shout outs

Let's give a big hand and a warm welcome to this week's OBP article about Trillium Services, mental health providers for children in the state of Oregon. They join the long list of casualties in our ever-fading funds crisis for people in dire need.



And let us not forget W Week's coverage of Sherri Foster, just one of thousands suffering from borderline personality disorder.

And where would we be without giving a wink and a nod to that crazy scarecrow king of ours for his handy dandy vetoing power!!!

I know I'm proud to be an American!


ps-I just got over the stomach flu, maybe that has something to do with the rancor.

musings

Quicksand years that whirl me I know not whither,

our schemes, politics, fail, lines give way, substances mock and elude me,

Only the theme I sing, the great and strong-possess'd soul, eludes not,

One's-self must never give way-that is the final substance-that out of all is sure,

Out of politics, triumphs, battles, life, what at last finally remains?

When shows break up what but One's-Self is sure?



-Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass, 1865

school rules

Here are some questions for all of those of you who have gone back to school in the past seven years:

1. Do we still raise our hands in college when we have a question? (I just blurted some things out but nobody seemed to mind.)

2. Is it okay to call our professors "Mr or Mrs" ? (I would think we should consider their education before calling them anything)

3. Why does everyone at PCC smoke? (yuck)

4. How come everybody gets hepped up about street-corner evangelists when I saw two of them parading around as bank credit card salesmen today in the common area? (those shark-tooths)

5. Is it okay to use the calculator function on your cell phone if you happened to have forgotten your calculator for chemistry lab? (I did.)

6. Where are the on-campus Starbucks??

--Today was my first day back to school since I graduated with my BS in 2000. Today was also the first day of Abigail's journey into pre-academia at the YMCA Child Development Center! Hooray for learning! Abigail informed me that she had salad and oranges and a sandwich for lunch, that her teacher let her play with the big stuffed puppy and that they sang a song about farmers for quite some time.

I sat next to an interesting gal for three hours in a Chemistry lab class. 10 more weeks and counting, folks! Here's to "better late than never!"

Motherhood

Sometimes raising two children under the age of 5 can feel like you are participating in the calf-roping event at the rodeo. Specifically when it comes to getting them dressed in the morning!

Other days you just feel like doing a little light cleaning...at least with the vacuum you can't hear their whining and protests!

And at the end of the day, they will sit in their little seats in a perfectly cleaned up play room, pose for a picture with the uttermost civility and decorum. Well, a girl can dream, can't she?

rants and raves

First:
to the man on 72nd with the shirt reading "need some love?" on the back, with a large, cut out heart before the word love-and I mean, cut out as in you could see his very hairy back, I say thank you. Thank you for having the courage to wear one of those zany, novelty shirts you can find only at convenience stores right behind the day old doughnuts and semi-pornographic magazines with black covers. Thank you for not only sporting it, but wearing it proudly, on your bike, riding around Portland for all the world to see. We, the tailored timid, applaud you and your complete lack of style, but also your complete inability to see you are wearing a shirt advertising 'lovin' with black icky hairs sticking out!

Second:
To the driver of the late 80's model Honda Accord-I don't ask for much, just drive on your side of the road and I'll drive on mine. And if I raise my hands up at you in exasperation, I'm not flipping you off, I'm just showing you that my hands are completely off the steering wheel in an attempt to drive more like you!

Third:
To the customer service person I spoke with earlier today on the phone while wandering around Target, please don't ever tell someone, a customer, that you are bad at spelling. And that it will take you a while to type in my information. They tape those conversations-you know who, your supervisors. Please don't tell me you don't know how to spell 'Portland' and "could I please spell it". Because then I will being to think that maybe outsourcing wasn't such a good idea, after all.

And last:
To the snotty soccer mom at Fred Meyer-there is not enough room in the aisle for your stupid shopping cart, myself, and the poor elderly couple looking at Halloween decorations! Wait your turn! Or at least learn to say excuse me!

all the wild horses

hi again. I've been avoiding blogging and now I think I'm ready. Deep breath. Okay...

So, my older daughter got a card from her Nanna (my mom) this week, along with some cute clothes. The card had two horses running in a field-a mare and her foal. The inside was filled with Nanna-esque goodness, love and kisses. Juxtapose this with the cynical editorials I've been obsessively reading on the net and this is why my head has been roiling(no, not rolling). Sometimes all the human tragedy, the bleakness of our newscasting, the reality of it all, gets to me. I am not saying it isn't important to read, keep ourselves apprised of the current situations outside our window. What I am saying is that sometimes we all need a good love-in. huh? That's right. We need to remember all the good things in our lives, all the things that make us happy, smile, giggle, even. We need to make some room in our lives for love and silliness and dreaming. And my mom's card to my wonderful, loving daughter made me remember that. So I sat last night up the girl's room, lights dimmed, night lite on, snuggley in my daughter's comforter, arms wrapped around her little frame, and read her the card. And I poured all my love for her and her sister, all my longing for them to have a good life, all my apologies for being a crappy mom sometimes, into that recitation.
In the daylight, with the girls running/crawling around, bashing strollers into the walls, throwing blocks and screaming at anything that's moving, the love may not be as easy to draw upon and 'pour out'. But the love is still there. And hopefully, if I can practice what I preach, I can let a little more love in my heart every day, and hopefully give it away, too.

just a song

So I'm driving in my car, thinking about people, past and present, who have influenced my life. I have some freshly loaded music on my i pod and decide to plug it in and listen while making my way to the grocery store. The lyrics posted below are from the song that prompted this blog, and I know it's not totally legal to cite it this way, but hopefully everyone will understand and not turn me in (har har).

Broken

You can close your eyes

And see a picture perfect life

Inside of your mind

Dreaming only of the days ahead

Wanted and wished for more than now

Or the days behind

You waste your time

The picture makes a promise

The flesh lets it be broken

You can never think

You can't even stop yourself

Before the words have been spoken

And you've already said

You would give everything

And something for nothing

Everybody thinks you're joking

You want to be the one

Made over be your own

Before and after

And the supermarket

Beauty in a bottle queen

Who'll one day grace a check-out counter

magazine front cover

Though the fine print reads

The picture makes a promise

The flesh lets it be broken

When your life is never what you wanted

Not even halfway normal

Just tarnished and soiled

when in your reach

A framed and frozen moment

So far from perfection

Not truth or transcendence

Will set you free

Still you don't believe

-song and lyrics by Tracy Chapman; Broken; Let it Rain; c2002

What is truth? Why do we seek truth outside ourselves, never able to face the truth within?

Allspice and everything nice

Autumn is my favorite time of year. I know that sounds like the beginning to a third grade essay on seasons. I don't care. I just wanted to pay homage to the beautiful changing colors of the leaves, to the deepening evenings, the chill in the air, etc.

Things I love about autumn:

apple cider

pumpkins

coats

changing leaves

nutmeg/cinnamon

allspice/cardamom

Halloween

Thanksgiving

hay rides, corn mazes and pumpkin patches at Sauvie's Island

I'm not sure why I decided to upload and place this pic on this particular blog. I just happen to love coffee. And I am happy that, with fall coming on, I can finally switch to hot drinks instead of iced. And add cinnamon to my lattes. I should probably dedicate an entire blog to my love(okay, obsession) with coffee. But we'll save that for another time. Right now I will brew a fresh pot, drag the laundry up from the basement, and get to folding and sipping.

the girls

So, after writing about my girls so many times, I thought I might introduce them to the world-for those of you who don't already know their faces!

Top-Charlotte Louise, age 13.5 months
Bottom-Abigail Nell, age 3.5 years

Lost in Translation

I took several classes in college from a professor who challenged my thinking and instigated a paradigm shift withing my conscious being that I still feel and see the ramifications of currently. There was a particular class, a human development/psych., upper division class, that planted this seed of common translation that I write about now. We were instructed in our papers to first read, digest and synthesize for ourselves the concepts to go into our papers. Then we had to translate the concepts, vocabulary, ideas and complete philosophical argument of our paper onto a level any lay person could read, comprehend, and apply. The first portion of this academic task was difficult enough, but trying to 'translate' academic concepts into easily digestible concepts was even more so. I remember bemoaning my fate to a friend, "How the hell am I supposed to do this, I'm not mature enough, smart enough, ____enough!?!"
I think I did alright, for a slacker junior procrastinator. Red writing all over my paper but I scraped by with mostly A's and B's.
Now I have two children, one who talks incessantly and one who is just learning how to verbalize beyond "dada" and "duckaduckaducka". I find myself becoming impatient, tone getting dangerously annoyed, with my 3 year old, quite often. She has such definite ideas, is stubborn as hell, but has an amazing brain that is constantly planning, plotting, crafting, synthesizing and imitating. We clash, I think, not because we are so different in what we want, but how we go about what we want. It's becoming increasingly, painfully clear that some translation is in order. She needs to understand, on her level, what I want, and I need to understand things from her perspective. Obviously some things will fall between the cracks, some things we will just need time and maturity to flavor in order for their to be understanding. But until then, I will do my best to translate my thoughts for her and to extrapolate meaning from her communications, verbal and otherwise.

I fought the law, and the law won

I was reading the complete ballot measure 50 pamphlet for the state of Oregon, due to come out the end of this month by mail. (Election time is November 6th, Oregonians, be on your toes!)
The official scope of this measure is"AMENDS CONSTITUTION: DEDICATES FUNDS TO PROVIDE HEALTH CARE FOR CHILDREN, FUND TOBACCO PREVENTION, THROUGH INCREASED TOBACCO TAX." Read more about it at http://www.sos.state.or.us/elections/nov62007/.

A few thoughts, fellow noshers:

1. Yahoo! state funding of health care for neglected portions of our society such as children should make me happy, right?
2. But, what about that little tobacco tax increase? What do I think about that?
On the one hand I say, yes, stick it to the smokers, they're just doing myself and themselves a huge disservice by continuing to smoke. Health reasons, air quality, littering, etc. On the other hand I think, well, who smokes? Lots of people, right? But if you look at statistics of a national proportion, a large percentage of smokers are poor. Poor people can't really afford cigarettes, right? They should be doing things like buying bread, and shoes, and milk. If we increase the tax, then maybe they won't buy them. Maybe. Or maybe they'll just skip the bread, the milk, the shoes for poor little Johnny's first day of school, and buy a carton of smokes for $36.50. Maybe if we kill off all the poor people, slowly, via lung disease, without educating them, without creating a means for them to rise up and help themselves, maybe if we do it slowly, no one will notice. By then we will all be living in Utopian bliss, right? No smoking and no irritating poor people taking up space.
3. Concerning what we tax-aren't there other things that we could tax that may provide a more long term benefit to the state budgetary status? I mean, if we tax tobacco, and then tobacco goes the way of the dodo by adding even more stringent anti-smoking legislation at the federal level, then where will the money come from? And isn't that a good thing-obliterating something as harmful as smoking?
4. Now I feel like I'm going round and round and not getting very far in my thoughts. I need help. I need some thing to help me see the light. I need to clear my head. I think I need a smoke.

Learning to try new things

So, I never intended this to be a blog with 90% of the content devoted to my children, but somehow fate has it out for me. I keep remembering little stories, quips and instances that I want to share with the world and write down for memories' sake. One such story is about my oldest daughter, Abigail's taste in music. She loves rocking out to Peter Bjorn and John in the car, listening patiently to her mother chant along with Bob Dylan tunes, and asks if Beethoven is available to listen to in the house.

She's interested in everything from Stockhausen to the Smiths. She also happens to have developed a love and deep appreciation for music from the Lawrence Welk Show and from Andre Rieu's concerts.(both of which I take full responsibility for considering my husband and I have corrupted her with public broadcasting from a very early age.)

Ever heard either of these two music forums before? Ever patiently sat through the Lawrence Welk show on a Sunday night, in rapture by Myron Florin the magnificent accordion player? Or Andre Rieu, the Dutch violinist who frequently uses smoke machines and women in garish, sparkly, somewhat Venetian dresses, accompanying him while he dances and prances on stage, dark brown hair flying in ringlets about his face? Didn't think you would answer yes to most of those questions. My daughter, however, seems to think both these guys are the cat's meow and doesn't understand why I don't want to stay in the family room and watch, eyes glued to the screen whenever they happen to come on. I have to hand it to her, though, she finds the most amazing things to point out like, look mommy, that man is dancing while playing the violin, or look mommy, that man smiles a lot and lets lots of people sing on his show! Her innocence and sensitivity create in me a genuine wonder at what she sees and interprets in that gorgeous little head. Can't think of much more to say about the subject. Just that my daughters are lovely, even if they think watching the accordian being played is on par with getting a sack full of money.

Man and wife, get to man and wife!

Here I sit, listening to NPR, watching my husband out of the reflection of our newly windex'd window. He's working on getting flowers ready for our mutual friend's wedding tomorrow at Horning's Hideout. Like the name? Me too. Never been there but I'm always up for an adventure. I sort of volunteered Mr. Zakky for this assignment, but as I told him earlier, 'you tend to set yourself up as the sacrificial lamb, always availing yourself to others' projects even when you don't have the time. I was just casting the lot first before you could get a chance'. He took it with good humor, although I think an "I'm going to punch you in the face" did manage to come up. (Cool down, cats, it's always in jest!). He really is doing a lovely job-dahlias, hydrangea, eucalyptus leaf, lilies, etc. Very cream and dark spicy colors. I love that he uses a lot of greenery but keeps the hubbub of boutonnieres and corsages to a minimum. Ahh, weddings. Ahh, flora. Ahh, NPR?

Can I get a cheese stick with that whine?

Lessons we have learned this week: by Abigail and Mommy


#1 Throwing things at our baby sister’s head is not sharing

#2 Ripping toys out of our baby sister’s hands is not sharing

#3 Sometimes pee comes out too quick even for the best of us

#4 Sometimes mommies say damn it

#5 Imaginary friends can apparently die several times and come back to life, they just need cookies and a movie

#6 Mommies eventually turn into their mommies, there’s no escaping it, it is inevitable.

bleeding heart

wel·fare (wěl'fâr') n.
Health, happiness, and good fortune; well-being.
Prosperity.
Financial or other aid provided, especially by the government, to people in need.
Corporate welfare.
Welfare work.
Financial or other aid provided, especially by the government, to people in need.
Corporate welfare.

[Middle English, from wel faren, to fare well, from Old English wel faran : wel, well; see well2 + faran, to get along; see fare.]



This year Oregonians can expect a windfall surpassing any other year in state constitutional history due to the infamous "kicker" checks based on personal income taxes paid the previous year. 18.6 % of personal income paid on our state taxes will be refunded as the holiday season approaches. Can it get any better than that? 'Free' money from our state government?! Before you set your sights on that new generation i-pod or a sparkling plasma tv, pause to consider this. With our public schools, especially in the Portland metro area, in a constant state of budgetary crisis, with the Oregon Health Plan losing much needed state funding each year, creating the necessity to turn away thousands of needy Oregonians from obtaining health care, why do we, citizens of this lovely 'green and blue' state, still entertain the notion that we deserve refund checks? I remember a few years back when I was still in college and not as concerned with state issues(being a naive single woman schlepping off federal student aid and scholarships) that concerned citizens groups tried to have a voluntary "give back" program where they petitioned Oregonians to give their kickers to the education system in the hopes of bolstering the budget. I would need to do more research on the monetary impact of this decision, but I can't see how it would have anything but a positive impact on the community and the public school system.



Now we are facing the same situation again but this time with a larger gain for ourselves. Could we, instead of placing orders for the latest toy or gadget, look a little beyond our own welfare and believe in the communal well-fare of our friends and neighbors? Or maybe instead of writing in an amendment to our state's constitution to allow for this kicker check provision, we should have written in something stating that the money would instead be applied to some social service agencies, education programs or health institutions in need? Maybe it's time to take a closer look at the concept of entitlement and why we are buying into it so easily.