Why don't the "pro-lifers" just drop the bullshit and call themselves the "pro-forced-birthers," since that's what they really are?
They don't give a damn about life, they only care about enforced procreation -- up until the birth, of course. After that, it's someone else's problem. Much like the sanctity of marriage, the sanctity of life is somewhat lost on these people, as evidenced by the fact that the pro-forced-birthers have no apparent interest in (and certainly want no societal financial responsibility for) the nuts and bolts of these children's lives once they emerge from the womb ... and no moral objection to the torture or murder of adults. What, exactly, do they think infants grow up to be?
Stop calling it "life." Life is what happens between birth and death. You know, those years between the time you take away a pregnant woman's choice and the day one of you murders some elderly woman's grown child.
Sanctity, my ass. You don't know the meaning of the word.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Poultry Update
The thing about ducklings is that they're sometimes hard to identify, especially when they're similarly hued in their infancy. As they've grown and developed a more duck-ly appearance this week, we've made the discovery that we probably have five breeds ... not three.
The brown ducklings, who were first identified as Indian Runners, on closer inspection appear to be three Chocolate Runners and two Khaki Campbells. We've determined this by noting that three of them are skinny, stand up very tall, walk really funny and look like dinosaurs in profile. The other two stand and waddle and look like ducks. Ipso facto, three Runners and two Campbells. I think. I've tentatively named the Runners "Godiva," "Cadbury," and "Nestle." I'm still trying to come up with suitably Scot names for the Campbells.
Likewise, the six yellow ducklings are no longer a mystery. Only four are wearing little feather hats, so I assumed the two hatless ones were either waiting to sprout them or were defective in some way. As the week wore on, the two hatless ducklings seemed to grow less yellow and more tan, and little brown stripes began to appear beside their eyes. After some research, we appear to have four Crested Pekins and two Buff Orpingtons. One of the crested ducks is actually friendly, which is more than I can say for any of the ducks from last year ... or the other 14 from this year. I'm considering calling the friendly one "Hedwig."
The four Blue Swedish ducklings have not pulled any fast ones or changed their plumage, so I think it's still safe to say they are what we thought they were from the outset. For the moment they are "Sven," "Olle," "Helga," and "Ingrid," but their names are subject to change when their gender becomes apparent. Not that any of their names matter, since I can never tell one from the other once their all grown up, but at least it gives me something to call them while I'm moving them in and out of their crate twice a day for housekeeping.
It's clear, at this point, that a large wire dog kennel is inadequate for housing 15 fast-growing ducklings. They've already tripled in size and are nearly as tall as their waterer in a mere 10 days. Fifteen ducklings is mathematically only twice the number we had last year, but they produce at least four times the amount of poop.
The turkeys are still little, being much slower growers, but have prodigious wings already, with which they can actually achieve something like short running flights across the bedroom floor. They have turned out to be affectionate and humorous puppies with feathers. They both appear to be boys, which is a shame because we were hoping to call them "Butterball" and "Jenny-O." But based on the tiny nubbin starting to protrude from their foreheads, which I assume is going to develop into the long snood that dangles down over male turkeys' beaks, "Jenny-O" is out of the question. I've also discovered that you can hypnotize a turkey by stroking the bottoms of its feet. Once you've done this, the turkey can be laid on it's back where it will proceed to sleep like a floppy baby.
The brown ducklings, who were first identified as Indian Runners, on closer inspection appear to be three Chocolate Runners and two Khaki Campbells. We've determined this by noting that three of them are skinny, stand up very tall, walk really funny and look like dinosaurs in profile. The other two stand and waddle and look like ducks. Ipso facto, three Runners and two Campbells. I think. I've tentatively named the Runners "Godiva," "Cadbury," and "Nestle." I'm still trying to come up with suitably Scot names for the Campbells.
Likewise, the six yellow ducklings are no longer a mystery. Only four are wearing little feather hats, so I assumed the two hatless ones were either waiting to sprout them or were defective in some way. As the week wore on, the two hatless ducklings seemed to grow less yellow and more tan, and little brown stripes began to appear beside their eyes. After some research, we appear to have four Crested Pekins and two Buff Orpingtons. One of the crested ducks is actually friendly, which is more than I can say for any of the ducks from last year ... or the other 14 from this year. I'm considering calling the friendly one "Hedwig."
The four Blue Swedish ducklings have not pulled any fast ones or changed their plumage, so I think it's still safe to say they are what we thought they were from the outset. For the moment they are "Sven," "Olle," "Helga," and "Ingrid," but their names are subject to change when their gender becomes apparent. Not that any of their names matter, since I can never tell one from the other once their all grown up, but at least it gives me something to call them while I'm moving them in and out of their crate twice a day for housekeeping.
It's clear, at this point, that a large wire dog kennel is inadequate for housing 15 fast-growing ducklings. They've already tripled in size and are nearly as tall as their waterer in a mere 10 days. Fifteen ducklings is mathematically only twice the number we had last year, but they produce at least four times the amount of poop.
The turkeys are still little, being much slower growers, but have prodigious wings already, with which they can actually achieve something like short running flights across the bedroom floor. They have turned out to be affectionate and humorous puppies with feathers. They both appear to be boys, which is a shame because we were hoping to call them "Butterball" and "Jenny-O." But based on the tiny nubbin starting to protrude from their foreheads, which I assume is going to develop into the long snood that dangles down over male turkeys' beaks, "Jenny-O" is out of the question. I've also discovered that you can hypnotize a turkey by stroking the bottoms of its feet. Once you've done this, the turkey can be laid on it's back where it will proceed to sleep like a floppy baby.
When not sleeping like a baby or practicing his fast flying, Butterball enjoys re-enacting scenes from "Turkeyzilla" on the faux lawn of my dollhouse.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
According to the United States Government Accountability Office (GAO), there are 1,138 federal statutory benefits, rights and privileges conferred by marriage.
The 1996 Defense of Marriage Act specifically bars any federal recognition of same sex marriage, or conveyance of marriage benefits to same sex couples through federal marriage law.
What this means to same sex couples, even in states where same sex marriage, civil union or domestic partnership are legal, is that these benefits, rights and privileges are still withheld at the federal level even if you do have a legal marriage in your state.
This is a very abbreviated list from Wikipedia, published here because some of our friends and co-workers have expressed that they "never really thought about" what they get automatically with their marriage license and what we don't get by having one withheld from us ... or even by having one that is only recognized at the state level. Sometimes people suggest that gay and lesbian couples can and should secure these rights for ourselves by drawing up legal contracts. Personally, I would resent paying tens of thousands of dollars to an attorney to get a fraction of what heterosexual couples can get for a two dollar license fee, even if it were possible. But really, good luck getting a legally binding contract to collect someone else's Social Security benefits.
Maybe we should stop assuming that people understand what we're being denied:
Rights and benefits of surviving spouse:
The 1996 Defense of Marriage Act specifically bars any federal recognition of same sex marriage, or conveyance of marriage benefits to same sex couples through federal marriage law.
What this means to same sex couples, even in states where same sex marriage, civil union or domestic partnership are legal, is that these benefits, rights and privileges are still withheld at the federal level even if you do have a legal marriage in your state.
This is a very abbreviated list from Wikipedia, published here because some of our friends and co-workers have expressed that they "never really thought about" what they get automatically with their marriage license and what we don't get by having one withheld from us ... or even by having one that is only recognized at the state level. Sometimes people suggest that gay and lesbian couples can and should secure these rights for ourselves by drawing up legal contracts. Personally, I would resent paying tens of thousands of dollars to an attorney to get a fraction of what heterosexual couples can get for a two dollar license fee, even if it were possible. But really, good luck getting a legally binding contract to collect someone else's Social Security benefits.
Maybe we should stop assuming that people understand what we're being denied:
Rights and benefits of surviving spouse:
- Social Security pension
- veteran's pensions, indemnity compensation for service related deaths, medical care, nursing home care, right to burial in veterans' cemeteries, educational and housing assistance
- survivor benefits for federal employees
- survivor benefits for spouses of longshoremen, harbor workers, railroad workers
additional benefits to spouses of coal miners who die of black lung disease - $100,000 to spouse of any public safety officer killed in the line of duty
- continuation of employer-sponsored health benefits
- renewal and termination rights to spouse's copyrights on death of spouse
- continued water rights of spouse in some circumstances
- payment of wages and worker compensation benefits after worker death
- making, revoking, and objecting to post-mortem anatomical gifts
Right to benefits while married:
- employment assistance and transitional services for spouses of members being separated from military service; continued commissary privileges
- per diem payment to spouse for federal civil service employees when relocating
- Indian Health Service care for spouses of Native Americans (in some circumstances)
- sponsor husband/wife for immigration benefits
Larger benefits under some programs if married, including:
- veteran's disability
- Supplemental Security Income
- disability payments for federal employees
- Medicaid
- property tax exemption for homes of totally disabled veterans
- income tax deductions, credits, rates exemption, and estimates
Joint and family-related rights:
- joint filing of bankruptcy permitted
- joint parenting rights, such as access to children's school records
- family visitation rights for the spouse and non-biological children, such as to visit a spouse in a hospital or prison
- next-of-kin status for emergency medical decisions or filing wrongful death claims
- custodial rights to children, shared property, child support, and alimony after divorce
- domestic violence intervention
- access to "family only" services, such as reduced rate memberships to clubs & organizations or residency in certain neighborhoods
- preferential hiring for spouses of veterans in government jobs
- tax-free transfer of property between spouses (including on death) and exemption from "due-on-sale" clauses
Special consideration to spouses of citizens and resident aliens:
- threats against spouses of various federal employees is a federal crime
- right to continue living on land purchased from spouse by National Park Service when easement granted to spouse
- court notice of probate proceedings
- domestic violence protection orders
- existing homestead lease continuation of rights
- funeral and bereavement leave
- joint adoption and foster care
- joint tax filing
- insurance licenses, coverage, eligibility, and benefits organization of mutual benefits society
- legal status with stepchildren
- making spousal medical decisions
- permission to make funeral arrangements for a deceased spouse, including burial or cremation
- right of survivorship of custodial trust
- right to change surname upon marriage
- right to enter into prenuptial agreement
- right to inheritance of property
- spousal privilege in court cases (the marital confidences privilege and the spousal testimonial privilege)
Another Day, Another Gay Rant
By the end of this week the Illinois General Assembly will either vote on civil unions or table it for next year. Springfield been conspicuously quiet on the subject, so I'm assuming it won't be going to a vote anytime soon.
It's maddening. I finally want to get married for all the right reasons and can't...at least not in any meaningful way. We can have some sort of commitment ceremony, but to what end? We're already committed to each other and to the relationship; a ceremony with no legal muscle behind it seems like a waste of champagne.
Last night Lori and I were laying in bed talking about our day. She was telling me about an elderly decrepit patient who came shuffling in on a walker. Turns out the patient was only 68! Yeeks! That's only 20 years away for me, and less for Lori. We've got some time pressure here, folks. It's all well and good for marriage rights to evolve organically during the lives of our children, but we need to get on it now. There's no one who doesn't know it's coming...why don't we speed the process along so that nice middle-aged dykes like us can provide for our partner's security.
We both work in health care. My employer provides me with health insurance, but Lori's employer doesn't. I asked my H.R. department if we provide domestic partner benefits and she said, "No. There's really been no interest in something like that."
????
No interest? Who did they ask? It wasn't me or any of the other LGBT employees. Maybe there's no interest from the hospital administration or the insurance providers, but there's a lot of interest from those of us who have watched our partner file down a broken tooth with a Dremel tool or split her blood pressure pills in half to make them last longer.
We need for President Obama to do what he promised and be an agent for change. We don't need someone to pontificate about their moral conflict or sanctity of their marriage or the need for patience while the religious right gets used to us and sees what nice gals we are. We need an advocate in the White House that will tell the country that doing the right thing isn't always comfortable for everyone, but it's the best thing for our nation. That we've wasted enough time debating, and it's time to correct this injustice and move on.
Stand up and do the right thing, Barack. Don't study "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" for another decade. It's been studied to death. Even the Joint Chiefs think it's dumb. Sign the Executive Order to repeal it, and lets get down to the business of keeping the promises you made.
Start speaking out on behalf of the civil rights of 20 million gay Americans. Don't piss away your chance to be a visionary while you waste your time trying to make nice with Rush Limbaugh and Dick Cheney. Do the things we put you in office to do: be a voice for those of us who have gone unheard for the last decade.
I want to marry my partner. That's it. I want what you and Michelle have, what Rush Limbaugh and his last five wives have had, and what every oppositely-gendered American couple have: the safety net that the legal contract of marriage provides to our citizenry. I don't really care about your moral dilemmas and your political squeamishness. Those are your problems, made worse by the empty promises you made that are coming home to roost.
My dilemma is that the safety and security of my family are in the hands of someone who cares too much about the Bank of America, and not nearly enough about the families of America. Tear yourself away from the bailout of Wall Street for a minute and look at the families on Main Street that need your help.
Do the right thing, Barack, and do it right away. We'll be coming to see you in October. Let's make it a victory celebration instead of a protest march, okay?
It's maddening. I finally want to get married for all the right reasons and can't...at least not in any meaningful way. We can have some sort of commitment ceremony, but to what end? We're already committed to each other and to the relationship; a ceremony with no legal muscle behind it seems like a waste of champagne.
Last night Lori and I were laying in bed talking about our day. She was telling me about an elderly decrepit patient who came shuffling in on a walker. Turns out the patient was only 68! Yeeks! That's only 20 years away for me, and less for Lori. We've got some time pressure here, folks. It's all well and good for marriage rights to evolve organically during the lives of our children, but we need to get on it now. There's no one who doesn't know it's coming...why don't we speed the process along so that nice middle-aged dykes like us can provide for our partner's security.
We both work in health care. My employer provides me with health insurance, but Lori's employer doesn't. I asked my H.R. department if we provide domestic partner benefits and she said, "No. There's really been no interest in something like that."
????
No interest? Who did they ask? It wasn't me or any of the other LGBT employees. Maybe there's no interest from the hospital administration or the insurance providers, but there's a lot of interest from those of us who have watched our partner file down a broken tooth with a Dremel tool or split her blood pressure pills in half to make them last longer.
We need for President Obama to do what he promised and be an agent for change. We don't need someone to pontificate about their moral conflict or sanctity of their marriage or the need for patience while the religious right gets used to us and sees what nice gals we are. We need an advocate in the White House that will tell the country that doing the right thing isn't always comfortable for everyone, but it's the best thing for our nation. That we've wasted enough time debating, and it's time to correct this injustice and move on.
Stand up and do the right thing, Barack. Don't study "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" for another decade. It's been studied to death. Even the Joint Chiefs think it's dumb. Sign the Executive Order to repeal it, and lets get down to the business of keeping the promises you made.
Start speaking out on behalf of the civil rights of 20 million gay Americans. Don't piss away your chance to be a visionary while you waste your time trying to make nice with Rush Limbaugh and Dick Cheney. Do the things we put you in office to do: be a voice for those of us who have gone unheard for the last decade.
I want to marry my partner. That's it. I want what you and Michelle have, what Rush Limbaugh and his last five wives have had, and what every oppositely-gendered American couple have: the safety net that the legal contract of marriage provides to our citizenry. I don't really care about your moral dilemmas and your political squeamishness. Those are your problems, made worse by the empty promises you made that are coming home to roost.
My dilemma is that the safety and security of my family are in the hands of someone who cares too much about the Bank of America, and not nearly enough about the families of America. Tear yourself away from the bailout of Wall Street for a minute and look at the families on Main Street that need your help.
Do the right thing, Barack, and do it right away. We'll be coming to see you in October. Let's make it a victory celebration instead of a protest march, okay?
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
A Deafening Silence
"It’s wrong to have millions of Americans living as second-class citizens in this nation. And I ask for your support in this election so that together we can bring about real change for all LGBT Americans. I will never compromise on my commitment to equal rights for all LGBT Americans. As your President, I will use the bully pulpit to urge states to treat same-sex couples with full equality in their family and adoption laws. I support the complete repeal of the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA). Federal law should not discriminate in any way against gay and lesbian couples, which is precisely what DOMA does. Americans are yearning for leadership that can empower us to reach for what we know is possible. I believe that we can achieve the goal of full equality for the millions of LGBT people in this country. To do that, we need leadership that can appeal to the best parts of the human spirit. Join with me, and I will provide that leadership. Together, we will achieve real equality for all Americans, gay and straight alike." – Barack Obama, February 2008
" " - President Barack Obama, May 26 2009
You want to know how big a pie-in-the-sky Pollyanna I really am? I believed this guy.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
A Hierachy of Citizenship?
Good news, California! Your marriage will still be there when you get home from work! Your rights are still more righteous that my rights!
You won't have to turn your marriage license over to the gay couple down the street. There's no danger of Tim and Victor or Michelle and Jennifer getting the same cool rights as you. The California Supreme Court has confirmed your God-given right to be better than people like me! Woohoo!
If I were you, I'd take this opportunity to do something really uplifting to celebrate your freshly validated sanctity. Pizza? Beer? Hookers? How does one celebrate sanctity?
You won't have to turn your marriage license over to the gay couple down the street. There's no danger of Tim and Victor or Michelle and Jennifer getting the same cool rights as you. The California Supreme Court has confirmed your God-given right to be better than people like me! Woohoo!
If I were you, I'd take this opportunity to do something really uplifting to celebrate your freshly validated sanctity. Pizza? Beer? Hookers? How does one celebrate sanctity?
Mayhem in Nowhere
I've decided that if the Supreme Court of California affirms Prop 8 today, I'm going to riot in the streets of Nowhere. I'm planning to take Pickle for the menacing part, and I'll have to siphon the gas out of the mower for the Molotov cocktails. I'm woefully unprepared. You'd think I'd keep a mayhem kit around the house for occasions like this.
I'll start at the Wal-Mart, where I can cause the maximum about of fear and panic. Then, if that goes well, I'll head down the road to the John Deere dealership. Fear me, Nowhere!
Well...if the rain lets up. I hate rioting in the rain.
I'll start at the Wal-Mart, where I can cause the maximum about of fear and panic. Then, if that goes well, I'll head down the road to the John Deere dealership. Fear me, Nowhere!
Well...if the rain lets up. I hate rioting in the rain.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Poultry 2009 - Day Two
I had to reconfigure the carboard surrounding the ducks' crate this evening when I found one of them running around the bedroom. I'll be damned if I know how they're squeezing through those narrow openings, but at the rate they grow they should be too big to do it by this weekend ... I hope.
We have a runt again this year; a little brown duck I named Hershey. I always seem to have a soft spot for the underduck. Yesterday it was just a little bit smaller than the rest of them, but they grew and Hershey didn't, so today it's about half the size of the others. This puts it in the position of getting run over a lot when they're all scampering around, but it's eating and drinking and piling up with the rest of them to sleep, so hopefully it'll fluff up by tomorrow. I'm hoping it was just a late hatcher that got tossed in with some day-olds and will catch up to them soon.
The turkeys are pretty adorable. I read that overcrowding stresses them, and since I moved them to their own apartment away from the thundering horde of ducklings they've calmed down considerably, stopped pecking and become quite likeable. They're much cleaner and tidier tenants than the ducklings. They don't play in their water, they don't poop nearly as much and they're sort of dainty looking when they strut around on their long legs. Tonight they were fussing a lot, so I got them out and held them for awhile and they both fell asleep. So, we've learned that turkey poults and ducklings don't make good roommates.
Segregation is alive and well in Nowhere, IL.
We have a runt again this year; a little brown duck I named Hershey. I always seem to have a soft spot for the underduck. Yesterday it was just a little bit smaller than the rest of them, but they grew and Hershey didn't, so today it's about half the size of the others. This puts it in the position of getting run over a lot when they're all scampering around, but it's eating and drinking and piling up with the rest of them to sleep, so hopefully it'll fluff up by tomorrow. I'm hoping it was just a late hatcher that got tossed in with some day-olds and will catch up to them soon.
The turkeys are pretty adorable. I read that overcrowding stresses them, and since I moved them to their own apartment away from the thundering horde of ducklings they've calmed down considerably, stopped pecking and become quite likeable. They're much cleaner and tidier tenants than the ducklings. They don't play in their water, they don't poop nearly as much and they're sort of dainty looking when they strut around on their long legs. Tonight they were fussing a lot, so I got them out and held them for awhile and they both fell asleep. So, we've learned that turkey poults and ducklings don't make good roommates.
Segregation is alive and well in Nowhere, IL.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
In Which Katie's Room is Re-purposed
You know how, when children leave home, some parents maintain their rooms exactly as they left them, as a sort of shrine? Or maybe they turn their rooms into something else after a suitable period of time? Well, we waited almost 24 hours to turn Katie's room into a home gym and hobby room for Ev and I ... and nearly four whole days to start raising poultry in it.
That's right, it's Springtime in Nowhere, IL and you know what that means. It's time for the annual McMurray Hatchery delivery!
The attrition rate of last years' ducks has been disheartening, especially since the pond thawed. Heading into winter we still had six Rouens and one Cayuga out of the original flock, but the Cayuga got snatched almost as soon as they returned to the pond. The two drakes disappeared a few weeks ago and today only three hens showed up at the back door for their kibble. Luckily, new ducklings were already on their way, and they arrived today.
We've decided that, although the ducks love the pond, it's not condusive to their health and longevity, so Richard can get his own damn ducks. We're going to erect a big sturdy fence around ours and put a drain in the wading pool so we can change the water more easily. Hopefully the predators have had their last free duck dinner around here.
Last year we knew what kind of ducks we wanted, but this time we opted to let the hatchery surprise us, so we ordered the Ducks Deluxe package. All you know when you place your order is that you'll get fifteen ducklings from three different breeds. They always seem to throw in an extra just in case, so sixteen ducklings arrived this morning, all alive and healthy. We got an interesting assortment! Five Blue Swedish, who are supposed to be gentle and tame, good layers and good mothers, five Chocolate Runners, who are supposed to be ridiculous looking AND prolific little egg producers (I named the runt "Hershey") and six Pekins 
(the AFLAC ducks) ... four of whom are crested. The crested ones look like they're wearing little feather yarmulkes. If you're being observant, you'll notice that the bird falling asleep on its feet in the foreground does not have webbed feet. That's because we bought two baby turkeys on a whim while we were at Rural King picking up duck kibble. One of them (a Spanish Black) is mean as hell and had to be put into solitary confinement almost immediately.
The sleepy one is a Bronze Breasted who turned out to be an escape artist. After finding it running around the bedroom twice, I hid and watched it squeeeeeeeze itself through the narrow bars of the cage ... and then moved it in with the other one in a separate container.The "wading pool as brooder" method we used last year seemed less than secure with three dogs in the house (and I didn't want to scrub the thing and drag it back in the house anyway), so the ducklings have taken over Pickle's wire crate. And no, we do not drink Bud Light. We are merely using the carboard box to line the bottom of the crate. The temporary loss of her home means that Pickle has to bunk with Cooper in the big crate when we're gone. I'm not sure which of them is more appalled.
The dogs have all met the poultry and Pickle likes the turkeys the best because they peck her nose and she thinks that's playing. Cooper drools at them and Sage, as usual, couldn't care less.
More pictures to come, as ducklings grow rapidly!
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Katie Goes to College
Yesterday was my day off. I had originally planned to work on a couple of new Adirondack chairs for our upcoming company, but Katie reminded me Thursday night that Friday was her SIU orientation, and my presence was required. So I got up at 6:30 in the morning, which is about 4 hours before I usually get up, fortified myself with a pot of coffee, and met her at the Student Center at 8.
This event sounded like a good idea...it involved campus tours, meeting with the departmental advisor, registration assistance, help setting up bursars accounts, etc.
When we got there, everyone got a bag with a schedule, a 2009-2010 catalog and a few freebies. All the families met in a big ballroom with booths set up for different student activities...clubs, Greek stuff, GLBT stuff, ROTC, tutoring. Next we all went into an auditorium for what was billed as a Welcome! But which actually turned out to be 2 hours of speeches from Administration guys about how cool it was to be a Saluki. Unfortunately, they didn't make it sound cool. They made it sound noble and tedious, like going to church five times a week. I could see the kids disengage in the first 15 minutes...checking their phones, texting their friends, rifling through their goody bags...and the parents weren't much better. Finally, after the last Welcome to the Saluki Family! , we split off from our kids. The kids went to little Wellness workshops (Don't drink! Don't get raped!) and the parents went off with someone who was going to try to explain how we were going to afford this. I did neither. I went home to show the motor home to a guy interested in buying it. He didn't buy it, but I'm sure the hour in the truck listening to music in the sunshine was an hour better spent than listening to a speech from the University Comptroller.
So the first four hours went like that: shuffling from lecture to lecture, being welcomed repeatedly by dozens of speakers exhorting the kids to go to class, participate in campus life, and study.
Finally, after the iceberg salad and baked chicken disk lunch, we started doing the things we actually needed to do. Katie met with her College of Science advisor who was properly impressed with Katie's transcripts and ACT score and signed up for her classes (Calculus, Physiology, Honors English, Logic, and Art Appreciation). Then we went to the Math Department to see if she could test out of Calc I and into Calc II. She got information of some more scholarships available for math and science majors, and we bonded briefly with the only other woman in the math department. Apparently, it's just the two: Katie and the one female professor. Other than that, it's a boys club.
At this point it was 3 o'clock, there was less than an hour and a half left and we had a million things left to do. I was wishing for those four hours that were wasted on the speeches in the morning.
We decided to forego the tour of the College of Science in favor of getting her I.D., and setting up her Debit Dawg account (sweet deal, btw...parents pay into debit account, kids have beer money! Yay!), then took a 15 minute tram tour of the campus.
At a little after 4 0'clock we left, feeling sort of robbed. Eight hours would have been plenty of time to do all the things that needed doing, if only we hadn't wasted the first four. She's going to have to go back another day to finish the stuff we didn't get to...the financial aid stuff, the proficiency testing, and checking into the Marching Band.
But it's mostly done. She's registered, enrolled in classes, has an e-mail address, an ID card, and a bursars account. She's about to discover the secret to higher education. The secret is that there is no secret. It's like any other job...show up every day, do a good job, and eventually get a vacation. After a few years of that, you get to stop and get a paying job. After a few decades of that, you get to stop that, give up your paying job, and stay home a putter around in the yard. And then you die.
And somewhere in the middle of all that, during what sees like an absurdly short time, you have kids, raise them to adulthood, take them to their college orientation, and repeat the cycle.
It's kind of funny, isn't it? It seems like an awful lot of running around if you consider it in Geological Time. Sort of like ants, but with more bills.
This event sounded like a good idea...it involved campus tours, meeting with the departmental advisor, registration assistance, help setting up bursars accounts, etc.
When we got there, everyone got a bag with a schedule, a 2009-2010 catalog and a few freebies. All the families met in a big ballroom with booths set up for different student activities...clubs, Greek stuff, GLBT stuff, ROTC, tutoring. Next we all went into an auditorium for what was billed as a Welcome! But which actually turned out to be 2 hours of speeches from Administration guys about how cool it was to be a Saluki. Unfortunately, they didn't make it sound cool. They made it sound noble and tedious, like going to church five times a week. I could see the kids disengage in the first 15 minutes...checking their phones, texting their friends, rifling through their goody bags...and the parents weren't much better. Finally, after the last Welcome to the Saluki Family! , we split off from our kids. The kids went to little Wellness workshops (Don't drink! Don't get raped!) and the parents went off with someone who was going to try to explain how we were going to afford this. I did neither. I went home to show the motor home to a guy interested in buying it. He didn't buy it, but I'm sure the hour in the truck listening to music in the sunshine was an hour better spent than listening to a speech from the University Comptroller.
So the first four hours went like that: shuffling from lecture to lecture, being welcomed repeatedly by dozens of speakers exhorting the kids to go to class, participate in campus life, and study.
Finally, after the iceberg salad and baked chicken disk lunch, we started doing the things we actually needed to do. Katie met with her College of Science advisor who was properly impressed with Katie's transcripts and ACT score and signed up for her classes (Calculus, Physiology, Honors English, Logic, and Art Appreciation). Then we went to the Math Department to see if she could test out of Calc I and into Calc II. She got information of some more scholarships available for math and science majors, and we bonded briefly with the only other woman in the math department. Apparently, it's just the two: Katie and the one female professor. Other than that, it's a boys club.
At this point it was 3 o'clock, there was less than an hour and a half left and we had a million things left to do. I was wishing for those four hours that were wasted on the speeches in the morning.
We decided to forego the tour of the College of Science in favor of getting her I.D., and setting up her Debit Dawg account (sweet deal, btw...parents pay into debit account, kids have beer money! Yay!), then took a 15 minute tram tour of the campus.
At a little after 4 0'clock we left, feeling sort of robbed. Eight hours would have been plenty of time to do all the things that needed doing, if only we hadn't wasted the first four. She's going to have to go back another day to finish the stuff we didn't get to...the financial aid stuff, the proficiency testing, and checking into the Marching Band.
But it's mostly done. She's registered, enrolled in classes, has an e-mail address, an ID card, and a bursars account. She's about to discover the secret to higher education. The secret is that there is no secret. It's like any other job...show up every day, do a good job, and eventually get a vacation. After a few years of that, you get to stop and get a paying job. After a few decades of that, you get to stop that, give up your paying job, and stay home a putter around in the yard. And then you die.
And somewhere in the middle of all that, during what sees like an absurdly short time, you have kids, raise them to adulthood, take them to their college orientation, and repeat the cycle.
It's kind of funny, isn't it? It seems like an awful lot of running around if you consider it in Geological Time. Sort of like ants, but with more bills.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
WTF?
We've had some weather.
Perhaps you've read about it? Friday's thunderstorms turned into an inland hurricane, whateverthehellthatis, and life was temporarily disrupted in Southern Illinois while all of our trees fell over. Now a week later the power is mostly back on and people are sorting out the mess. And we've got a shit-ton of firewood available to us. Black cloud/Silver lining. It's all good.
"Sorry about y'all's tragedy and all, but can we have that tree in your living room? Thanks."
Work's been interesting...running a hospital on generator power means that air conditioning and potable water become a luxury. As God is my witness, I'll never eat another cold-cut sandwich again. But the cookie bars were pretty good...
We read a blog post from a guy near here who wishes more than anything that our little faux-hurricane were Hurricane Katrina and we were being abandoned by the Feds in our hour of adversity...and probably that he were Anderson Cooper. But it wasn't, we weren't, and he isn't. Oh well...life's full of disappointments, guy. Maybe a novel about surviving the Inland Hurricane of Ought Nine will make you feel like your pain has been heard.
Otherwise? It's spring, our Ducks Deluxe package is in the mail, Katie's raking in the scholarship money, and I've got my semi-monthly case of poison ivy (Maybe this time I won't be allergic! Whoops! Not this time either!).
If we can get our camera woe squared away I'll add some pictures, but for now picture the bucolic Heartland with all the trees tipped over and guys in hardhats with their hands on their hips staring up at the places where the trees used to be. Now add a monkey.*
*This is our imaginary landscape. It can have a monkey if I want.
Perhaps you've read about it? Friday's thunderstorms turned into an inland hurricane, whateverthehellthatis, and life was temporarily disrupted in Southern Illinois while all of our trees fell over. Now a week later the power is mostly back on and people are sorting out the mess. And we've got a shit-ton of firewood available to us. Black cloud/Silver lining. It's all good.
"Sorry about y'all's tragedy and all, but can we have that tree in your living room? Thanks."
Work's been interesting...running a hospital on generator power means that air conditioning and potable water become a luxury. As God is my witness, I'll never eat another cold-cut sandwich again. But the cookie bars were pretty good...
We read a blog post from a guy near here who wishes more than anything that our little faux-hurricane were Hurricane Katrina and we were being abandoned by the Feds in our hour of adversity...and probably that he were Anderson Cooper. But it wasn't, we weren't, and he isn't. Oh well...life's full of disappointments, guy. Maybe a novel about surviving the Inland Hurricane of Ought Nine will make you feel like your pain has been heard.
Otherwise? It's spring, our Ducks Deluxe package is in the mail, Katie's raking in the scholarship money, and I've got my semi-monthly case of poison ivy (Maybe this time I won't be allergic! Whoops! Not this time either!).
If we can get our camera woe squared away I'll add some pictures, but for now picture the bucolic Heartland with all the trees tipped over and guys in hardhats with their hands on their hips staring up at the places where the trees used to be. Now add a monkey.*
*This is our imaginary landscape. It can have a monkey if I want.
Thursday, May 07, 2009
Insomnia! It's Whats For Breakfast!
I went to be at 2 a.m. which is normal for me, and woke up at 5 a.m. which is NOT normal for me. The bed was comfy, Lori was (weirdly) snoring delicately in perfect sync with the bird outside the window (which was singing, btw...not snoring), and I was spinning like a top.
So now it's 10 a.m., I've been up for 5 hours and I have to go to work in three more, I've read the blogs, pestered everyone I can think of, lifted weights, sat on the porch with the dogs, sat on the porch without the dogs, and just for fun, tried to remember where everyone I know has moved to.
Finally, in desperation, I've returned to my long-neglected blog. Slunk back with my eye bags tucked between my legs (well, no...not really. Because if I could do THAT, I'd stop blogging and put that talent to good use.)
So in lieu of anything interesting to say, here are my thoughts:
1. Pickle is done growing, which means she'll always look like 6 different dogs welded together.
2. I'm proud of Maine and Iowa and New Hampshire for realizing that gay marriage won't hurt anyone except bigots, and they deserve to suffer anyway.
3. I spent a fun day with Lori yesterday, and I'm excited about the prospect of a week long vacation together.
4. I wish it would stop raining so I could get out and mow.
5. People you really like seem to drift away over time, but the crazies stick around forever.
6. I haven't seen my brother Daniel in 20 years, and I wonder about him all the time lately. I hope that doesn't mean something bad has happened.
7. I'm too wide awake to go back to sleep, but I'm too sleepy to get dressed and actually do something.
8. I'm worried about Katie, as usual. She's slowly recovering from her mono, while trying to rapidly get back to her life. Guess who's cooking up a little recipe for disaster flambe`?
So that's pretty much it, Friends, and Friends-We-Never-See (I'm talking to YOU, Hoosiers!). Today, Nowhere, IL is a profundity-free zone. Check your profundus at the door, pull on a pair of flannel jammie pants, and start staring out the window. Insomnia is in the house.
So now it's 10 a.m., I've been up for 5 hours and I have to go to work in three more, I've read the blogs, pestered everyone I can think of, lifted weights, sat on the porch with the dogs, sat on the porch without the dogs, and just for fun, tried to remember where everyone I know has moved to.
Finally, in desperation, I've returned to my long-neglected blog. Slunk back with my eye bags tucked between my legs (well, no...not really. Because if I could do THAT, I'd stop blogging and put that talent to good use.)
So in lieu of anything interesting to say, here are my thoughts:
1. Pickle is done growing, which means she'll always look like 6 different dogs welded together.
2. I'm proud of Maine and Iowa and New Hampshire for realizing that gay marriage won't hurt anyone except bigots, and they deserve to suffer anyway.
3. I spent a fun day with Lori yesterday, and I'm excited about the prospect of a week long vacation together.
4. I wish it would stop raining so I could get out and mow.
5. People you really like seem to drift away over time, but the crazies stick around forever.
6. I haven't seen my brother Daniel in 20 years, and I wonder about him all the time lately. I hope that doesn't mean something bad has happened.
7. I'm too wide awake to go back to sleep, but I'm too sleepy to get dressed and actually do something.
8. I'm worried about Katie, as usual. She's slowly recovering from her mono, while trying to rapidly get back to her life. Guess who's cooking up a little recipe for disaster flambe`?
So that's pretty much it, Friends, and Friends-We-Never-See (I'm talking to YOU, Hoosiers!). Today, Nowhere, IL is a profundity-free zone. Check your profundus at the door, pull on a pair of flannel jammie pants, and start staring out the window. Insomnia is in the house.
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
Healthcare Reform Needs You
Congress has begun the arduous task of battling for healthcare reform. I, like a whole lot of other Americans, have found myself among the uninsured. I became uninsured, for the first time in my adult life, a year and a half ago when I changed employers and cut my hours to part-time. I had been insured through my employer with Blue Cross/Blue Shield, so I assumed it would be a simple matter to convert to a private policy. It was not so simple. In fact, it was not possible.
I was denied private insurance because of a pre-existing condition. That's right ... I, like millions of other middle-aged Americans, have high blood pressure. It's even higher these days, since I no longer take medication or have bi-monthly check-ups for it now that every jot and tittle of my healthcare needs -- along with the inflated price of everything else -- has to come out of my middle-class recession-impacted pocket.
I'm not willing to trust that those in Washington know my opinion about healthcare reform, so I've taken the opportunity to tell them myself. You should, too.
It's easy. Just go to Contacting the Congress and click on your state. Write to your own Congresspersons or Representatives.
Whether the private insurance sector is working for you or not, it isn't working for millions of your neighbors, co-workers, friends and family members. Healthcare reform without a public insurance option will not help those who need it. If you don't need it, that's wonderful and I'm happy for you, and you can keep your insurance under a real reform plan. Please don't sit on your insured hands when so many of the rest of us are not as fortunate.
I was denied private insurance because of a pre-existing condition. That's right ... I, like millions of other middle-aged Americans, have high blood pressure. It's even higher these days, since I no longer take medication or have bi-monthly check-ups for it now that every jot and tittle of my healthcare needs -- along with the inflated price of everything else -- has to come out of my middle-class recession-impacted pocket.
I'm not willing to trust that those in Washington know my opinion about healthcare reform, so I've taken the opportunity to tell them myself. You should, too.
It's easy. Just go to Contacting the Congress and click on your state. Write to your own Congresspersons or Representatives.
Whether the private insurance sector is working for you or not, it isn't working for millions of your neighbors, co-workers, friends and family members. Healthcare reform without a public insurance option will not help those who need it. If you don't need it, that's wonderful and I'm happy for you, and you can keep your insurance under a real reform plan. Please don't sit on your insured hands when so many of the rest of us are not as fortunate.
Well, Idn't That Special!
Some celebrities are lauded with honorary doctorates. Others have their body of work honored by lifetime achievement awards. The best and brightest are sometimes awarded the Nobel Prize in their field.
The all-white "Alaskan Hunter" - fashionable until Labor Day - is the civilian version of a modified M-4 rifle carried by U.S. troops overseas.
It's engraved with Palin's name and adorned with a map of the state on the collapsible stock - made legal after the expiration of the assault weapons ban in 2004. The Big Dipper from the state flag is etched on the magazine well behind a vented barrel guard.
The rifle is chambered in .50-caliber "Beowulf." It's the same caliber used by heavy machine guns, which can take down big game, and in war zones."
Let's see those Cheeto-eating, pj clad liberal Alaska bloggers and the gosh-darned negative nellies in the Alaska legislature try to mess with her now also too! Look out Putin, don't be rearing your head! Sarah can see your house from hers ... and she's armed to the teeth, gosh-darnit!
Oh, and Levi? Ixnay on the awyerlay.
Oh, and Levi? Ixnay on the awyerlay.
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