I spent most of the next day, being generally inactive.
Today I had a wedding party, bride and mom, over to the house so I could do their hair. Yeah I know it's too early to do that work, but I had promised her a year ago I would do it , and I try not to go back on my promises. It didn't take that long, they were thrilled, and I was soon flopped on my couch watching What Not to Wear reruns. Then I took my daughter and granddaughter with me to the grocery store. I needed a few things. My daughter soon realized her purpose for accompanying me. She was the pick up and carry-er. We discovered the little motorized cart for shoppers when we were checking out, drat. So back home to the couch I went, and she fixed dinner. Good daughter.
Thankfully I am generally improving though not as quickly as I would like. That is most likely a good thing as I want to be completely healed up. Even when I return to work in a few weeks, my boss insists on me starting out a few hours a day and working up to my full, burning my candle at both ends with a blow torch speed, over a couple of weeks. I just hope someone remembers to fill that blowtorch with propane for me. I'm fresh out.
The second week was better as I could get up and around a bit more and even fold some laundry. By Saturday I had braved a short car trip to pick up my husband, and I put all other shoppers in danger as I test drove those little motorized carts at the grocery store.
Just a note for future reference. Using those carts at a Super Wal-Mart on a Saturday afternoon is NOT a good idea.
On Monday my doc gave me the green light to return to work on June 3, and to slowly, (and he emphasised slowly) increase my activity level and what I could pick up. It had been reduced to five pounds or less. Of course I immediately began to test my limits. The next day I did two loads of laundry and cleaned my bathroom. Yeah, I spent most of the next day reclining on various reclining pieces of furniture. Thursday I went to Sears for laundry bags. They did not have those little motorized carts. By the time I had found the bags, purchased the bags, gone to the bathroom (hey I had bladder surgery too, it doesn't like to wait) and walked back to my car I was beat. THEN I went to meet some co-workers for lunch. I spent most of the next day, being generally inactive.
Today I had a wedding party, bride and mom, over to the house so I could do their hair. Yeah I know it's too early to do that work, but I had promised her a year ago I would do it , and I try not to go back on my promises. It didn't take that long, they were thrilled, and I was soon flopped on my couch watching What Not to Wear reruns. Then I took my daughter and granddaughter with me to the grocery store. I needed a few things. My daughter soon realized her purpose for accompanying me. She was the pick up and carry-er. We discovered the little motorized cart for shoppers when we were checking out, drat. So back home to the couch I went, and she fixed dinner. Good daughter.
Thankfully I am generally improving though not as quickly as I would like. That is most likely a good thing as I want to be completely healed up. Even when I return to work in a few weeks, my boss insists on me starting out a few hours a day and working up to my full, burning my candle at both ends with a blow torch speed, over a couple of weeks. I just hope someone remembers to fill that blowtorch with propane for me. I'm fresh out.
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