Sponge Worthy

Happy Birthday, Pops!

2011-03-25T22:01:00.001-07:00

Papa wasn’t gone long when his birthday rolled around. He always knew how to make everyone’s day special, and his day always kinda came and went without much ado. But this year, the whole family came together and put together a great care package to send off for him to let him know they were still thinking of him, no matter how far away he was.
His little bird gave him continuity. She flew closest among the other birds that he forever changed with his training and care, and she made sure to keep his spirit among them as they transitioned to other leaders of the sky.
His monkey gave him production. She worked hard to keep up with the many tasks he always handled so well, to make sure nothing fell through the cracks that his absence would leave. She also gave him revelry, to ensure him that people would not let life bring them down.
His worm sent him a little sorrow, to let him know how sorely he was missed. She also sent news of another little creature that would join the others in the brood who would lengthen his legacy and tell his stories for generations to come.
Papa’s turtle couldn’t think of anything to send, so he recorded a song for him. Returning the gift of rhythm his father had given him long ago, a promise to keep the beat alive was the greatest Indian gift.
The little ones sent their own treasures - the beautiful fox sent some grace, the tiger sent a story, the koala bear sent a hug, and the mouse shared some cheese. They snuck in a big, scary monster, too - just in case he missed playing their favorite game.
Nanny collected all these gifts and placed them in a big box. With all these presents, all she wedged in between the tissue paper and the ribbon was a small, little promise. A promise to keep on living the life that they lived together - a life of love, a life of joy, a life of let-downs, a life of laughter - a life big enough for the both of them - a life lived so high that its worth the pain of the fall. She sent a kiss and some fallen tears, but kept what remained of her heart - he already took some of that with him when he left. She closed up the box, put it out on the stoop, and knew it would get there, even if she didn’t know how.
They sang together, like the family often did, and wished their dad, their great Popopotomous, a Happy Birthday and knew he would love all of his gifts, as they loved and cherished each one he had ever shared with them.

I wish the OP on my ticket meant Other People's

2011-03-09T23:11:00.000-08:00

Never get a ticket in Overland Park. Really, just don't do it. Especially if you're not white. Or, if you have a job. Or, a child. But, if you really MUST get a ticket, I mean if you just can't help it, or really can't resist the challenge - I have the fool-proof way to get out of it. If you're willing to drive to the courthouse 7 times. And if you have a baby to bring with you (those things are great in an IRS audit situation, too!) And, definitely make sure that the cop that gives you a ticket is a nincompoop.

I did it a couple years ago. Got the ticket, that is. My court date wasn't until a whole 11 months later - but that's a whole other story. After 6 trips to the courthouse where I found someone to watch my baby, or scheduled it during her rare naptime - I headed to what I thought was going to be another rescheduling. But, it didn't turn out that way.

Walked in with baby around 8:30am. Sat through the first session of trials - (please, please, please remember what I say about being white when you go to court, I swear it helps!) Was first told by the prosecutor that I was an idiot for going to trial for a speeding ticket. Was then told by the judge that my baby would distract me from representing myself and getting a fair trial. I asked if I had another option, she said not really, but if it had been her child she would have found a babysitter. "Oh, like I did for the first 6 times I came up here, your honor?" is what I wanted to say, but I just noted the advice she gave me in my notebook to prepare for the appeal to this trial that I was sure I was going to lose. I sat around for another 2 hours until I was next on the docket.

I sat patiently in the defendant's table listening to the officer that pulled me over talk about his ray gun and how he calibrated it. I scribbled interestedly like it meant something to me. The prosecutor smirked at who she thought was a girl who got bad advice from the internet. Then she had the officer identify me as the person he pulled over. She asked how he identified me when he pulled me over. He said he did with my Missouri license. (Scribbled real notes now.) She asked if he was given a reason that I was speeding. He said that I told him I was rushing to get back to work. (Scribbling with fervor.) I'm not quite sure what else he was asked, but I was ready to take my first witness down.

"Hello, Officer."
"Hello."
"How do you remember I was going 48 miles an hour 11 months ago?"
"I have it here in my notes."
"And it says that my speed was 48 miles?"
"Yes."
"Do you remember how fast you told me I was going when you first pulled me over?"
"No."
"You don't remember telling me I was going 38 miles an hour? Then when I asked what the posted speed limit was, and you said 35 and I repeated that I was going 38, you replied oh, I meant you were going 43.?"
"No, I don't recall that."
"Is it possible that you said that?"
"I don't think so. But yes, it is possible."
"What would cause you to make a mistake like that?"
"It wouldn't be a mistake. I just would have misspoke."
"Well, what would make you misspeak?"
"I'm not sure. I am human, I guess."
"And in your notes, you have written that I presented my Missouri license to identify myself?"
"Yes," pretends to look at his notes, "your Missouri license."
"So, if I told you that I presented my Florida Driver's License, that would surprise you because you usually write good notes?"
"Yes, that would surprise me."
"What would make you miswrite that in your notes?"
"I'm not sure."
"And in those same notes, you wrote down that I told you I was in a hurry to get back to work?"
"Yes."
"So, again, you would be surprised to know that I was not working at this time, and actually told you I was on my way to the doctor's office when you pulled me over? Do you normally make this many mistakes in your notes?"
"No, not often, or ever if I remember correctly."
"So, when you captured my speed on the radar gun, does it automatically feed the information onto the ticket?"
"No. I write the speed in."
"So, could you have written it in incorrectly?"
"No, not really."
"There is no way that that could happen? No time between when you clocked the speed, and when you told me I was going 38 miles an hour, then - no, my bad - 43 miles an hour, and wrote down the wrong state drivers license and mixing up work and doctors appointment, that you could have seen the wrong speed on the gun or written a different speed on the ticket?"
"No, I just copy it from the machine."
And feeling a bit of a rush . . . I asked, "but, you ARE human, right?"
"Yes. Yes, ma'am, I am."

No further questions. The prosecution rested and I got to call my first and only witness. Myself. Well, and Demi.

I got to go on the stand and testify that I was not speeding that day, that I was not a speeder, that there were other cars on the road with me, that there was ABsolutely no way I was going 48 miles an hour in a 35 zone (grandma driver, people!). The extremely bitchy prosecutor who still thought she was dealing with an amateur (Hello - I've seen Legally Blond!) stood up to cross examine me. She smugly asked me:
"Okay, Ms. Rosenblatt, if you weren't going 48, how fast were you going?"
"It was quite some time ago, but if the speed limit was 35 miles an hour, I was going 35 miles an hour or less."
"How do you know that if it was such a long time ago?"
"Because I'm not a speeder."
"So, you're saying you've never speeded?" (Yes, she said speeded. It made me smile.)
"I'm not a speeder." (any real fan of Elle Woods would have jumped in with an objection. Answer the question, dammit.)
No further questions.
Her closing argument was snarky and smug and full of NEVER, EVER, EVER SPEEDED loveliness that I was kinda sad to have it end. And because I was nervous to stand up and give mine.

But I did. I told the judge that despite his human intention of writing the right things down that day, he made too many mistakes in this incident to make him a credible witness. And as the prosecutions sole witness, they did not satisfactorily prove their case, and so her only choice would be to find me not guilty. Then Demi - who had been silent and lovely this entire time finally spoke up with like 20 seconds of dribble. The judge laughed at Demi, scribbled behind her bench for a few seconds and said, "The prosecution has not proven its case. It's dismissed."

I didn't know where to go. I did know I couldn't look at that prosecutor. I don't like to gloat. In public. I just got my things together and walked out into the hallway. I wasn't sure if I had to sign anything or go somewhere to tape a commercial for Disney World . . . but the officer came out soon after I did.
"Do I need to sign anything?"
"Nope - you're free to go."
"Sorry." I didn't know what else to say.
"It's okay. It's all just a game."

Which kinda pissed me off, but then I realized, who gives a shit?
I won.

He is Here

2010-11-09T19:12:00.000-08:00

I lost my first copy of this story and had to re-write (and record it) at like 3 in the morning, so its due for some major rewrites . . . but my niece, Kayla, danced to it on Sunday for my dad's memorial - so I think it was pretty perfect. Thanks, everyone, who came out - it was a fitting service for a pretty awesome dude!

"He is Here"

When they reached the point they could no longer follow, and Papa courageously and graciously went on on his own, Nanny and the rest of the family watched him go, their tears and each other being the only things to sustain them. When they could no longer see him on the horizon, they just stood there, staring blankly, not quite sure what to do. When they looked around and saw each other, they realized how tightly they were gripping onto each other’s hands. Then they realized they didn’t know where to go. They were lost. Without papa there, they weren’t sure where the marsh was, how far their trip would be, or even if it was worth going back. They wanted to run as fast as they could to get back, where they felt warm, where they felt loved, where they felt whole. But buckets of tears are heavy, and a dark path is hard to navigate.

They wandered in the dark wood and thought they’d never find the way home. Little lights started to twinkle in the night - the little ones thought maybe they were stars coming down from the sky - but slowly the twinkle started to grow into a warm glow, and they realized that the light came from the eyes of their many forest friends. With their help, the dark path was brightened enough to know which direction to choose.

Then there were times when they just couldn’t go on, when they missed Papa so much it hurt. These days they didn’t get very far - and sometimes they’d lose their way again. But they knew that Papa wanted them to get back to the good times, back to the jokes, and the stories and the games and the songs - so they pushed on. And Nanny led them with a brave smile on her face and the little ones reminded everyone that laughter really is the best medicine.

One day, a particularly hot day, the pricks from the branches and the muddy patches in the road and the wrong turns and the crying babies just got to be too much for Nanny to bear. She sat down on a big rock, closed her eyes, and turned her face to the sky. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and her arms fell by her side while the sobs took over her body. She raised her head to the sky in exasperation and her mouth opened as she prepared to yell out, “Why?”, when she heard the leaves rustle under her feet. As her tear-soaked eyes opened, she thought she awakened from a dream . . . she knew where she was - she knew how to get home! And as if the wind was pushing them all, the whole family ran as fast as they could to follow her there.

As they turned the final corner on their long voyage home, the littlest one cried out, “Papa, Papa!” Nanny was instantly sad as she turned to tell the little mouse that papa would not be there. But as she came to the tree limb that he prepared for her those many years ago, and as she smelled him in the leaves that lined their happy little marsh, as she heard the kids’ laughter as they told stories they heard first from their dad, and looked up to the sky to see the birds flying in the formations he created, and felt the cool breeze that always brought a smile to her face. . . she realized he was there. And there he will always be.

Part 1: The Popopotomous

Part 2: Forever

Maybe one day, I'll revisit these and fix inconsistencies and work on a story book . . . my dad, the ultimate storyteller, would expect nothing less. Right now, I'll just continue to fight through all the crap that comes with losing your dad - and watching your mom hurt - and holding your kids as they cry.

The Popopotomous

2010-09-26T14:07:00.000-07:00

I wrote this story in my dad's birthday card this year.

The dedication: To my favorite story tell and the hippest Po I know . . . my dad, on his 57th birthday:

Deep in the heart of the Kruger National Park, south of the Sahara Desert in East Africa, is a large swampy area known to locals (which there aren't very many you can find, you know) as the Big Mashed Potato. Now, Africans aren't very familiar with potatoes, so having something named after one makes the place seem very exotic, and VERY expensive. So with sub-Saharan Africa and all of its poverty and nakedness, too many people and creatures think it waaaaaay out of their price range (they usually vacation at the Hairy Leaf, or the all-inclusive Ebony Tusk, the Purple Nurple even gets a good Spring Break crowd.) But anyways, The Bigh Mashed Potato just sits around being marshy and empty - just the way it ONE resident likes it.

A rather large, stocky Hippo, Popopotomous likes to sit alone at the deep end of the marsh, flicking mosquitoes off his hide and watching the jungle around him like it was a prime time television series. He got his name from the sound he makes when he walks on dry land - his knees pop, his ears pop, his teeth pop and sometimes he makes the sound of microwave popcorn as the air comes out of his tush. Popopotomous is a legend in the jungle. So few people have seen him, but he is known all over the land. He has a keen sixth sense and a loud booming voice, and he uses them both to talk to the birds flying above.

One day, while watching them fly through the sky between the clearing in the trees, he had a great idea.

"Hey birds," he boomed in a language I don't know, "why do you fly just this way and that? IT doesn't seem safe and doesn't make much sense and, truthfully, it's kinda boring to watch."

The birds just looked at each other and kept flying on . . . you see, birds flock together and don't really have a leader so they weren't really sure who would decide where to go or how they would choose what to do.

Seeing their confusion, and sensing their dilemma (remember, I told you he had a keen sixth sense), he offered his guidance.

"If I told you what to do and showed you where to go, would you do it?" They agreed unanimously (as any group without a leader would have to do) and started working together to create one of the most beautiful things you can see in the sky.

As he sat in that swampy marsh, swatting flies with his stubby tail and watching the birds fly overhead in formations he created, carving the sky like brushstrokes on a canvas and making the birds into more than they started out to be, he knew he was doing what he was meant to do.

Word spread all around the jungle and soon all birds flew together to create art in the sky. Popopotomous had job security, fulfillment of his place in life, but still felt he was missing something.

Because he was a famous flocking plotter, birds far and wide knew of him and could find his swamp if they looked hard enough. A couple flighty flamingoes would sneak over every once in a while and sure, they were fun and all (and boy, were they pretty!) but none had the Stick Around Stuff that he looked for - you know, like the cougars have.

Yeah, he sure did like the cougars . . . their fur was always taken care of, sometimes out of whack - but perfectly out of whack, nice legs and a great but . . . and there was always this ONE cougar who always "accidentally" mistook his swamp for her designated watering hole. A little, "Oops, my bad, hope I'm not disturbing you," every once in a while, made him wish it happened more often in a while.

But, she did always bring friends with here - yippy, yappy friends - and those damned giraffes she always hung out with . . . sticking their necks in everyone's business!

Eventually, he found himself primping and waiting for her more often than he was comfortable with. He would scope out shaded limbs that overlooked the water that would be the perfect spot for her to lounge on as they talked about the future and what dreams would come.

One day, she stopped by to bring him his favorite Pinwheel flowers to eat. She perched on that limb and never left. They talked and talked and talked until day turned into night and night turned into forever . . .

I signed it, Happy Birthday, Dad! I love you more and more each year - stick around as long as you can, you old coot!!!

It was the day he would have received it, his birthday, that they found the mass in his colon that turned out to be cancer. I wake up every morning and get to say "Hi, Pops," and hear, "Goodnight, baby" as I pop my head in before going to sleep. As sad as I have been the last month (it's been exactly that long since my mom called to tell me the cancer returned and they were sending him home) . . . I at least have that.

Life is so uncertain - make every word count.

Magnolia

2010-09-22T06:06:00.000-07:00

A little seedling sits in the middle of a beautiful garden, waiting for her turn to grow. She is scared to come out too bright. What if the sunflowers get jealous? Will the daisy’s still want to be her friend? She is not sure if she knows how to grow straight. What if her stem is not sturdy enough? Will she just wither and droop? She thinks she can never be as stunning as the blooms that open so near. What if she makes the garden look plain? Will even the bees come to say “Good morning”?

A grand Magnolia tree hangs over the seedling’s spot in the grass, giving shade to the poor soul’s pondering. As the wind picks up and spreads the leaves on her branches like the billowing hair of a pony’s mane, she bends just a little to whisper over the soft soil’s spread.

“Hello, precious. Welcome to the world.”

As surprised as she is that she is even noticed, the voice of the towering tree does not startle her. It intrigues her and she glances into the sun’s glare to get a closer look. My, it is a beautiful sight. Long limbs and a mighty trunk are softened by the perfect, taut and shiny leaves - reflecting the blue sky above her and the clouds all around, with the sun playing peek-a-boo between these deciduous digits. From the concave cup of one of the leaves, a drop of shining water splashes to the ground, quenching and feeding a thirst the little seedling never knew she had. Before she even knew what it was, the seedling now knew she was loved.

She was still just a small little thing, but she longed to be magnificent. She saw how the other flowers grew under the tall tree’s shade. She saw how the proud Magnolia nurtured her personal garden, and wondered if she would ever stand out from the crowd. She treasured every tending touch and grasped the glittering giggles they shared. Her fears as a withering seedling faded and she soon sprouted blooms so colorful and soft, happy to see how happy it made her wonderful tree.

Then one day, she thought it might be nice to be out in the open - out away from the safe, warm spot snuggled upon the trusted roots of the magnolia, and into the sunlight that made the grass seem so much brighter and under the open sky which made the other gardens seem so much closer. And the tree, sad to see her go but wanting to make sure she was there to help pick up any petals the flower would lose on the way, reached higher into the sky and stretched out her limbs as far as they would go. And she was never alone.

Forever

2010-09-22T06:05:00.000-07:00

The Popopotomous lived forever with Nanny, his beautiful Puma. Their little family grew until there were not only the two of them, but a collection of different animals who changed the group as they came along - they had a little bird who had q huge heart, a crazy monkey with four hands to hold, a fuzzy earthworm who always spoke of joy, and a turtle whose soft underbelly was protected by his beautiful shell. There were days when the forest would sound off with their scuffles, or light up with their fireworks, or explode with their laughter - but they always seemed to cause
a commotion that others wished they could join. Over the yearsl they opened their home to four more little creatures - a sly, beautiful fox, a brave, tender tiger, a goofy, lovable koala bear, and a teeny, hungry mouse. Each nuzzled their own place into the warm, happy home, and made it glow brighter and laugh louder and made the puma and the Popopotomous prouder and happier than they ever could imagine.

Popopotomous was a great builder of dreams - he made his own a reality and helped others see what theirs were. He told stories with lessons and made teaching an art. He grew a flock of followers, but didn't let too many back to his marsh - it was full enough with ones he loved and they were all that he needed. He lived many years like this and helped the others grow and fly away, but always saved a place for them to come back. And he made that place beautiful - a fitting sanctuary for him and his love.

One day, a man called from a faraway land. He needed popopotomous to come share his stories with him and his people. Popa (as the little ones called him) did not want to go. He was happy where he was and had so much more he wanted to do, and he knew once he went to this man's land, he could never go back to his marsh, he could never see his family again. But the man was an old friend, and popa knew he wouldn't call if it wasnt the time. So, Popa rounded up his family and told them he would go soon. Everyone was angry and confused and sad, but He would show them how to be strong and how to love like there's no tomorrow. He grew tired and wary of his long journey ahead, but made time to share more stories, more laughter with his brood. When the time came for him to leave, he lifted his head up high and kissed everyone goodbye, holding on tight to nanny and promising to meet them all in their dreams. He turned to take his first step and fell onto his knees. He felt Nanny raise his chin for a kiss and she held his head in her hands, then each leg was carefully lifted by his kids. The little ones danced under his belly, and they all carried him on as far as they could go.

blah.

2010-08-26T21:10:00.001-07:00

Ten years ago, I got a call from my sister. I was in my basement apartment in Merriam, KS. She told me to sit down.

“Dad was in an accident…”

In the seconds before she breathed the next words, and before I could fathom taking another breath in, life took a pause – you know, one of those pauses that turns minutes into seconds and a blink into a dream – a pause that helps you contemplate the right answer for Jeopardy, or strategize the correct angle to hit the car that just pulled out in front of you, or the one you ignore when you jump in to finish someone’s sentence and it turns out you’re not so good at that after all. I thought in that nano-moment that I was getting that call. That call that they capture so well in the romantic comedies, or the war movies – that call that is going to change your life. I thought that I had lost my dad.

In that brief amount of time, I thought about all the awful things I had said to my father, and the even more awful things I had thought. I thought about the dinners at Krystal after dance class and the couple times he forgot to pick me up. I thought about the night he surprised me and picked me up from work my senior year of high school to take me to dinner and a movie – a night that was his way to say sorry, even though he didn’t know how to say those words. I thought of his stories he would tell – the ones of his long-ago past, and also the concocted tales of characters he made up just for us. I thought about the many pieces of wisdom he served to too-cool a set of ears. I thought about trips to the haunted house where he held my hand as I cried, and scared away the actors more than they could ever scare me. I thought of the many shopping trips with my fashion-forward dad and his unfortunate love of the color brown. I thought of my life spent trying to make my dad proud.

In this stretched-out set of seconds, I pleaded with my dad. I prayed that he give me one last gift. Just one last present that he always picked so well. Please, oh please, give me one more day. One more moment to say thank you. One more story to share. One more hug. Heck – one more lecture.

As my sister continued and time gained back its meter, I found my gift in her words. Dad was not dead – but he was broken. Completely. He ended up being in traction for 8 weeks and his burly body gained some pins and screws and his knees now froze in the winter.

But I got my gift. Every day, I opened a new one, sometimes forgetting they were there, but always happy to get them. Well, there were some days I would have liked to take back for a refund – or at least an exchange – but I am grateful for every one. Especially the ones that brought him to my wedding day, days that featured him in his best role EVER – as a grandpa, watching my favorite television shows with him on the other end of the telephone, my first time coming into the house that he worked so hard to build, having him tell me how proud he was of me, holding his hand as he fell asleep, getting to be the one to tell him that it was all going to be okay.

And now, like a greedy child watching the dwindling piles under the Christmas tree, I am totally wishing I had taken more time to cherish the ribbons, been careful to slip my finger under the tape just right as not to tear the paper, opened each present slowly to hold it in my hands and inspect it and try it out and taken a picture and wrote down how I felt to own every single one.

But life doesn’t let you do that. The tree sits there for a while and the presents still surround you like they just were opened. But soon, the needles lead a path to the curb and the gifts will be just a memory.

There are still packages to open. I’m not sure how many, and they may not shine the brightest, but I am thankful for every single one. Thank you, daddy – you always showed us your love in the gifts that you would give, I’ve never felt it more than today. I love you.

Gimme a K, Gimme a C, Gimme an MSD!!

2010-03-24T10:32:00.000-07:00

Elections are games. They have winners, they have losers. They have brutal plays that leave players injured and the better-trained and naturally-talented are usually the victors. With only the press and community as the referees, some really dirty games get played. Depending on which team you are cheering for, you are either dejected or elated as victory is declared. But in the upcoming April 6th election for the Kansas City Missouri School Board, because the kids in the stands deserve the best, because this game has a few more viewers as a result of some busted brackets of its own, and because the future of my city and the future of my own kids' education depends on it, I want to make absolutely sure that I am rooting for the right team.

Like all games, some players are playing for the love of the sport, some are playing because it gets them through school, some are playing because they want to go pro, and some are playing for the endorsements and fame. They all get fans in their own way. Elections are different than regular games in that their fan base determines their success. So, I'm going to cheer from the sidelines and hope like hell I can get the stands to call back . . .

The most important race going on is the one for the 2 at large seats. Its a cage match between the Black United Front School Board Slate with Cokethea Hall and Kenneth Hughlon and Freedom, Inc - endorsed Kyleen Carroll and Crispin Rea. Carroll and Rea have also been endorsed by KCU4EA (Kansas Citians United for Educational Achievement). The other 2 people running for the seats are Rose Marie Bell and Robert (Bob) Peterson.

Like the full court press brought out 6 minutes too late in the KU/UNI game, things are getting heated and fouls are a-flying with the election just a couple weeks away.

I got wind of an email circulating around parents from my daughter's school, Academie Lafayette. AL is a charter school that is busting at the seams and the parents there want to make sure the schools that the district is going to lose because of the Right Sizing plan will be available for purchase by the 'competitor' schools in the district (i.e. charter and private schools). At a forum held in the school's auditorium last month, 4 of the at-large candidates were there (The Black Front was United in its absence). The big question was if elected to the board, would they vote to sell unused school buildings to charter schools . . . I was keeping time for the forum and paying close attention to my stop watch, but I got the gist of what was said, and the impressions that each answer gave.

The 5 candidates and one board member on the panel that night pretty much agreed - in their own language and bound by their own campaign message - that the school board would have to sell their buildings. Some, out of naivety or maybe keen political sense, were a little more enthusiastic to the crowd of mostly charter parents. But, there was nothing said or implied (that I was aware of) that would have urged someone to send out a message with this quote:

"If you want Académie Lafayette to have a new building (possibly buy one of the unused KCMSD buildings) then it would be advised not to vote for either Kyleen or Crispin. They do not want to sell buildings to charter schools.
At the recent forum that was held at the school, 2 of the at-large candidates in attendance did support selling KCMO school buildings to charter schools.
Those two candidates are Rose Marie Bell and Robert Peterson."

So, therefore, there are 3 options for sources of this email:

1. Strong supporter of either Rose Bell of Bob Peterson. Both are very great candidates and wonderful people that would be great on the board. If I knew either personally, I would believe that they could do great things for the school district. I would send out an email to all of my friends to get them to vote for them, especially when the big endorsements are headed in other directions.

2. A pro-charter parent who thinks that their child's education is the most important issue when it comes to the school board. A parent that wanted to hear 'yes, duh, of course we'll sell you whatever building you'd like' without thinking about the repercussions on the community or the impact it has on the district as a whole, or even the feasibility of the proposition. A parent to whom 'right now' is not quick enough.

3. Someone who wants to split the vote. Not being a fan of running the clock, or intentional fouling - just play the game, folks! - I hope this is not the case. But I can not help but suspect that this is a keen political move on the Black United Front's part to take a big, voting constituent - the politically-active Brookside choice-school parents - and split the vote between the 4 opponents to their candidates.

I personally support Kyleen and Crispin, two totally different candidates, but both strong enough and flexible enough to be great team players. Please spend some time looking into the candidates yourself, because this is one game we can't afford to lose!

Email lists for the candidates and campaign managers.

Pitch article on Kyleen Carroll

Pitch article on Crispin Rea

Pitch article on Ross Bell... I like Rose Bell.

Pitch article on Robert Peterson

Pitch article on Cokethea and Kenneth These two candidates highlight what the Kansas City school district can turn out when they get the job right. They have already accomplished great things in life and will go on to do even better. Their alignment with the Slate and resistance to the superintendent gives me great reluctance to support them in this election.

Tony's post on Freedom, Inc's endorsements

Dan Ryan's post at KCFreepress on the 6 at-large candidates

Trust Me.

2010-03-09T07:06:00.000-08:00

I trust people. A little too much, but I do. I like the freedom it affords me. I like being able to leave my house and not worry that all the windows are locked. I like not having to gather all my belongings when I go to the bathroom at the library. I like being able to look at and listen to people without cynicism. I have been burned a couple of times, and it hurts like hell, but it has honed my Street Smarts and I can be a little more cautious, yet remain steadfast in my carefree, trusting ways.

So, this past summer, when I was pulling into the Wendy's to get some late night snacks before a marathon of t-shirt making, and a lady in the parking lot flagged me down - I stopped. It changed my life forever.

Her name was Sandy, just like mine but spelled differently. She had three kids and just wanted to get back to them. She didn't want money, she just wanted a ride.

It didn't feel right, and anyone else would have just continued to the drive thru with a "Sorry" and a "Good Luck". But her name was Sandy. She was middle-aged and overweight. I was pretty sure I could take her in a fight - I definitely could have won a Indian Leg Wrestling match (I size everybody up for a good ILWM). She had sad eyes and I thought I could give her something that would make that go temporarily away.

I should have known when I smelled the alcohol as soon as she took the front seat, but she was homeless and I was taking her back to the shelter, so that would be unfair. I should have known when the look of relief that I was expecting just continued as a look of despair, but who wouldn't be desperate when forced to rely on strangers? I should have known when my stomach lurched as I drove onto the unlit highway, but that would've let fear control me. So, I drove on to a shelter I knew existed with a woman who needed my help - whose kids would go to bed hungry, but they'd at least have their mom to tuck them in.

It was about a 15-20 minute drive to The Anthony House. I tried to fill the time with chatty banter that I have never been good with. I was picking Elle up at the airport the next day so I was telling her that I couldn't wait to see my baby. My other baby.

"Oh, you have more kids?" Sandy asked.

"Yeah, my 3 month old is in the backseat."

She started crying.

It was the scariest moment of my life. I knew then that I had been scammed. Wasn't sure how, but I needed to take control of this situation.

I asked her about her kids. She told me she was a bad mom and didn't know how she was going to go on. I told her that I would give her my 6 dollars that I had so that she could put gas in her car and take them to Orlando the next day. There was a shelter there that would help her. We all have hard times that challenge us, but we humans are strong and us moms are even stronger.

She told me she couldn't take my money, then what would I use to eat with. I told her I had friends and family in town and they would take care of me. It was late, I could just go to bed. Didn't I have a debit card, she asked.

I started crying. She asked me why I was crying. I told her it was because I couldn't do anything more to help her. But I was crying because I was the bad mom. I put my baby in danger. I was scared as hell.

I took my phone out and pretended to look at my map. I wanted to call for help. I wanted to type out a note to Elle and my mom and my sisters and my husband. I wanted to push the Ejector Seat button and get this lady out of my life. We were 2 minutes away.

I kept calling her by her name and telling her a story which was far from my reality, but probably much closer to hers. I told her I had come from a bad place and had finally started my ascent from the deepest hole - the one where you don't think you can escape from. But I had done it - and she could, too. I talked about a God I hadn't much thought about in 10 or more years.

We got to the shelter. There was a house right before it where her kids were sleeping, and the car she described as being the one that was out of gas. As I was pulling into the open parking lot, I remembered a bag of food that I had left over from our road trip from Kansas City just a few days before. I handed it to her and told her that her kids didn't have to go to bed hungry after all.

She thanked me and got out of my car.

The wave of relief that started with the slamming of the door was frozen solid as I watched her walk towards, not the house with her supposed kids, but a large man in the middle of the darkened street. She was waving him off, which distracted him enough to allow me to squeal out and back on to the open highway - with just a glance of her hitting him in the chest in my rearview mirror.

I sobbed the whole way back. I sobbed because I was stupid. I sobbed because I was sad. I sobbed because I was angry. I sobbed because I was scared. Because I'm not sure if I wouldn't do it again. What if it was all like she said? What if my fear was just born out of other people's insecurities? What would I do if I was truly a mom who couldn't feed her kids? What would I be willing to do?

I'm just thankful today that I'm not faced with those decisions. I'm also thankful to have yet another reason to avoid Wendy's.

Take My Kid and Shove It.

2009-09-28T08:45:00.000-07:00

I take my kids with me everywhere. If you know me, you are well aware of this. I take them to work - Elle was 8 days old at her first Blue Valley rehearsal, she had her own desk at my tax office, and Demi is learning how to dance by being strapped to my chest at class; I take them to lunch - I used to ask if it was okay, now I just show up, Bumbo in hand; I take them to school - my classes always started a week earlier than Elle's . . . plus, she really has a knack for coloring syllabi; I take them to fundraisers, to neighborhood meetings, to First Fridays, to Library events, to karaoke night, to the movie theaters (yep. To see Harry Potter. At the 10 o'clock show.), to blogger meetups, to football parties, to baseball games, to company picnics, to weddings, to the freakin grocery store. And sometimes, I nurse my baby, and sometimes I even - ack! - bring a stroller.

I know this annoys people - I know even WHY it annoys people - but I do it and will continue to do it unless I am asked not to.

I did choose to have children. I didn't choose WHEN to have them - but I did choose to keep them when it looked inevitable that it was going to happen (you know, when I didn't know if my feet were there unless I looked in a mirror - or saw in the same mirror that my ankles really weren't). So, yes, that was a choice that I made - that Jeff and I made - that we were going to be parents and we were going to raise our hybrid spawn among the beauty and the ugliness of this world. I don't remember in this contract signing a clause that said that my kids have to be raised exclusively in my living room - or on the playground - or in front of the horrible pizza pies at Chuck E Cheese - or at Dora signings - or in the Disney store - or in the disease-peppered, fake-food and plastic-world disPLAY ground at Independence Center.

I know I'm different than most people. I love children - not just mine, but kids in general. I love the way they talk, the way they walk, the way they justify stealing fake vomit from their friends's house (oh, haven't I told that story yet?), the way they eat, the way they love. I've loved kids since I barely qualified to be one. So I get that my tolerance began higher and has only soared since I got my own little not-always-perfect-angels. The biggest difference is that now I giggle under my breath when a child is having a tantrum in the middle of a grocery store. It's actually a little less creepy for me now that I have my own kids - tearing up at the playground is a lot more accepted when you have some of your own DNA out there playing on it.

Its one of my loftiest goals in life to not judge people. Its natural for us to believe that our actions are the best - the most worthy choice in our personal situation at a critical time - that's why we do them.

I CHOSE to have children, just as many other people CHOOSE to not have children. One choice is not more proper than the other, more deserving of praise, more liberating. But I do feel at times that some people that I am less worthy of making my own decisions on what I do with my time, who I take with me, and what I'm allowed to tolerate (yeah, my kid whimpering may be a little annoying - but dude, your discreet headset doesn't make your hemorrhoid conversation any more private, nor your un-regimented hygiene schedule and anti-personal space issues any less irritating). I don't ask you to censor your language around my children, if you are engaging in something I find offensive or dangerous, I will take myself away. If my kid shits his pants on an airplane - I'm truly sorry for the inconvenience, but its not like I'm asking you to change him. Your choice to not have kids does not make mine to have them an affront to your lifestyle, but it is also not an abdication of my right to live the same.

As for the obnoxious kids in the restaurants - yeah, they kinda suck. But - news flash - the restaurants want them there. Of course, they'd rather them be behaved, but parents with kids are a huge slice of the population that eat out, and making kids happy make them a lot of fucking money. Unless you're eating out at Lidia's and Pierponts every night, I can guarantee that your $10 dinner is subsidized by a boat load of $2 Kid's Meals.

Whether you have kids or you don't, you're most likely going to judge me for everything I do with my own. All I can do is make sure that my kids think I kick ass and that they have the tools and the confidence to do the same one day.

Come away with me . . .

2009-08-09T11:03:00.000-07:00

Jeff and I went to see “Away We Go” at the Screenland Theater on Armour Road on Friday night. Let me first say that the theater sucks and no one should go there (at least I wish that were the truth so that I could always be guaranteed my recliner in the front row). It is really a beautiful venue and one that deserves far more traffic on a Friday night, even if it was First Friays. Eat before you go, unless you want popcorn, because the bar fare that they do offer takes a little longer than necessary, but it is worth the trip up North for sure – and even though they don’t have crushed ice or a popcorn seasoning bar or Butt-kicker seats, it is way more charming than the Main Street AMC. That being said, I would still see an action movie at the AMC – they probably don’t play many blockbusters at Screenland anyway – but it was the perfect place for a long-deserved date alone with my husband. And I don’t think we could have picked a better movie than the amazingly-acted and succinctly-sweet “Away We Go.”
Following an expecting couple on a journey to find ‘home’, this movie spoke to many themes of family, life, marriage and loss. Maya Rudolph’s Verona and John Krasinski’s Burt have been ‘abandoned’ by both sets of their parents – hers through death and his (played by Katherine O’Hara and Jeff Daniels) through an untimely chance to move to Belgium a month before their first grandchild is to be born. They travel to Arizona, Wisconsin, Montreal and Miami to meet with family, friends, and prospective bosses trying to find a place where they fit. I’m not going to say too much, because I really think you should see this movie – but it made me think about what marriage is and why the heck it is something that needs to be ‘protected’ so . . .
Okay, so I watched this movie pretty soon after spending an afternoon at the Civil Rights Museum in Memphis and after a heated debate this summer with a man I’ll just call “Slowpoke” (and I’ll call him that because that’s his nickname. For real.) If you know me (and if you don’t – you shoud – give a girl a ring!), you know that I’m pretty hot in the pants when it comes to gay rights. I truly feel that our reluctance as a nation towards affording people the right to love whomever they choose – and to profess their love in front of a judge, a participating pastor, a notary or a group of copulating robots for all I care –and to recognize that commitment as equal no matter who is at the end of our aisle, is the one thing that keeps us from being a completely liberated people. Our president sits at the most influential desk in the free world, as leader of a country that once claimed people of his race as property, treated them like animals and forbid them to own land or vote – he has risen to where he is through the persistent struggles of many men, the deaths of many husbands, fathers, daughters, sisters, brothers, mothers and sons, the audacity of many leaders for whom it would have been easier to just let things slide, through the perseverance of a people, and yet, STILL, finds it uncomfortable to grant federal recognition of equality for those who want to marry someone of their same gender.
LOVE is being stigmatized.
Marriage does not make love. Love does not make marriage. We agree – (especially after watching “Away We Go”. You haven’t seen that movie yet? Go see it!!). But why is the sanctity of marriage so important that we can’t mess it up by inviting more people in? Hitler was married . . . don’t you think we brightened the pool of married people when we let Ellen Degeneres in? At the party of married people, I would much rather drink a martini with Elton John than Danial Rinehart, sing a song at the piano with Tracy Chapman before Mariah f-in Carey (we don’t sing in the same key anyway), break it down on the dance floor with Rachel Maddow than try to slow dance with Limbaugh (my arms aren’t long enough, I’m sure), party with Jolie Justus before have a conversation with the Funk, make out with Bernstein instead of catch an STD from Beethoven.
Oh, you’re just concerned that giving these people the same rights, we’re saying to our children that their lifestyle is okay? I see your point – if you are close-minded and frightened of anything you don’t understand. What lifestyle exactly are you speaking of . . . the one where sex is easy and relationships are avoided? The one where drinking and drug use is prevalent? The one where sexuality is flaunted like it’s the only thing that matters? Oh, the one where multiple partners is a goal, and a mistake, and a reinforcement of self worth . . . oh yeah – that one. Well, news flash – that lifestyle is lived out in the open air entertainment venue at 12th and Main the same as it is in the dingy bar/nightclub on Southwest trafficway.
True, very true – homosexual relationships can’t organically produce children, so its just not natural. Its not god’s intention. #1 – who’s talking about god? We are talking about the government of the United States of America, so with that whole separation of church and state thing, I won’t even start on that conversation. #2 – masturbation can not produce children, oral sex can not produce children, having protected sex can not produce children . . . I enjoy all of these things – and have done them many times – they were very persuasive in my choice to get married in the first place. Should sterile men not be able to marry – what about women who want to so badly to have children but can not. Is that God telling them that they should not be married? Does adopting and loving children someone else bore make you second class parents – good enough, but not as worthy as the parents who created their children in the womb – many who regret it, can’t handle it, even deny it? (Watching one episode of Maury is reason enough to ban heterosexuals from marrying.)
Is marriage really that fragile? Is it even something that people would commit themselves to just to piss you off? Why is your love more real than anyone elses? Why do we cling to this need of feeling more right than other people? More just. More real. The struggle for civil rights was exactly that – a struggle. A struggle hard fought, a struggle hard won. We live in a much better nation because of it, we would never have know such great players in this game we call life had it not been for the hardships of many different groups of people. But that is no reason to perpetuate the hate and prejudice into today’s world, with its own struggles and hardships.
“Away We Go” was not a movie about gay marriage or civil rights – not in the least. But it made me think about marriage and how we as a people view this institution . . . Being so intolerant of my intolerance for intolerance – I need to hear the other side so that I can understand.

Waiting . . .

2009-04-01T07:32:00.000-07:00

Okay, we'll go macro - micro . . .

The economy kinda sucks, I guess - I've given up watching any kind of television because I can't stand the news reports on 'how to get through these tough times' dealing with everything from candy to port-a-potties, I don't read any magazines because I can't get away from reading about the Octomom or the Batchelor (and that's just Newsweek and Time!), I've whittled down my blog reading to only local peeps - and only when they're not talking about the economy, octomom, and the Batchelor . . . so pretty much, I've been out of the loop. I bought a new car in this economy - knowing that I was going to be unemployed by the end of this month - but hey, blind optimism seems to work, right? Our mortgage gets paid - thanks to Jeff - and I don't look at portfolio's in the first place - I'm for damn sure not going to right now. So, yeah, besides playground chatter about layoffs and job searches and becoming part-time-paid for full-time-worked, I'm not really much affected. Not that I don't care - but come on, folks, there's more going on in the world and its going to keep going on whether or not you have the perfect job, a house to live in, or even a way to feed your kids. If you haven't struggled with any of these problems before - welcome to the Real World (non-celebrity edition).

Obama has risen to prove everyone right - those that thought he'd change the world and those who were waiting for him to fail. I'm enjoying watching the show and hoping to feel and see the positive change he's working on.

A little closer to home - Kansas City is a mess. The mayor is trying to salvage his reputation by being pretty scrupulous with the budget - the thing he truly is good at - but he's sacrificed so much in the name of love, devotion and stubborn stupidity - well, maybe not stupidity - more like ignorance - and lost too much of his political and social capital, its becoming quite a disgusting show. But the council members are just so worried about seperating themselves from him and not making sound decisions themselves - I'd much rather have Funkhouser than at least half of them. It's nice to have 'real people' elected onto a council in a pretty big city like our little home town here, but then they get to the politics part, get a makeover, open a Twitter account - and screw it all up. No one is boo-hooing your part-time $55,000 salary job - get your shit together and do something for the city, do something for the people that you're going to be begging for a vote in a couple years, stop acting like teenagers and grow some fucking balls already. We don't have to give Jackson County $2 million a year to back up non-existent economic development that the stadiums supposedly give us. Sales tax and earnings taxes besides, what do these sports teams bring us - besides mounting infrastructure problems on I-70, whiney sports team owners, more beef-cake suburban residents and their sparkly wives, increased opportunity to show off our barbecue-laden body-image on a national stage, and some tired old sports journalists that bicker back and forth like wrinkled old biddies in the nursing home. Hell, if the teams left because - boo-hoo - we didn't give them their $2million - we might have a chance to unsaturate the sports event market in this mid-range, kinda-on-the-cheap-side town and get someone to agree it would be lucrative to bring a basketball team here and stop using us as a jumping off point for negotiations (thought I'd get a Clueless line in there somewhere.) And F-no, we don't want a freakin Hockey team.

-breathe-

People are still killing each other and we still give sweet deals out to the developers who know all the tricks because they helped create them. We keep killing our authenticity and local businesses to cater to out-of-town scumbags who we are hanging our confidence on as they bounce their balls on our backside. There are too many people who have possible solutions to all the f-ed up stuff, but no one comes together - and no one is really listening. We just gotta get some more consultants in here - yeah, that should do it.

Oh, and did I mention, its still freakin cold? Yeah, not happy about that, either.

(How come my updates are always complaintative?)

My job - well, its becoming quite tedious . . . I have gotten to watch all of Dexter and Weeds - thanks to surfthechannel.com - which are two of my favorite series ever - but I am very bored. Doing taxes I love, sitting around waiting to do taxes, I don't love. I mean the occasional crackwhore is always nice, and my stalker does come around every other day or so with new presents, but really, give me something to do, people!

Well - now down to my house . . . the bathroom re-do is still not done, my husband has purchased a new comforter set that would make any high school girl woo (and this is one time that I don't feel like a high school girl . . .) for our room which has needed an overhaul for sometime, our roommates are still here and making life fun - even when they lock the doors - who does that shit?, Elle has a DS lite that makes incentive and punishment equally as significant, I still haven't figured out why my cat is so freakin annoying, I have way too much stuff and far too much laundry to ever feel comfortable. I need Clean Sweep to come and solve all my problems . . . well, actually 'cause I just want the new stuff. The floors are going to get redone while we're in Florida for the summer, so I look forward to shiny new boards to skate over in my socks - and rug shopping will be fun, I'm sure.

I got to go to Florida for Spring Break and see my friends and family which was really nice. My mom threw a little shower for me, so I have all kinds of fun baby stuff to keep me busy - and remind me how close I am to having a little alien invade my abode. Not that the heartburn and high blood pressure and this whole peeing business will let me forget.

But yeah, its just weird sitting around waiting for a lot of things to happen. Many things will change over the next few months, the next year, the next two - and I'm not ready for any of them . . . but I think that's what makes life fun. It's like a surprise party every day - without the annoying decorations. Questions abound . . . but the answers around the corner are what keep us moving forward.

Think I may have lost a friend . . .

2009-03-06T10:19:00.000-08:00

Received a copy of this in a forwarded email from a friend. We have always disagreed politically, but have kept things pretty friendly. But goodness, gracious, I hate forwarded emails, especially when they're dumb and waste my time - and not from someone that I even know. And she knows I'm a pretty liberal person, and she chose to send it to me - I guess to say, 'ha, ha - look at this . . . ' so I thought it would be in good fun to send a little 'ha, ha' back.

My response:

I believe this was the agreement before the pilgrims came to America. . . We'll gladly take the shore states - but we'll leave you Texas to fight over with the Mexicans. Sounds like a grand idea, hope that the Independents don't get scarred in the custody battle, and hope your education system is left with some legs to stand on. I sure will miss my dad, a couple of friends and all you good ole' boys . . . but hey, at least we get to keep all the gays, communists and at least half of Joe Lieberman (you can have the top half, he's an ass to us anyway . . .) It was good while it lasted. Hope you find someone else to get together with, you know - to make that whole "United" thing still stand for something. Oh, and enjoy your Nascar and golf . . .

--Atheist, Subaru-driving hippie

p.s. Does this mean I have to take back my maiden name? I always thought 'France' sounded so much more lovely

We obviously don't have the same sense of humor.

(And for the sake of full disclosure, I am not an Atheist, I drive a Honda now, but have been driving a Ford Explorer for the last four years, and I do shave my armpits . . . all things I'm pretty sure she knows - I mean, heck, I was the maid of honor in her wedding - I just thought it would be a fun way to sign off.)

She sent this reply a day later:
Personally I wouldn't mind taking Texas. It has the largest population of Republicans, and we're not afraid of sending the Mexicans back where they belong. Our education system will be just fine. The way I see it now with the way things are going, I would have to put my (future) children in private school anyway...you know to keep them from the liberalist agenda. I don't mind working to pay the $10,000 a year tuition. You still want Joe's ass? Suprised!!! I will enjoy Nascar and golf...not a problem. The way I see it is the one's who really fight to keep this country safe are those who love Nascar, wrestling, and golf. They know what it means to actually fight for something that is meaningful and how we became so free, even if it does cost them their life.

With my country loving military, Rush Limbaugh, and Sean Hannity I think we'll do just fine on the "United" front. When all of your resources run dry, you can ask Obama if he'll let you phone a friend. I don't mind having you over for dinner, but you'll have to pray and thank Jesus Christ before you eat.

Love ya,
Your SUV driving, Jesus Christ loving, Conservative

Okay, so I hit a nerve, obviously. Or maybe she was just showing off for her friends (Reply All is a choice, you know). So, thought I could play this show-boating game. I mean, it was still a game:

Sure, we'll take Joe - we like free thinkers - and where else is he gonna go when you make him thank Jesus Christ before he eats? And while I am very sorry that I left out all of the wrestling fans in your proud base . . . THEY actually do know what its like to fight for something that is meaningful - those belts don't come cheap . . .I'll have to disagree that they are the only ones who have kept us so free . . . I am too proud of my soldiers and the people that fight for this country - across all political, religious, and social spectrums - to limit my respect to only those that represent my ideology. And as much as you'd like to think, we bottom feeders will be okay without you - our resources are limitless - and much easier to tap without your agenda attached. And really, Rush and Hannity? - if they're the ones who are pulling you together, its going to be a shame to watch you fall apart. Because I like having you guys around - you keep things interesting. And by interesting, I mean enlightening. And by enlightening, I mean entertaining. And by entertaining, I mean that we laugh at you.

--Fickle Humanitarian Buddhist

Or, so I thought:

Really, Well when your Scott Peterson's, Charles Manson's, baby killers, baby rapists, you name it need to be fed too, please Enjoy!! If you would like us to take care of them for you like we do with everything else. We'll take care of them for you EXECUTION style.

Free thinkers, huh. More like free loaders. Please enjoy my hard earning tax dollars while I wake up every morning at 4:30 to go to work. While your I won't get a job because I am too damn lazy, won't get out of bed, government handout, the world owes me everything type of people live off of my money. Free thinkers!!! You helped appoint a man in office that you want to do all the thinking for you. PLEASE. If you would like me to keep going, I'll be here all month. Again, please enjoy my tax dollars....hope it feeds your parties addiction.

Oh and where healthcare is concerned, when the only providers left that you on your side are those that perform abortions and you can only get your diluted prescriptions from Canada. Good Luck with that!! I really pray for you not to get sick.

Well you did say you wanted Joe's ass. We'll take his brains, it seems to be his better half these days. He's coming around. Joe doesn't mind praying. We've seen him do it a time or two. We respect all kinds of religions. Hello!!! Jews are the chosen people!!!

Your too proud of your soldiers, the ones that your party decided to say we did not win the war. The 4,000 plus people that lost their lives, so you could rant and rave in your email. Nice going. Way to pay them back.

You're right, your soldiers. My cousin is your soldier. As her father lay in a casket in KC. She's fighting for your simple freedom in IRAQ to keep you safe. Yeah, she didn't get to go to her fathers funeral because she was fighting for those who lost their lives on 911. I am sure her and the rest of my family that fought for you to keep you on your soap box and say ridiculous things such as you do, would be so proud. Thank you for letting them put their lives on the line for you.

AND, YES WE DID WIN THE WAR!!!! You might want to let your holy leader BARACK OBAMA know that. He's not a free thinker, so you might want to help him with that.

Too bad that your party doesn't realize that the foundations of this country were built on the principles of Jesus. No matter where you go or what you do, he's everywhere. He's on the money that your party cashes every month from my tax dollars, to the pledge of allegence, to the scribes on the capital buildings. Sorry, but if my party has it our way, he'll continue to still be there. And, I will fight for it every step of the way.

I think it is funny you say something about Rush and Hannity. Please let me know what you like to refute and by all means, I will be more than happy to prove where they are not wrong. Sorry we look to people that know what they're actually talking about.

News flash. You live in a country founded on being able to get up in the morning and do things for themselves. Such as think, do well, get a job, have a career, have a family and live happily ever after. What part of that can your party not understand. Oh, they aren't given the resources that's right. Well neither was I, and look at me know. Hmmmm LIVING THE AMERICAN DREAM. What a concept.

You can laugh all you want, but when your annointed one can't save you, please ask Buddha what to do. He's so enlighting, he may have a couple of pointers for ya. Who will be laughing now...hmmmm

Your friend,
The bible beating freak, still loving Jesus, life loving CONSERVATIVE

She obviously put a lot of time into this response, so I wasn't going to take it apart line by line, but I couldn't just let it go. I thought I'd soften the discourse by giving a one-line response so that she didn't feel like this had to go on and on:

I'm sure Jesus would be very proud of your last email - executions and all.

--Hard-working, tax-paying, definition-of-'win'-knowing, non-label-taking, good-English-spelling, can't-stop-laughing, and, whether you like it or not, just-as-American-as-you, American.

Now she's just confusing me:

You're so right. I should ask Scott Peterson to come over for some tea. Maybe I should invite Dr. Phil too. Just as American ask me...thank you for proving my point!!!

Again, the bible beating freak, Jesus loving, Conservative.

Help me, my friends - what is her point? I've been trying to figure that out. Did I vote for Scott Peterson, or do I spout the wisdom of Dr. Phil?

It's just such a disappointing way to end this discussion . . .

Help me name my kid . . .

2009-02-20T09:23:00.000-08:00

Naming Elle was an ordeal - went through lists and vetoes and more lists and more vetoes - until we had two options left at the end . . . Elle and Ava. I wanted a name that was a palindrome since she was going to be born in 2002 - but I also wanted something with a little more meaning as well. Elle won out in the end - and I love it. My middle name is Mechelle, so is her Godmother's, if we called her 'Ellie' (which we never did, thank goodness), it would sound like Kelly - my best friend forever, Jeff's dad's first name is Lewis, so he is L . . . it was just all around a good name. Quinn is my grandmother's maiden name, and also the last name that was first printed on my dad's birth certificate - and I freakin love it, so I sneakily added it to the birth certificate within the week's time frame after leaving the hospital (Jeff doesn't have a middle name, so he didn't think she should either . . . )

While I think I should have a little more say in the naming because, A. I care more about it - I think about it every day - by god, I'm blogging about it! and, B. he gets the last name (which for purposes of my seemingly paper-thin attempts at remaining anonymous, along with my need of your help in the complete process, we will just say that it sounds like FrozenFat), and C. I'm the one who is getting fat (and the heartburn alone should get me something, right?!) - I still have to take Jeff's consideration into well, consideration. So, some options that are immediately removed - even though I love them with all of my heart - are Icie (my great-grandmother's name) and Beatrix (Jeff doesn't have a problem with this name, just with the fact that I would insist on calling her Trixie - a strippers name in his opinion, and a wonderfully sweet-sounding and unique one in mine).

And please take into consideration that I have been waiting for another baby for the last 4 years, so this list has been compiled and edited many times . . . I just need your opinions - not because I care if you hate the name, or if you knew some wretched person with that same one, or you know a creative way that the kids on the playground will make fun of her . . . please, feel free to share these, but I just really am writing this post so that 15 years from now when Icie Beatrix FrozenFat is sulking in her room, crying because the other Icie's in her class make fun of her because she's the only one who spells her name with an -ie instead of a -y (like any sane mother who thought she was giving her child a sweet name would do) . . . I can at least show her that I put some thought into it - that I may have failed her, but it wasn't because I didn't try to do something good.

So, so far . . . my options are:

Matilda I really love Matilda - its been on the list the longest. Matilda is my favorite book by my favorite author - Roald Dahl - and she is portrayed in the movie version by one of the cutest young actresses ever . Possible nicknames are "Millie" and "Tillie" - both of which I adore. It's a German name for "mighty in battle" - maybe she'll grow up to be in roller derby. I could spell it Mathilde - but I think I'd have to teach her how to shot put if I do that to her.
I like Matilda Jane (Jane is my father's biological mother - my aunt who died last year) because it sounds good together and there is a cute line of children's clothes that would give me an excuse to spend too much money on little girl's fashion - 'Hello! Its already personalized! There is no way to quantify the value of that!)
I also really love Matilda Bee - I would get to have a little of Beatrix that I want (Beatrix Potter will always and forever remind me of my maternal grandmother - Granny - and the books she would read to me and the kind of person she was), Jeff's dad has bee hives and harvests honey, it would show a little hint of my political and humorist sides, and I would be able to credit a fellow blogger with helping to name my child (and what self-respecting 21st century girl wouldn't love that!) Also, wouldn't have to put too much thought into her first Halloween costume. Also, Secret Life of Bees is one of my favorite recent books - such a great story of womens' strength, vulnerability, sisterhood, and love.

Amelie is a french name form of Amelia meaning 'industrious and striving, work' - I know, really romantic, eh? But it is a beautiful name, and of course, the name of one of my favorite movies - and favorite characters ever written for page or screen. It was also the first romantic comedy Jeff and I ever saw together in the theatre (and one of the few since) - all you have to do is make him read subtitles and it instantly gets credit. I could call her 'Millie' here as well - and Elle and her would share French first names.

May is my first choice for a middle name if her name is Amelie . . . because hopefully, she'll wait until May to be born. But also, May is an important month in my family - my birthday, my sister's, the first granddaughter's, my Granny's, Mother's Day . . . all very important ladies in my life. It means 'the fifth month' in English - I know, all my favorite names have no good literal or translated meaning, that's why its so important to have a personal one attached - but it also is a Sanskrit word for 'illusion' - which I think is pretty cool. But also, Maya has always been a favorite of mine - to be named after Maya Angelou, author of two very important pieces to my love of the written word - "I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings" and "Phenomenal Woman", civil-rights activist, and Womanist - but the name Maya, or Mia, or Mya, or Maia are way too popular and graze the top 100 lists, which is an automatic veto in my book. And she'll always feel like she's allowed to do things - in the 3rd person, but still - it'll give the girl some confidence to make her own decisions.

My newest favorite name is Demi - or Demme - haven't decided how I'd spell it. If you don't know much about me, you may not know that I love to dance - love to teach it, to do it, to create it - and 'demi' to a dancer is foundational to her understanding of technique, execution, scale, and universality. It means 'half' in translation, but 'small' or 'little' works, too. I think it's a precious name for a little girl. And for a far-reaching literary connection . . . Demi Moore portrayed Erin Grant in the movie version of Strip Tease, based on Carl Hiaasen's book of the same name. To name my daughter after an actress that played a hard-working stripper with a concious created by a long-time favorite Hiaasen (a babysitting charge of my maternal Granny, btw) . . . how can you pass it up?

The last one is Kersten - my maiden name. Easy enough.

Some runners up - and ones that still have a chance if I can find a good combo with something with a little more meaning . . .
Eve
Dorothy (to solidify my fag-hag status . . . also my great aunt's name)
Eden
Fallon
Hope
Rae
Jala (one of my favorite people ever - and a pretty kick ass name to boot)

But the big contenders are:
Matilda Bee or Matilda Jane
Amelie May OR Amelie Maeve
Demme May OR Demi Kersten OR Kersten Demi (half Kersten - I dig it) OR Demi Maud

I just need help - what do you think?

A little advice, please

2009-02-13T07:48:00.000-08:00

So, when a guy comes in to my office to do his taxes so that he can get some cash to pay his prostitute, and she drives away with his car while he's sitting at my desk and he springs out of his seat to chase her down the road and jumps into the passenger side and kicks the bitch to the curb and drives back and parks just in time to catch her fist in the parking lot and the ensuing tussle attracts 3 more SUV's to the parking lot and so she runs into my office to call 911 and tell them she was trying to pull a trick when this guy beat her up and she wants to press charges and starts yelling to the guys outside that they don't know who her man is and they better go before the police get there and I give him his paperwork back as he leaves and politely tell her that I'm closing up for the day because I have to go pick up my daughter and she's mad because I won't wait for the police to come and tell her to find her at her apartment - right next door - but I still let her use the phone to make one more call - to the guy that just left to see if he would pick her up and give her a ride . . . and then the guy comes back the next day to complete his return and apologize and tell me he's really a nice guy (but when a crack whore steals your ride, what else are you to do but kick her ass) and I give him a refer-a-friend card to give to a friend or family member and the prostitute comes back in the next day with it . . .

should I give her the $15 coupon that the card provides, or just go ahead and give her the 20% off local business discount?

(dang, tax season is tough)

Don't Fake the Funk . . .

2009-01-30T07:09:00.000-08:00

No, this isn't a post about our mayor. You can read other blogs around town if you want to read of his highs or his lows.

I wanted to let you all in on my blessed connection with a certain 7' basketball player out there. That's right, Shaquille O'Neal and I are cosmically connected, I swear.

From my first time meeting him when I was at my 8th grade dance recital . . . no, unfortunately he was not my Pas de Deux partner, but he was touring the Bob Carr Auditorium - right next to the O-reana (yeah, you know back in the old days where arenas had names and not branded labels) - and was backstage right before one of my numbers - 'woah' is all you can really say - well all a group of little white girls in tutus can say when meeting this large man with hands the size of a strip mall . . .

to the ever expansion of my creative brain when making up poems about Shaq in ninth grade English class:
'Don't fake the funk on a nasty dunk'
That's what Shaq says when he dunks on a punk
(See - I told you guys I was good)
or chants to yell at the Finals games:
Shaquille, Shaquille - you make me squeal!
Hakeem, Hakeem - you make me scream!
Yep - all of my creative energy that went into such pairing of words and manipulation of phrasing - could have been harnessed and exploited in the making (and ultimate saving) of Shaq-Fu

to my evening at Steak and Shake where I first had an intimate conversation with him - as I watched him manually eject himself out of his little red sports car - one perfectly elongated, muscular limb at a time - come in and order Takhomasak (or however they spell that mess). The words weren't much - but the meaning behind them was sacred. I think it went like this -
"Um, hi, are you Shaquille O'Neal"
"Uh - yeah."
"Ohmygosh,itsreallygoodtomeetyou - ImeanIveseenyoubeforebutIdon'tthinkyouwouldremem
bereventhoughIdo - wouldyoumindsigningthisplacematformybrother - hesareallybigfan - likesupergeekyfanandhesonlyninesohehasanexcusetobesooverlyenamoredwithsuchagoodbasketballplayer - buthewouldtotallyfreakOUTifyousignedthisforhim - causehetotallylovesyou - waitletmegetapen - ivegotoneinmylunchbox - itsbluelikethemagic - notBlueMagicbutliketheteamsnameyouknow - thoughBlackMagicmightbecool - actuallywhydontyougobythatnickname?andthenIcouldtell
everyonethatImadeitup - wouldntyouwanttodothatforme?Ohokay,yeah,justsignitandI'llleaveyoualone. Ihopeyougotfriesbecausetheyrethebesthere
Ivegotextracheesesauceifyouneedsome - ohIguessyouwouldordersomeifyouwantedsome."
"Yeah - I'll sign it."
"Oh,thanks,foreverthanks - thatssocool,Shaq,he'sgoingtopeehispants - butIwonttellanyonebecauseImacoolbigsister.Thatsareallyniceautograph-doyouthinkyoucould...oh,okay.Well,Ihopeyouhaveagoodnight.Bye,Shaq!Ohmygod,guysdidyouseethat?"
(Yeah, have I ever mentioned how utterly cool and non-annoying I was as a teenager, especially hopped up on french fries and milk shakes and soda pop?)
But yeah, later on that night I found out that the Magic had lost a really big game and I'm sure the poor dude was trying to get away from freaks like me and just get a nice juicy burger and a milk shake - why else would he have been in Apopka? - and chill out. But then again, he didn't realize he would be meeting his soul mate, either . . .

A couple years later, right as I left Central Florida to pursue my own dreams of something bigger - you know, like a cramped dorm room and alcohol poisoning - Shaq announced he was on to better things himself - like the LA Lakers, and a multi-million dollar contract. Everyone felt deceived, even I felt a tinge of regret that I didn't pursue our burgeoning love before it was too late - until I saw him in his Laker's jersey - #34. That was MY number - you know, the one you put at the end of a page to someone's beeper so that they knew it was you - it had to have been a sign, or a coded love letter waiting to be opened. Oh, Shaq . . .

. . . you shouldn't have. But, I love you, too.

Anyway - he went to LA fell in love with Kobe, fell out of love with Kobe, won a few National titles, moved to Miami (bienvenido a Miami), became a cop, you know - moved on - after leaving me. I followed a similar path and it led up to my life as of yesterday.

I forgot how much he meant to me until last night after I fell asleep. I was dreaming about bacon (the breakfast kind - not that silly Canadian stuff) and pineapple pizza, and someone whispered in my dreaming ear,

"You know, that's Shaquille O'Neal's favorite pizza, too."

Ah, nothing like sweet nothings to remind us of our lost loves.

Good things

2009-01-28T09:36:00.001-08:00

I feel I have been complaining lately - even started out writing about how tired I was - but wanted to stop and smell the roses. (Not that there are any roses - or anything close to anything that looks or smells like Spring - or Summer - or Fall. Definitely Winter here - but I will stop.) There are good things going on in my life right now - really good things and I wanted to share with you so that maybe I can start appreciating them myself.

1. will always be my family. I have Elle - she's fun, funny, smart and still loves to cuddle me. Jeffrey and I still struggle to understand each other, but we're learning to let things go - and it gets easier every day. My parents are still alive and well and I talk to them often and get to see them occasionally. My sisters and brother are doing well in their lives and we share frustrations and joys - there's nothing like a good sibling conversation to make everything feel just a little bit better.

2. My president is black. As much wisdom is being spouted about how to recover race relations in this country - about how we should start to un-label people by their physical characteristics but by their accomplishments and policy - it sure feels good to say that. My president is white, too. It keeps the conversation open - it exposes the haters out there, and brings to light a lot of ignorance that most of us have in regards to everything related to race, class, gender, and even just plain physicality. And it doesn't even matter what color he is, Barack Obama would have been saying the same things, and bringing the same strength back to the presidency, and reaching out to us, the citizens of this country, to reign in the control of our democracy. . . to start being responsible for not only our lives, but the lives of people in our community, the future of our businesses and cities, our childrens well-being and the culture of their learning. Its a good day when people in the media every day try to rain on the parade - its been a long time since we've had one to watch.

3. I don't sleep a lot. It hurts to walk. I'm getting fat. I don't have any clothes to wear. I get violently kicked about 200 times a day. Yep - still counting my blessings, I swear. You forget how freakin cool it is to have a little alien inside of you when its been so long in the waiting . . . thankfully you forget how much it sucks sometimes, too - or there would be far more only children out there in this world. I can't believe I'm already 6 months in.

4. I have a job. I get paid to do something I love - even though I hate sitting around waiting to do it. But when there are so many people out there stuggling and trying to put together resumes and searching websites and networking, networking, networking - I get to be collecting a salary. Jeff has to fire half his staff by the end of this week . . . a lot of them good friends, but he gets to keep his job - and our health benefit, and our sanity. A lot of people in Kansas City will be getting the proverbial pink slip over the next couple months, but for the moment, I'm safe. Good thing, too, I have to pay for all those girl scout cookies I've eaten.

5. I don't live in Alaska.

6. I have two crazy roommates right now that come with a huge flatscreen tv, the Wii and Wii Fit, PlayStation III, all episodes of every television show I could ever want to watch (hello, Dexter!), top-shelf liquor, conservative perspective, and a flair for fashion. This new kid is going to have some big shoes to fill (and some huge purchases to make) when they leave.

That's it for now. Stress levels rising . . . too much to do. =) Talk to ya'll later!!

My Secret Poem

2009-01-27T09:27:00.000-08:00

Do you see what I see?
When I look in the mirror, I see me.
Oh, when you look there, you see you?
When I look there, I see eyes of blue.

You see eyes of green, I see . . .
You have different eyes than me.
But at night, I do, too
Have different eyes than me and you.

I have eyes of brown, you see -
but, please, keep this between you and me.
Because brown eyes are nice, but I do, too,
like my eyes to be the hue of blue.

And everyone says, "Oh my, oh me,
What beautiful blue eyes I do see!"
I like to hear this (especially from you),
So, I change my eyes from brown to blue.

I used to write ludicrous poetry like this all the time - from middle school up through college. I always thought I would write children's books . . . you know, on the side of my real career - which I still don't know what that is. =) But I miss writing silly stories, miss having fun making stupid poems for every occasion, miss having fun writing. I want to find a Writer's Workshop - any suggestions?

I really have to pee

2009-01-26T09:40:00.000-08:00

I am sitting here in my office and I really need to pee. I realized that I don't have toilet paper just a little too late this morning. I have my 32oz water cooler halfway drunk already and this kid must have some sense of humor because she's kicking more than ever right now.

It's moments like this that I really wish I had a penis. Actually, this is probably the only moment I would wish for a penis.

Did I mention that I do taxes?

2009-01-26T09:38:00.000-08:00

Oh yeah, I do.

And I'll do them for you.

I'll give you a special blogger discount.

Just email me:

kcsponge at gmail dot com

The Blanc Blues

2009-01-23T07:50:00.001-08:00

My daughter is in first grade at Academie Lafayette. There are many reasons that I sent her to this school - #1 she has a French word for a name, so she was already one up on the rest of the class - #2 its like 5 blocks away from my house - #3 its a really good school - good free school, even better - #4 she would be going to school with a lot of the little kids I taught at the YMCA - I liked these kids, I knew these kids.

A lot of parents like to say that they have no other choice - but there are other choices.

Border Star Montessori is just as close to my house as Academy Lafayette. They even have a preschool program that could have saved us $7,000 before Elle started Kindergarten. But my kid is not one you would call a 'self-starter' - she's not even reliably a facilitated starter. Her first progress report this year said, "Elle spends a lot of time getting lost in her own pencils and not focused on the task at hand." So, Montessori is probably not the right choice for her - even though I really love the lessons of nurturing and mentorship you get in a classroom that spans many ages as it progresses at each child's own accomplishment and growth and not solely on age.

Troost Elementary is even closer to our house then either AL or Border Star. With a Great Schools rating of 1 out of 10, a parents rating of 3 out of 10, 0% of 3rd graders who read at or above proficient levels, 3% who are proficient in math by 5th grade . . . it just didn't make the cut. The white-guilted hipster in me would love to send my child to a school that would put her in the 3% minority, what a social experiment for me!, and the community-minded, public-school educated, urban education sympathizer inside of me would love to support my school district, but the big fat nerd inside of me who took the SAT's twice because a 1280 just wasn't high enough would never find solace with low expectations that would be fostered in a school that loses proficiency in every subject at every grade level each year.

Another charter school close by is Brookside Charter by UMKC. Elle went to the dayschool there for a year - faltering under the High Scope curriculum and an administrative staff that was over-worked and, I'm sure, underpaid - and it showed in their attitude. The learn-through-play approach is not carried through Kindergarten and beyond, but the I-don't-care-so-don't-bother-me approach to parents doesn't jive with me. I like to be involved - and I like to be liked. So, continuing at Brookside was not an option either.

#2 on my list was University Academy. Jeffrey went to temple at B'nai Juhuda growing up, and I watched the new school being built on that same site as Elle was a little baby, and thought how perfect . . . and it was a K-12 campus, with stringent curriculum, college-prep atmosphere, and started by a family I knew well, the Bloch's. The very visible library made my heart ache as I waited for Elle to be old enough to attend (and navy blue bottoms instead of khaki - much more fashionable uniforms!) But Jeff, in his very bossy way, vetoed the decision after having students from UA visit Science City for a field trip. He thought the students were unruly and the staff disrespectful and lazy. So -poof- no University Academy for Elle (just like -poof- no naming my 2nd daughter Trixie). He's a pretty laid-back guy, but when he makes a decision - man, it is made.

So, we were left with Academie Lafayette, and I have loved my time there. Elle had a hard time with the French at first, and I had a hard time with the culture of the educational environment at first, but we have thrived as a family in this short journey, and I have made many friends and enjoy a very tight-knit community of parents and students and faculty and staff. I still have some issues, but Elle loves school, can't wait to do homework, is showing such strength in mathematics, and will continue to learn words I will never know in a language I love to listen to, will learn a history of our nation - a history of our world - from a perspective I was never taught, will go from a classroom led by a Haitian man to sing with a teacher from Belgium, will befriend children from every corner of the city and every walk of life, and will, by the end of her 8th grade year, be ready for anything that should come next.

But, as was pointed out to me yesterday, I chose the 'white' school. Because it represents the diversity of the overall population, and not the racial makeup of the student population in the Kansas City Missouri School District, my decision to send my child to this school has perpetuated the exclusionary practices of the school's admissions policies. Because this school is successful and has a track record of good test scores, continuing student excellence beyond the 8th grade, stable and growing community involvement, and city and state-wide recognition for accomplishments, there is a demand for admission to a small and already over-stretched campus. They have an established early admissions policy that is open to all students in the KCMS district, with a lottery system that fills the remaining spots after the deadline. They only enroll in Kindergarten because of the immersion education, so this leads to a high attrition rate - which has actually been going down over the last few years, but still causes the upper classes to get smaller and smaller. But they have an over-abundance of interest with incoming Kindergarteners. The admissions policy allowed for only 8 minority students to get admitted in a class of 85 this year.

There is a proposal now for the Kindergarten classes to move to 80th and Holmes in the old Benjamin Bannekar campus, increase enrollment for the Kindergarten class and hopefully one day increase the size of the school. It would increase the incoming K class to 135 - with only 30 of these being non-white. So, it separates the community, utilizes a piss-poor site in a fringe-suburban location, and does nothing to solve an over-arching problem for education in Kansas City, and it doesn't even maintain the diversity of student population it thrives on. I don't like it. I don't like it at all.

So, my question is, how do we maintain the culture of the school, the needs of the students in the district, and keep the admissions policy fair to guarantee the continuation of the unique character of this mid-town, 'neighborhood' school? I think we should admit so many students from every sub-district - ensuring a wide-range of socio-economic, geographic, racial and ethnic contributions to the student and parent community. Its a hard thing for me to say because I think that community schools are the future of urban education, and having a school down the street encourages parental involvement and community activation - but its what will work right now.

The same person that told me that I chose the 'white' school told me that policies are judged by their outcomes and not their intentions. So, I had a choice for my daughter - one that results in her being part of a diverse population with test scores that are envied by suburban schools around the state, or one that perpetuates low-expectations and a quick-sloping funnel for success.

I'm not sure if its unconcious racism or an elite sense of entitlement or a fear of judgement by my peers that made me make this 'white' choice . . . I just know I made the right one.

True.

2009-01-23T07:43:00.001-08:00

So, hi - my name is Sponge. I used to blog, now I spend my time slaving for The Man. Well, I actually never really blogged, but I at least spent time reading others' blogs and commenting and every once in a while spouting off my own little rant here and there.

But now I realized, I spend an inordinate amount of time every day in front of a computer and don't take too much time to take a break. So, I'm committed to stopping that. I may not stop to eat lunch - but hey, I can stop to complain a little (I always have something to complain about), or maybe talk about how much I like food, or how life is great, or people are stupid. You know - bi-polar rantage, if you will.

So yeah, I'm back . . . and I am working 12 hours on this lovely Friday afternoon, have no appointments, got through an audit yesterday and have nothing better to do . . . so watch out.

It's official - I have a parasitic growth in my belly.

2008-11-11T14:20:00.000-08:00

Yep, I'm pregnant.

Whew, now that that's off my chest (well, really on it, cause - dang - these girls are growing), what else is new?

Actually, I've been waiting for 5 years now to be able to get to this point in a pregnancy and be able to tell the world. With Elle it was totally unexpected, as any pregnancy that comes with two forms of birth control usually is, and I kept the pee stick in my purse as a daily reminder that my life was totally over. Heck, I was 23, working in a bar, and working on a whole new body to keep up with Jeffrey, Mr. Universe over here. A baby? Now?! But then she came and changed my world in so many ways I could never have imagined, changed me as a person, and I could never be happier as she sucked the life out of my breasts and breathed new purpose into my life.

After a year's stint on Depo Provera, I would spend the following two years trying to replicate this little joyful package. To no avail. 'Keep trying, it'll happen' turned into 'let's try this pill' and then 'why don't you take a double dose' which turned into 'you need to see a specialist' and even better 'Jeff needs to see a specialist'. After everything, it turned out that I was not ovulating every cycle, and that Jeff, while his sperm count was high (yes, dear, I'll make sure I note that), had lacadasical swimmers (no surprise here). So, not a serious malfunction on either side, definitely not impossible for fertilization, but we would have to work on it to make it happen. So yeah, piped-in hormones, padded boxers around Elle, and thermometors galore later, I peed on a stick and got the digital "Pregnant" that before had shattered my 'life' - but that day made my world.

Before even my first OB appointment I had already told my mom, my sisters, my sister-in-law, my best friend (who was also pregnant), and thought of many cute ways to announce to the world that we were having a new little baby. I bought books, I joined message boards, I weighed myself every day. Barely even a blastocyst, and this kid inside of me already had room specs and a list of possible names and a mom so ready to be pregnant, so anxious to sing lullabies to her tummy, and have a baby bundle cuddled to her chest, and a little toddler to say 'sissy' as their first word. This time it was going to be so different. I was a pro, right? I had been taking prenatal vitamins since before I even went off birth control. I knew my body inside and out. I had read every possible how-to book and had even started a journal to my little unborn bean. Nothing could stop me from being the best damn mommy ever!

Except what happened next. My first appointment went well, and the doctor wanted to take a quick look by ultrasound to see if he could give me a due date. Well, it looked like my dates were off. I probably just ovulated later than I thought, because there was no fetal pole, just a gestational sac. Come back in a week. Oh, okay. A week later, there was a fetal pole, but it still wasn't looking like the dates were just right. Another week . . . same thing. A little growth, but not enough. No heart beat yet. I remember talking to Jeff - he was out of town for a science convention - and he reassured me that everything was going to be okay. I went to a Chief's game on that Sunday with Jeff's dad - who still didn't know I was pregnant - and went to the bathroom and saw all the blood. Told him we had to leave - not that he minded - and called Jeff's mom on the way to the hospital to see if she could keep Elle. (Not the best time to tell your in-laws you're pregnant, I must admit) Was diagnosed with threatened miscarriage and told to go home and rest. The doctor will call me in the morning. I couldn't bring Elle to school, so she stayed with me the next day. My doctor's office called and asked me to come in to just check on everything. I had to take Elle. She sat in the room with me while he examined me and asked the doctor if he could see my baby. Right before he sent me over for an emergency D&C. She sat in the waiting room by herself waiting for my brother-in-law to come pick her up and they whisked me away after signing papers into the OR and put me on a table with a big hole in it and told me to count to 10.

I don't know how long it took. I woke up in a room with a guy sitting in a chair close to my bed - I guess to make sure I was alright. I sat there for a good hour or 90 minutes feeling absolutely empty. Absolutely empty. It sucked.

I didn't have anyone to drive me home. I didn't have anyone to hold me when I got there. I couldn't share this grief with my little girl. I was alone. I couldnt' call my mom. I didn't want to talk. The next two months were horrible. The people who knew I was pregnant kept asking me how it was going, the people who knew I had miscarried kept looking at me with pity, the people who knew about neither would ask what was wrong. I went through every scenerio about what I could've done, what my doctor could have done, what my husband should have done. I spent time on more message boards - but these were not as fun, I sought advice but didn't listen to any of it, I felt stupid for missing something SO much that I never had to begin with.

Jeff never understood. I think men are lucky to live outside of that world, but also I feel bad that we don't always let them in. He just said we'd keep trying. That we'd have our baby. But I wanted that baby. I wanted THAT one - and he never felt the loss, it was just another bump in the road to him. It was a relief that we had gotten pregnant, now it was my mission to stay pregnant.

Over the next two and half years, I spent a fortune on pregnancy tests, learned all I could learn about cervical mucus (I know, it keeps getting better . . . ), got educated about my body and read horror stories and success stories alike, felt closer to Jeff some days, felt as far away as ever others. Would get positive pregnancy tests only to start bleeding the next day, would wonder for months in a row why I couldn't get pregnant and then realize you have to have sex to have a baby, would try to go on with life while totally distracted by thoughts of baby and how much I needed one, would totally forget for days - for weeks - that I did. I lost other babies, but only had one other D&C. Elle was such a joy, I was kind of resigned to have an only child. Reading about all these women who tried for so long and hoped, and even lost hope, of ever having their own child, I felt guilty and ashamed for being so greedy. Listening to all those women who call themselves Fertile Myrtle because they have 3 kids after years of sex with no barriers, or people telling me that I will have a child when I'm meant to, or seeing the crackheads on Cops who get one of their 12 kids back after selling them for some rock really became unbearable - and if you are any of those people, no offense intended, it's just not fun to be your friend. (Except you, crackhead, it's really fun to be your friend.)

But anyways, this has become a really long story when I just meant it to be a quick little note. . . it's nice to be able to say that I'm pretty sure I will have a baby in a little less than 6 months. No worries about heart beat speed, or growth rate, or ugliness (already the cutest little alien). This one came unexpectedly again, and I guess that's the way my body likes it. I'm due on my birthday, but if the baby's a day late, I promise to name it Margarita . . . boy or girl.

This internet thing is cool.

2008-11-11T14:16:00.000-08:00

Yea!! I have internet. I can blog, and comment on blogs, and twitter, without being stuck to my little touch screen keypad that limits my editing capabilities and makes me sound kinda dorky. Cause, you know, that's why I sound dorky. Stupid phone. Now I have wireless internet that belongs to me, in my home, password protected (only because the guy on the phone wouldn't tell me how to leave it open - bastard), that works all the time and not from just certain corners of my house. Right now, I am writing this while sitting on the toilet.

No, really, I'm not. But I could be. The sweet smell of freedom.

Or something like that.

Ramblings

2008-09-18T07:47:00.000-07:00

Watching the Republican National Convention, my putrid distate of Rudy Giuliani grew by the buckets. I always felt he was such a snake and if I had to watch him spurt his shallow campaign speeches through his fake teeth and 9/11 hubris one more time, I would shoot myself. Luckily, we don't have to deal with him for little more than a smirky speech every now and then. He is the one that started the little 'joke' about Barack Obama's experience as a community organizer.

He giggled and guffawed and his silly little audience followed suit.

'Yeah, really. What's a community organizer anyway?! ha, ha, that Giuliani - he's got a point. American people don't need people out in the community trying to help people, actually talking to residents, gathering qualitative information on the quality of their lives. We need more smug suits, sitting in frequently redecorated offices who need advisors for everything down to what kind of toilet paper with which they should wipe their ass. We need more people in charge whose only exposure to 'real' people are the hands they shake on the campaign trail and that lobbyist who used to live in their town. If our leaders were out actually experiencing what we do every day, how would they be there for the corporate interests, how would they make sure the lobbyists are getting the attention they deserve, how would they make time to reward loyal followers with their earmarks and continued employment.'

Then, Palin took the ball and ran with it - comparing her positions of mayor of a city with a population equal to that of my high school and then governor of a state with a population a little larger than Kansas City - to that of Obama's experience as a community organizer (in that lovely, piercing, smug accent of hers). She said that a community organizer has no real responsibilities. Which is a nice insight into what her opinion of 'real' is. Ask the residents who were given resources to find food, housing, jobs when they walk into their church or mission to find a community organizer there to help - ask them what feels more real. Ask the elderly woman who is picked up at her home and brought to the polls by a community organizer - ask her what real is. Ask the immigrant who is working hard to provide for a family here and at home who is confused and intimidated about rules in a city that doesn't speak his language who can find answers at a bilingual forum put on by these 'shiftless' community organizers - what is real to him.

In a world and a country where half of the population lives in urban centers and are dealing with urban issues - like housing, crime, infrastructure, education and transportation - we need a president who has some grasp on what is going on in our cities. We need a president who is not going to ignore race and class issues simply because he knows he's going to lose the minority vote. We need a president who doesn't mock those of us who work hard to make the lives of people in our communities better, who care about the village as much as the crown. We need a president who respects us a people - all of us - and doesn't try to twist words and force a divide between us and 'those people'. We need a president who is truthful about the change he wishes to make.

As wonderful and momentous as the day is that we get to decide between a black president and a female vice-president - it is sad to realize how rampant racism continues to exist. It thrives in the open, anonymous web, it thrives in the federally-regulated, proud talk radio, it thrives in the dark, private conversations with close friends, and it thrives in the most well-meaning of hearts. It is being used in this election, and will determine the outcome. Hopefully, America will prove to be better than the politicos give us credit.

Okay, back on the bright side . . .

2008-09-09T10:08:00.001-07:00

Ten good things that have happened since I spoke with you last:

1. Elle's birthday party at the zoo. Super fun. My mom flew in for it again - she hasn't missed a birthday party yet. Such a good Nanny. My dad surprised us both by flying in and then they both got stuck because of the Tropical Storm. Good fortune.

2. Got a new little kitty - for Elle's birthday, but my best present ever! Dash is so cute - and a pain in the ass.

3. Got new glasses. Quite fabulous. Orange and purple frames with flowers - a little risky, I know. I walk the line of zany art teacher or great aunt Penny, but its a damn fun line to walk.

4. Got my tags renewed. You know, the ones that were due back in May. Got an inspection back at the beginning of June (already late, cause that's how I roll) and never got around to renewing my tags before I went to Florida. I've gotten pulled over twice since then and had my expired tags and Florida drivers license - both times left with a warning - even from the Leawood cop! Got a new inspection and waited in the fucking most retarded line ever in Grandview, MO for my new tags - but made a new friend.

5. Got offered a job and a free trip to Vegas. Yes!!

6. Resurfaced the driveway. Well, watched the driveway get resurfaced - but still. Quite a relaxing experience.

7. Cut Elle's hair. Chopped it off. At the ponytail. And it's fabulous!

8. Got my computer fixed. Got a new cover for my phone. Got a new charger for my computer. Had a fun day at the Apple store.

9. School started. Elle started 1st grade. Wasn't sure that was going to happen, but it did. Fantastic.

10. Booked a cruise for Thanksgiving week. Never been on an actual cruise - and now we're going with the whole family. Very excited! So, my November looks like this - Vegas, then Grand Rapids, then Orlando, then Tampa, then Ft. Lauderdale, then the Carribbean. Looking warmer than my September, that's for sure. Except, you know, that Grand Rapids part.

Life is getting better, that's for sure. But hey, griping is always fun in spurts.

This Life Thing

2008-09-09T09:50:00.000-07:00

Does it get easier?

I'm not one of those people who gets easily overwhelmed, but golly - life gets crazy sometimes, eh? Things are going well over here in Spongeland, but it seems like there is not enough time in the day - and I definitely don't have to energy - to deal with it all.

And on top of all of that, it's getting freakin cold. Already. What the fuck!? I don't have clothes that fit - let alone warm ones. I love how freely I give my jackets away in June thinking that I'll get new ones by October, or you know, I won't live in a tundra come fall, but it never happens. I jaunt around town in sweats and nylon jackets for a couple months and then buck up and buy a freakin jacket. I do have my lovely coat from last Spring that I plan to bring out again - but as cute as it is, it's depressing bringing it out of hiatus so soon. You shouldn't have to wear brown until the leaves turn. Fucking fall. And all of you warm-blooded fuckers out there who are praising this 'beautiful weather' and the lovely breeze and the crispness of the air are really just making it worse - and pissing me off. This is not lovely. 10 degrees warmer - a brighter sun - less clouds (typing this as I look into the clear sky does seem slightly ironic, I know) . . . that would be lovely. Being able to shower without goosebumps forming the second the faucet has turned off - that would be lovely. Restaurants that don't have their airconditioning on 60 degrees - you know, just in case that stinking thermostat creeps above 70 again - that would be lovely.

Hi. I'm Sponge. Must have cleaned up some milk - cause I sure am sour today.

TIme for a pick up line!!!

2008-08-13T14:43:00.000-07:00

You know, if you were a booger, I'd pick you first.

It's good to be back

2008-08-11T20:35:00.000-07:00

So yeah, have been back in KC for a couple weeks - well, almost at least. Haven't had time to do much but suffer through the hottest days of the year and enjoy some of the nicest - some during band camp, others laying out drinking some beer on my back deck. Left my charger in Florida, so haven't had time - or really a way - to get on this computer, even after I picked it up from the Apple store in a attempt to make it prettier and you know, work better. Elle is still in Florida for the next week, so I'm stuck missing her for a little while longer - planning her sixth birthday party at the Zoo for this Saturday when she gets back.

Just catching up and hopefully will be back on track soon to keep you all entertained and titillated once again. . .

There's no place like home . . .

2008-07-22T20:59:00.000-07:00

Got all these tweets from the meetup tonight and realized how much I miss you folk - and Kansas City for that matter. Thought I'd chronicle a little of my adventures before I'm back on Saturday, and you know, back to the real world - where my responsibilities don't end at five. Most of the time I was working - around the state teaching camps, or working with my parents, or you know, spending time at the beach and stuff . . . but did get around to a couple fun things while I was here. My favorite was last week when I visited my friends Ariel and Hayden down in South Florida . . .thought I was going to dinner with Carl Hiassen, which didn't happen but would have been WAY cooler - but hey, I was hangin with the Little Mermaid, for dog's sake!! Went out for happy hour, had a barbeque at the house, went dancing a couple nights - but the best was on the last night, these two boys came up to me and told me they had been following me since the night before. They begged to buy me a drink and told me that they couldn't believe they were standing there with me - they thought I was a celebrity or something, it was hot! So, my only clue to all of you out there who are looking to start a fan club - just always keep an entourage of hot, young, gay men around and everyone will think you're famous!! What was even better, though, my three friends, is that that first night, when they first thought I was some celebrity, I had been dancing around in my big huge heels and acting the fool - as one should always act when wearing 4" sparkly fuck me pumps - and slipped on Ariel's recently spilled drink and slipped and landed right on my back . . . yes, in the middle of the dance floor . . . yes, landing right in the spilled drink - with my heely shoes straight in the air. . . BUT did I jump up really fast and hide in the nearest corner? NO!! Did I sheepishly stand up and pretend nothing happened? NO!! Did I X my body on the floor - in perfect rhythm and add two chest pumps for flavor - and THEN stand up and cross the floor and do it again in the other corner - never compromising the choreography! OH, yes - Yes, that is what I did. And that folks, is why I have a fan club and you do not. =) But actually even better than that was the next morning when I woke up in a puddle of now-dried confetti under me from all the crap that was all over the floor! Goodness, life is great when you can pretend to be 21 again . . .

Oh, goodness, and before I came back up here to Central Florida I did get to take a 15 mile bike through the Everglades that was amazing and overwhelming and just another reason why I miss Florida so much . . . (did I just say that?) More on this later - you know, like next month.

Hayden and I at the Bear-B-Q

Yeah, we're in love.

Not the president and CEO - but still, two members of my club.

The only gator I could get to pose in the Everglades (all the others wanted to do it on South Beach!)

Driving around, Miami style

At the beach with Jorge

Ariel and I in our first good picture together

Aren't We Cute?

2008-07-07T15:57:00.000-07:00

Hey everybody. Yes, that's my new purse. Yes, those are beads of lovliness that are acting as zipper pulls. Yes, it even has animal print AND sequins on it. Yes, it is super cute and wonderful. No, you can't have it. And yes, that is the wall of the Super 8 Motel behind me in fabulous Mulberry, FL - from which I will be traveling to Bartow for happy hour at Chili's - the only thing in town. Two more days of camp here, then on to Tampa for a quick jaunt at the Apple Store where I will wait in line for my new phone (if you don't know THAT story, you have been missing out) and have another 4 day camp where I just get to boss people around and don't have to teach a damn thing. =) Wish me luck in my pursuit of a 3G!! I miss you guys - have a couple hours to kill so will be checking up on ya'll and dropping some comments. See you soon!

Soakin up the Sun

2008-07-06T14:14:00.001-07:00

I can't really tell you what's up in Kansas City, because I'm not there, but I'll fill you in really quick with what's happening in my life. I have been in Florida since our last meetup - well, after a four day stint in McPherson, KS for dance camp with my team - have been teaching camps pretty much the whole time, really feeling all thirty of my years after a whole day of dancing followed by a night of drinking and then waking up to a morning of stretching and Zumba. I did go to Universal Studios with my family and spent Fourth of July in Palm Coast at Cinnamon Beach - lovely, lovely, lovely - watched the fireworks over the fort at St Augustine, walked around Old Town remembering my days in fourth grade when I thought that the Fountain of Youth was such a crazy idea - who wants to stay young?! - and enjoying my large, attention deficit, short-fused and crazy family. Said bye to my babies as they headed back to Kansas City while I remain here for the next 20 days - will teach camps for a while longer and stay for my younger sister's 10 year reunion. I have been sunburnt twice, and have perfected my mohawk hairdo, and can't wait to be back to see my peeps. Keep KC crawlin, and I'll see you in a few!!

Oh, oh, oh!!! Went to my neices' dance competition today where they won High Gold and Platinum scores and Kayla won first in her division and 5th overall - then celebrated by going to the outlet mall and finding a beautiful, wonderful, most lovely purse in the world!! Oh yeah, I'll take pictures and post later - never have been more excited for a purchase. =) Oh, and my mom wants to let you know that I have the best mother in the whole, wide world!! See ya'll on the flip side (and by flip side, I mean, back in the real world . . .)

P.O. (post oh's) - For those of you who I have taught how to cut the cheese, be prepared - it's already spreading like wildfire down here. Look for the single to come out on iTunes in no time!!

The Spank Dance (or Tatting Ass)

2008-05-15T08:06:00.000-07:00

For my good friend, Nuke

In my last post, I confused some people with some lingo . . . I guess I really am too hip for this blogging business. ;) But tatting ass is what I have always referred to when discussing major dorks on the dance floor pretending to be behind a girl - or other guy - and spanking their ass, sometimes in rhythm to the music - but most of the time not. Some major douche bags do it to emphasize a point, sans dance floor - like, "Yeah, she really wants my jock!!" followed by the spank dance. I even think there is a handbook out there - revised for 2008 - that includes the steps to total douchedom . . .

1. Say, "That's what she said!!!"

2. Bite bottom lip and limply nod your head, cocked to one side.

3. Tat that ass!! (Remember - keep mouth slightly open the whole time - preferably lip curled to one side)

Some stupid - namely wasted - girls will try to pull off the same dance with their friends to make them look sexy at the club. But usually the front girl just falls over and the girl doing the tatting feels really bad and starts crying on the dance floor and wishes she had just made out with her friend instead, like every other smart slut out there.

Here's a video that showcases some guys making fun of another guy's Spank Dance. I mean, cause they are way cooler, obviously.

I hope I've cleared this up a little.

As for scratching records, here is a picture of some cute kids learning how to scratch records at a DJ camp in New York City

Now imagine the aforementioned wastoid pretending to do the same thing on his friend's bald head, adding a audible, "wicka, wicka" at inappropriate and ridiculous times in otherwise quite enjoyable music. Then pumping his fist and pretending to hump the seat in front of him.

It was awesome. Actually, I wish I didn't understand what the fuck I was talking about either. Life would be so much more pleasant.

Worthy Old Men

2008-05-13T21:04:00.000-07:00

Went to see Elvis Costello and the Police tonight at Sprint Center.

Elvis started things out with a bang. Dance-able, singable, songs and great energy.

The Police were amazing. The lyrics of their songs have always held such meaning, and each song reminds me of a separate instance in my life when it was playing in the background. But tonight they held even more significance as I watched them flow from the lips and between the perfect teeth of a very beautiful man on a very large screen. Sting's voice is as crisp and clear as it always has been, even if he doesn't hit the high notes as he used to, and the music seemed very raggae-tastic (which may have been influenced by the doobie that was being smoked about two rows back). The videographer for the show was in perfect form tonight, and if this night isn't captured and sold on DVD, someone is missing out.

Great night. The annoying dude in front of me could use a clue (I would have paid him $20 to stop tatting ass to Don't Stand So Close to Me - and his bald friend next to him would probably have paid him $50 to stop scratching records on his noggin - total douche), and I really don't think they should sell flashing light toys at any event that doesn't include costumed characters, stories on ice, or boat loads of ecstacy. But it was a seamless production, the music was flawless, and the old men were hot!

Why you should give a shit about kids and their education

2008-05-09T08:29:00.000-07:00

(I mean, besides the fact that if you enjoyed school, found it to be challenging and rewarding, or even at least a little engaging, then most likely someone gave a shit about yours . . . )

Neighborhood schools are an essential part of community development. They bring pride to the neighborhood as well as involovement into the school. K-8 education in one building means that kids and families grow up with each other for 9 years and develop relationships, they create longer and more significant relationships with the administration so that discipline problems are decreased during middle school years and better, more individualized guidance is given for high school choice and beyond, it gives the older students a chance to mentor and be a positive role model for younger children. They tie students to their edudcation, not forcibly, but naturally. Neighborhood schools and community schools are the trend in many urban centers that have been looking for ways to improve their student achievement as well as their family involvement, community contribution and overall learning culture.
With Anthony Amato at the helm of the Kansas City Mo School District, there were changes made and feelings hurt and personalities that clashed, but one good move that was made was in the direction of neighborhood schools. Right now, kids are bussed all over town to this school or that one, with no real effort put into creating communities of learning. Kids are at the whim of their parents jobs, or where they can find cheaper rent, or whatever else motivates housing choices. We have a weak sense of community in many parts of our urban core, families have no real reason to stay in one area over another. With the creation of neighborhood schools - schools we can walk to and pick our kids up from without a 30-minute commute or busride, schools that employ residents of our community, schools that reach out to families because they are accessible and close, schools that host neighborhood meetings and social events, schools that view my children as an opportunity, not a challenge - we are giving families a reason to stay in a certain area, giving kids stability and confidence, as well as encouragement to work through their own challenges and a place to do that. With neighborhood schools, we give kids a network of adults, authority figures, and mentors to help bolster their confidence in their own success, assistance when they are struggling and an incentive to stay on course.
With Marilyn Simmons, one of the main opponents to Amato, as president of the school board, many of the positive plans and successful programs of the past few years for the school district are at stake. Not because they didn't work or show promise, but in stubborn defiance of past leadership. Its wrong to do to our kids, its wrong to do to our community. I know there is a lack of interest, a defeatist attitude when it comes to our school district, but this is one program that is already in effect, on its path to fruition, that we can not let die. This immature bs is what keeps KCMSD from getting out of the rut of provisional accredidation, and our local image of failure - but its because we don't say anything and we don't know what's going on that they can do whatever they want without any public discourse - besides us saying that the school board is ineffectual. The school board members have proven to be very effectual at getting what they want and fighting their own battles at the expense of our children and their education.

(Here's to hoping Airick is making some friends!!)

The Last Week of the Semester

2008-04-30T18:50:00.000-07:00

sucks.

I don't feel like eating - so why not FEAST!!

2008-04-18T11:48:00.000-07:00

Appetizer
Name a color you find soothing.
Light butter yellow
Soup
Using 20 or less words, describe your first driving experience.
No glasses. Driving my mom's car. Me: "Is there a median?" Sister: "No" Big bump. Sister:"Oh, that's a median?"
Salad
What material is your favorite item of clothing made out of?
Tweed
Main Course
Who is a great singer or musician who, if they were to come to your town for a concert, you would spend the night outside waiting for tickets to see?
Imogen Heap or Tori Amos
Dessert
What is the most frequent letter of the alphabet in your whole name (first, middle, maiden, last, etc.)?
E with 7

Dry

2008-04-18T09:05:00.001-07:00

My mom just called to let me know that my Aunt Jane died. She's been in Hospice with Colon cancer for some time now, so it was just a matter of time, but it's real now. She's gone. I have never been close to her, I've seen her probably 4 times in my life - the last time was last summer when I was up in Wisconsin meeting my parents after a trip to Chicago. We took a picture with her and my dad, me and Elle. Four generations . . . in my family of short life spans, this was quite a feat.

You see, she is my dad's real mom. She was 16 when she got pregnant (by a visiting German soldier) - and in the quintessential family secret story, she was sent to a 'boarding school' for a year and came back just in time to say goodbye to her older sister, Alice, who was moving to Florida with her husband, Bill, and their newly adopted baby boy. Alice, Bill and Jon would become the 'other' family - the one the rest of the Wisconsin clan would only see at funerals or special occasions. They bought some hotels in Lauderdale-by-the-Sea with Bill's sister, Dorothy. Little Jon would grow up living in these hotels, spoiled by the money the hotels brought in, eating dinner at the most expensive restaurants, watching his parents living the life of wealthy, popular, and out-of-control alcoholics. He spent many nights eating alone at the dock, or sneaking noodles from his Aunt Dorothy, pouring bottles of booze down the kitchen sink and wondering when his parents would come home. His only brother died at 11 days old. He was a very lively young boy, used to the best things money could buy - including clothing and gifts, happiness and friends.

In Wisconsin, Jane grew up and got over her lost baby boy. She fell in love with her sister Betty's husband's brother. Despite his strict Christian doctrine, he 'forgave' Jane her past transgressions, yet insisted no one was ever to know about this tainted past she had. They got married and had 5 kids - 3 girls, 2 boys. The family grew up among the other Quinn's - big family, tight family - and would sometimes remember to wonder about Alice and her little Jonny.

Grandma Alice told my mom the story of Jane when she went into labor with my older sister. She is still not sure today if it was because she was drunk, or felt the need to release the burden of this huge secret, or if it was in fact so that they would have as much family information for the new little baby. My mom was told that no one should know, no one should ever know, until Jane was gone.

My Grandma Alice died before I turned one year old. My Grandpa Bill got remarried and there's a whole other story from there. But my dad just carried on like he had since he was a little boy - by himself, being motivated by money and what it could bring him and his family. He never once told us he loved us without buying us something. He never visited his family in Wisconsin - he went back once for his father's funeral, 20 years ago. The few times we went up to visit, it was just me and my sisters and my mom.

Four years ago, he wrote a letter to Jane on Mother's Day to let her know that he knew . . . she never responded but since then she has sent him birthday cards and Christmas cards, and he calls her every Mother's Day and on her birthday. He found out that one of her sons lives right here in Lee's Summit - when my parents come to visit, we always go out for dinner. When they called him last week to tell him that she wouldn't make it through the weekend, he flew up there to see her. Jane's daughter - his half-sister he's never met, or at least doesn't remember - was in the room the whole time watching over her mom. I know he wanted so badly to say so much and to just hold her hand, but no one would understand why her adopted, half-nephew that they had never met would be weeping at the bedside of this dying old lady. They wouldn't understand his mourning of time lost, his appreciation for giving him a life she thought would be better, his goodbye to his final family member, and his acceptance of his life.

I am so sad for him today. I am sad that he does not have siblings to share in his grief, I am sad that he doesn't feel right going to the funeral, I am sad that he must be thinking of his own mom and dad that he lost so long ago, I am sad that I don't know enough of how he feels to even call him today. I leave tomorrow for Wisconsin to say goodbye to my Aunt Jane, a matriarch of my family, mother to my 2nd cousins, sister of my grandmother I never really met. I'll fly there with three men I don't know, who under different circumstances I would have grown up with, shared meals with, and most likely kicked their asses in Spoons. I will see people at the services who will ask me about my dad, who will wonder who I am and why I'm there, who will look like me, and who I will wish knew this secret I hold.

But it is a secret that will be buried with my grandmother on Monday.

Not as absorbant, but definitely worthy

2008-04-15T11:07:00.000-07:00

glumbert - Food Court Musical

And yeah, Chimpo, know it's old - but I love it.

Remember to Change Sponge Regularly

2008-04-01T21:30:00.000-07:00

100 posts!!

1 year!!

New Template!!

New Title!!

Why Sponge, you ask?

2008-04-01T20:01:00.001-07:00

Many times through this venture, I have been asked by my thousands of fans "Why Sponge? You're not yellow. You don't look particularly absorbant. You're not at all propholactic-y." Well, you know what, devoted devotees . . . I am the sponge because I wanna be the sponge!

I started out just being a commenter on a few local blogs - particularly The Kansas City Post, just after the primary city elections last February. I have never considered myself a political person . . . I mean, I did run a stellar campaign for Senior Class Treasurer that would go down in the books if anyone in high school was paying attention - but I do like the discussions that are sparked because of politics. I love listening to people who are passionate about their views - no matter where they lie or how wrong the are . . . and I empathize with those that fight so hard to be heard and am boggled by the political process and how it continues to resist logical justice. So when I set up an account so that I could comment on blogs, KC Sponge was the handle that made the most sense - I was trying to soak up all I could about the political and community scene in Kansas City . . . one I had neglected to pay attention to before, one that passed me by just as it passes so many people by that don't stand in the middle of the road and dare the traffic to run into them. And really, because I'm an attention whore and wanted people to say, "Who the Hell is this Fucking Sponge?!"

So yeah, this is my 99th and final post on "Law School Bound" . . . sad to see all those hits from people looking for hot law school chicks, or Obama's LSAT score, or 101 reasons not to go to law school . . . but can only hope that the hits for the new site are even better! Thank you all for reading even though I do a piss poor job of posting. Thank you all for being opinionated sons of bitches that make me reconsider my own thoughts and make me wish I had the time or commitment to write some of the amazing stuff I read every day - I wish I just had the time to keep up with all of it.

So, yeah, that's the Sponge . . . soak it up or squeeze it out!! See you on the flip side (you know, the tougher, more abrasive, usually green one.)

10 Things I Want To Do This Year in Kansas City

2008-04-01T13:15:00.000-07:00

10. See the Southeast Community Center open up with programming that competes with the suburbs' centers.

9. Watch Airick Leonard West be voted into office and create real change in the school district and inspire others to make a difference against seemingly insurmountable odds.

8. Watch Barack Obama be voted into office and create real change in our country and inspire others to make a difference against seemingly insurmountable odds.

7. Get my degree.

6. Get a new car.

5. Have a big freakin party to celebrate turning 30.

4. Watch Elle graduate kindergarten.

3. Spread tolerance like an airborne disease.

2. Blog a lot.

1. Eat lunch in a new spot each week.

Top 10 Things I Did in Kansas City in the Past Year

2008-04-01T12:32:00.001-07:00

10. Took Elle to Crown Center Ice Skating Rink and "What Do You Wanna Be?"

9. Saw Alanis Morrissette and Matchbox 20 at the Sprint Center

8. Brought my dance team to many competitions around the area

7. Attended the Viable Third Anniversary Party at Harper's 18th and Vine

6. Visited the new expansion of the Nelson-Atkins Museum

5. Saw Craig Ferguson at the Uptown Theater

4. Took Elle to Mattie Rhodes for Spring Break camp and went free after school swimming at the Tony Aguirre Community Center

3. Marched in the Brookside Parade

2. All my fun nights karaoke-ing at Missie B's, The Brick, and Paddy O'Quiggley's followed by many late nights at the Foundation

1. All my blogger meet ups . . . they've been great!!

Why I Love This Douche Schnozzle

2008-04-01T12:27:00.001-07:00

Cause we're sexy!!

Why I Hate This Douche Schnozzle

2008-04-01T12:23:00.000-07:00

Cause he's evil, right?!

Gotta Come Up With a New Title

2008-04-01T12:05:00.000-07:00

Thought today was as good a day as any to change the title of my blog . . . still bound for law school, whether its today or tomorrow - but don't think it encompasses what my content is (which I still haven't figured out for myself - another reason to go with a new title - inspiration!) My url will stay the same because I'm still going to sue the f out of all of anyway someday (especially you, the D, for trying to negotiate DIBBS!) I welcome suggestions, but will unveil by the time my 9th post comes out! Who knows - maybe I'm violating all that is holy in Bloggeraut - but fuck it. This is MY blog.

My Favorite 10 posts

2008-04-01T11:17:00.000-07:00

I wish I could write these everyday. But then I also wish I could have fried pickles every day.

My First Real Post

Hanging Out With Bloggers Remembering a Friend

My Fucking Bad Luck

Damn this Guy Must Have a Really Hot Brother!

My Kid Is Cute

One Day They'll Get it Right, Right?

I Like To Play Games

Umm, did I say my Kid is Cute - she's Freakin Cute!

I'm Really Good at Studying. I'm Really Good at Drinking Beer. Not so good at Studying While Drinking Beer. Or titling links.

Pick Me Up!

Post #1

2008-04-01T11:09:00.000-07:00

Thought I would be able to publish my 100th post on my year anniversary (today!) but don't think it's going to happen. Well, I'll make it happen, but I'm cheating in a big way. But still - 100 posts, about 5 having any merit, is not a big deal, but a lot more than I thought I would do. And I definitely did not post about my journey to law school in more than one. But I have met some incredibly fabulous people and this blogging venture has changed my life - I have met new friends, found new causes, and fallen in love with Kansas City even more. I hope my few readers forgive me for superfluous posts this afternoon, but a girls gotta have goals!

Um yeah - who needs a writer's strike?

2008-03-21T10:51:00.000-07:00

Fabulous.

She's rubber, his head is glue.

2008-03-19T07:35:00.000-07:00

Now I know why they use Chinese bodies in the Union Station exhibit - they save a bundle on latex.

Pick Up Line!!!

2008-03-17T08:52:00.001-07:00

What winks and fucks like a Tiger?

It's not meaningless if you mean it.

2008-03-17T08:48:00.000-07:00

My response to nay-sayers:

"It’s hard to kill a dragon when you stand alone with only your sword. It’s the ability to bring the village over to look at the dragon, talk about the dragon, and develop strategy to bring him down - that truly makes a knight noble. With the village behind you, your sword becomes sharper, your armor stronger, your passion deeper. You’re still only a small man against a massive beast, but from the masses you have encouraged a couple more to fight with you, and together - you are determined to bring him down. His aged skin is tough and his natural weapons are hard to bear, yet you penetrate his hide and scar his pride. You turn around with your battle wounds to rally more people and to forge more weapons. Because no matter how futile the effort seems, the dragon is still there.

And he’s eating our children."

Thank you, Thank you!!

2008-03-17T07:48:00.000-07:00

Thanks to everyone who came out on Friday night for the Viable Third Anniversary!! XO, Spyder, Kanga, Jim Waldo, A Librarian and my lovely co-host Dan, represented Kansas City well as we celebrated a blogging venture not to be forgotten. Thanks to Tony, for linking on his site and then posting a skeptical review of Airick this morning to remind me once again why the fight is so important!
The party reminded me of how small Kansas City is - new friends know blog friends, old students know favorite teachers, campaign people know friends of bloggers. It also reminded me why I started blogging - this community is where people from all over town, all through the spectrum of race, class and gender, all across the political board, come together and have conversations. . . conversations I can't find every day and conversations that need to happen. Thanks for coming out!!

And, a huge thank you to Myra Harper at Harper's 18th and Vine! If you have never heard of Strange Fruit or sampled food by this amazing lady, please go to lunch out at Harper's and discover what is possible in the pursuit of healthy AND delicious fare!

Viable Third Anniversary Party

2008-03-12T10:38:00.000-07:00

March 15th marks the one year anniversary of the Viable Third. In the spirit of voting with our dollars and supporting these businesses who are bringing vitality and variety to the third district, we will be celebrating with a Happy Hour at Harper's 18th and Vine on Friday night.

There will be some food and drinks and a chance to meet Dr. Robyne Turner and Airick Leonard West - the heart and soul of this movement. If you want to meet people that are doing things for our community today, dedicating their lives for the betterment of the children and citizens of our city, and want to know what you can do to help - or why they do the things they do - please, come out and share in the discussion!

Please share this invitation and become a part of the Viable Third!!

Im not dead - I swear!

2008-03-12T09:54:00.000-07:00

Yeah, I kinda fell off the face of the earth - first Elle came back from Mexico, all in one piece, thank you very much, had some dance competitions, fundraisers, midterms, you know - craziness in a bottle!! Not to mention the fun times had at the meetup that had me moving a little slowly for a couple days. It seems a little late to talk about it now - Faith, Heather, Spyder, and Average Jane posted about the good times, and I can't wait for the next one!

ps

2008-02-26T16:27:00.001-08:00

The KU game will be playing at Paddy O'Quggley's tomorrow night during the meetup - good size screens up everywhere (in the restrooms as well, so I'm told) - AND we'll have tables reserved starting at 4 - so KC Bloggers will have some of the best seats at a downtown sports bar if you get your ass down there! (Not that KC trivia, my totally tubular party planning skills, the company of some pretty - ummm . . . quirky? - people and some fantabulously bad karaoke isn't enough to persuade even the faintest of hearts to bring their lovely booties down to the Quig!)

Folks, I'm serious. Get there.

Yes folks, he wrote a song about me.

2008-02-26T14:11:00.000-08:00

Forgot to link and introduce my new bloggy friend, Keri Oke - you guys should check out her Lounge and fall in love. She's a cool chick - honest and funny! But anyway, I kinda convinced her to invite me last week to the Rob Thomas concert (oh, I mean Matchbox 20) . . . but things happened and she couldn't get back into town (yada, yada - I think you all just told her that I smell or something and she got scared - thanks a lot.)

BUT, I decided I was going to go anyway. I scalped some tickets off the street and got some kick ass seats (well, actually only one - but kick ass seat just sounds stupid.) I was in the 7th row in section 116 - right next to the stage. The ticket was far better than I would have bought for myself had I gone online - that is why impulse buys are the best! But I have to tell ya that I love the Sprint Center - parking is far better than in Orlando, Miami, San Antonio, Los Angeles, Chicago - or really anywhere, the seats (probably more for their newness than anything else) are incredibly bouncy and comfortable, security and staff are pretty knowledgeable - or if they don't know anything, at least they're friendly, they have an open drunk-policy (I only saw two people escorted out - where FAR more would have been kicked to the curb had I been wearing the snazzy yellow shirt), and boy, is it shiny!
But more importantly, it was just an all-around kick ass show. Wish I had seen more of these guys:

They freaking rocked the house - their drummer is amazing - all around rocktastic! The only reason I didn't throw a hissy fit when they were done with their last set is because it meant Alanis was coming next:

I love her. There is no greater gift than Alanis giving me "My Humps" on stage. I'm sorry I don't have video of her harmonica or her fabulous hair swinging godessness, but I was too busy watching and trying to figure out a way to put her in my pocket. That is, if I could get my other hand out.

And really, it makes me laugh to think that Alanis is opening up for Matchbox 20. In high school, we used to go to Hard Rock at Universal Studios on Friday Nights to watch local rock bands play on the small stage. We would chill with our cokes on the hard wood floor and watch old(er - younger than I am now!) ladies swoon over the guys in the bands and make idiots of themselves. One time, I kinda dozed off during one of Tabitha's Secret's sets. My friends shook me awake when the lead singer started to sing a song about the bitch who fell asleep at his concert. That's right - about ME!! =D One can only hope in her lifetime to have a song written in her honor - "Lady in Red", "The Way You Look Tonight", "Tooti Fruity" . . . well, I no longer had to dream!

But, I have to tell you, they were dynamic and wonderful - and even their pop-y hits are well written and performed with passion and peppered with utter sexiness!

Rocks Stars - the lot of them. Consummate musicians across the board. Loved the show!

And if you're wondering what I took these videos with - I did end up buying that Canon TX1 I blogged about. It really proved itself last night and had I been paying attention to taking the pictures instead of rocking out, you could see how big a punch that little sucker puts out.

I hope you all can make it to the Meet Up - especially you who have never been! We need some new people to make fun of! =) Just joking - it will be fun and I'd like to get to know some of you out there who are cracking me up and keeping me updated every day!

Meme me up, Scotty

2008-02-21T08:49:00.000-08:00

Okay, so Emaw tagged me. I'm supposed to give you all an account of a Twilight Zone Moment in my life. I've been thinking about it and I can't really pinpoint one moment. But there are some strange things about me that make me feel like my life is some experiment of evil doers who are out to creep me out, and I will share them with you to let you know how paranoid I am:

The number 1134 has haunted me my whole life. I am an avid reader of digital clocks - I can find meaning in any displayed time - military or otherwise (I also grew up in the time when pagers were all the rage, so spelling things out with numbers was a honed skill of mine). . . and 11:34 upside-down is 'hell'.
My mom's water broke at 11:34 the night before she gave birth to me (and who writes that time down in their kid's baby book . . . now, really!), the book Uchigikishu was written in Japan in the year 1134 (do you know what that means!?!), I once guessed that there were 1,134 jelly beans in a jar - and I didn't win the contest (do you see a pattern here?), after my roommate at FSU got pregnant, they moved me to the 11th floor into - you guessed, it - room 1134 (yeah, an ALL GIRL floor!), and this one time, I bought 100 dozen fake diamond rings (don't ask), there were a lot that were broken so I counted them to make sure I only paid for the ones that weren't - you guessed it: one thousand, one hundred and thirty four rings were intact.

Creepy, right?

I also get really scared at movies . . . not like Freddy vs Jason or People Under the Stairs (won't even watch those movies - I like my heart to continue beating, thank you very much) but like Schindler's List and Jurassic Park - oh, and Independence Day. I have a hard time separating myself from the action in movies - I scream for help, I run down the aisles, I hide behind the chairs, and won't put my feet on the ground in fear of someone grabbing my ankles and pulling me into their hell that I'm witnessing on the screen. I get a lot of people whispering that it will be okay, offering their hand to squeeze, or yelling that it's not happening to me . . . and when finally my nightmare is over and the credits are rolling, I get the joy of people staring at me or looking in my general vicinity for the crazy girl in the back of the theater.

I think the reason I get really scared at movies is the incredibly lucid dreams I have. Night Terrors is what they called them when I was young, and pieces of shit is what I call them today. I have reoccurring dreams that involve impending doom, my running away from it as well as my inability to find proper hiding spaces, made up prophecies from different scriptures, me sleepwalking (I once woke up in my front yard hugging the Magnolia tree). Even when I wake up from these dreams, I am not in reality . . . it takes me a few minutes to calm myself down - sometimes waking up Elle to cuddle with me (a 5 year old's sleepy jokes are SO much better than a teddy bear!). They don't happen as often as they used to - but they suck just the same.
One dream I still continue to have has these face masks - you know, the drama masks for comedy and tragedy - and they're supposed to represent some awful place where people go to die and then come back to life. When people fall in these masks - kinda like quick sand (another thing I've feared my whole life and dream about often) - they're gone for like 3 days and come back at their funeral to terrorize everyone that has come back to memorialize them - and I'm always the only one who finds a problem with them walking around punching, kicking, berating, stabbing and yelling at people - everyone else kinda just walks around with big grins on their faces and the drama masks are always represented somewhere . . . and its always someone I kinda know that is the one that dies - never someone close to me or someone who has died. Weird - I hate that dream.
And I always have dreams where I'm running away from something and trying to hide - those are the ones where I wake up the most scared . . . always before I'm found or before I am killed or right when I fall and can run no further.
I had a dream once where I killed my neighbor and someone was coming up the walkway to the house, but I couldn't get her body to fit under the couch, so I started chopping her up and putting her body parts under the cushions . . . so when this person came in, we sat down and visited and she left with a big blood stain on her pants - and I really felt bad about her pants, but not really about my neighbor whose bloody body I was sitting on.
I once asked my doctor what I should do about these dreams - he told me to have a glass of wine before bed. But drunk dreaming is even more dangerous . . .

I'm sure there is some dream interpreter out there that is taking this in and thinking - wow, this girl has issues. I'm here to say, sure - but, hey, you interpret people's dreams for a living . . . whacko!! =)

Strange things happen to everyone every day. I know that if I ever encountered a ghost or ever had some freaky thing really chase me - I'd be the first to lay down and wait to die. I'm a wimp, that's for sure, not a fighter. But I'd scream my bloody lungs out . . . cause, hey - thats fun!

Anyone game for a Chamber after hours event?

2008-02-21T08:06:00.000-08:00

There is an After Hours event tonight at PowerPlay in Shawnee, KS. I like going to these things because of the wine and people watching - but this month it's at an entertainment complex . . . I'm sure they have skee ball if anyone's interested in getting their ass kicked.
It's $10 at the door for chamber members (if you work at a company that is a member, YOU are a member as well) and if you're not, we'll get creative!! Email me if you're interested.
I then am going to The Other Place in Downtown Overland Park for some NTN action and maybe over to Missie B's for karaoke. I'll be the girl all by myself having more fun than everyone else - unless someone joins me . . . then I'll be the girl kicking people's asses in skee ball, schooling them in trivia, and showing them up on stage. Dont I sound like great company?

My PhotoBooth is Empty

2008-02-21T06:13:00.001-08:00

Will someone go kidnap this kid from Mexico and bring her back to me? She just cut herself some "bombs" so she looks really stylish.

This is going to be a long seven days . . .

Lonely blogger

2008-02-17T23:15:00.000-08:00

My parents came into town last week and tried to go home today but the weather forced them to stay. They leave tomorrow back to sunny Florida and then everyone else leaves on Thursday for Mexico. I'm scared of my old, scary house - especially after seeing the Spiderwick Chronicles (the scariest movie ever!) last night - so keep me in your thoughts as you make plans over the next week:

"Oh, we're doing something fun and not scary . . . we should invite Sponge."

"I have a big, nasty dog that I need a house for for a week - I wonder if there's anywhere I can keep him . . . "

"Who is that ogre stalking outside that cute, yellow house? I should stun him with a spell and save the poor unassuming girl inside."

Or, at least dont TP my house this weekend. I get really jumpy and I know where the air rifle is . . .

It's Official

2008-02-10T12:08:00.000-08:00

KC Blogger Meet Up

Paddy O'Quigley's
100 E 20th Street (just east of Hereford House)
Kansas City, MO

Wednesday, February 27th
4:00 - ??? (Karaoke starts at 9pm)

There will also be Kansas City trivia - and kick ass prizes!!

This is not a meet up to miss!! Please post if you wish - but get your bootie down here!!

Umm, a blogger meetup I can attend . . .

2008-02-06T11:05:00.000-08:00

You know - because I'm calling it!!

You folks have two choices -

Thursday, February 21 at The Other Place in Downtown Overland Park for some NTN action - and optional karaoke at Missie B's to follow.

OR

Wednesday, February 27 at Paddy O'Quigley's downtown. It's quite a boring bar, but they have big tables, its light and not too loud, and they have nice table taps that pretty much rock - OH, and karaoke that starts at 9pm if anyone wants to stay.

Let me know what works for you guys - maybe I'll do both!!! Elle is in Mexico that week . . .

And yeah, I'll go all by myself - but I'd really rather not. So come join me!!

I want to throw up.

2008-01-29T10:56:00.000-08:00

"This idiot should have been the victim of the abortion he probably believes in! Sorry, but that's the kindest thing I can say about him."

Just read this in a comment on Little Miss Chatterbox's post on Bush's speech.

It's while reading things like this that I can really start to understand intolerance.

My Weekend . . .

2008-01-06T11:19:00.000-08:00

Went and saw Craig Ferguson at the Uptown on Friday night - it was quite a show. One of his writers opened up for him and was quite hilarious . . . but kept going back to stupid gay jokes that weren't even funny. And, he started out on stage saying, "Hello, Kansas!" The poor guy got yelled at by half the audience before he was on stage for 2 minutes. But Craig is freaking hilarious. I love him because he laughs at himself the entire time - just like on The Late Late Show, but even more so live because apparantly he was trying out new stuff. If he ever comes back into town, or you're ever somewhere and he's doing a show - go see it. Super cheap and worth every penny (and I mean that in a better way than it sounds. =)

I just wonder what they did after the show? I know they ate at Jack Stack for dinner - but where do people go when they come here for gigs and such. Does every traveling act see Kansas City as the Westin Crown Center and Barbecue? That would be a shame.

Anyway - went to the Mango Room for dinner and drinks and to watch my friend's band, Trio JooJoo. Molly has quite an amazing voice and they're there every Friday and Saturday night - go check em out and have some Fried Green Tomaotoes (ask for them without the sauce - or on the side) - Happy Hour from 9-close!

Went dancing at The Levee when she was done. It's always my favorite place to dance - the music is great, the atmosphere is chill, and you get a crazy mix of people - and nowhere else in town are you guaranteed a chance to dance to "Mustang Sally". I was told by one of the band members that I was the 'Dancingest Dancer' he had ever seen - don't quite know what that meant, but I'll take it as a compliment! Thanks, dude!!!

We then headed over to the Brooksider - cause that's what I do at the end of the night and I don't want to stop dancing. It sucked royally - the DJ downstairs always is pretty bad - probably because he's the bartender as well - but there was hardly anyone there. It just blows.

Last night, I met some friends at SideKicks and did some linedancing and two-stepping - but they brought out Madonna, Britney and Cher every once in a while, so did some rug cutting there as well! Super Fun times!!

After they closed, I headed over to the Foundation. I always love it there and am always amazed at the immense talent that shows up so freaking late. I closed it down at 6am (did I mention that I'm a rock star!) - oh, and saw my bartender from Friday night at the Mango Room!

It was the last weekend of my vacation and I guess I lived it up!! Back to the grindstone now, I guess. =P

Barack Obama

2008-01-04T08:49:00.000-08:00

How can you watch this and not want this man to lead our country. I look forward to listening to him throughout the campaign process - even if he's blowing smoke up my ass - at least its smoke that smells good. At least he rallies people around hope - not fear, he gives ideas of unity - not superiority, he preaches peace - not war. If experience gives us more of what we have today - I say fuck it. I want the naivety, I want the hope, I want speeches I can listen to and smile - and not because I'm making fun of the man. And between a fake car salesman, a divisive hard-nose, and this man - I don't see that there is a hard choice to make.

The Viable Third

2008-01-03T19:48:00.000-08:00

Dr. Robyne Turner over at the Viable Third has posted a request to get the word out about the website, their mission, and our own personal commitments to as many people as we can. Don't have too many readers here, but implore you all to check out the website, and consider making your own pledge to support the most neglected district in the city.
I find this effort to be one of the most refreshing and significant challenges to all residents of Kansas City, and as Dr. Turner states in her latest post - it's a novel idea to a lot of us, but we're not doing much to support it or to further its message and impact. So, today, here on my blog - I pledge to only use my pickup lines in the third district! =) J/K!! I will find a community center or boys and girls club to volunteer in at least 2 hours a week - have tried in the past, but will not be discouraged. I do not buy much (except I guess gadgets!), but will purchase my gas in the third and try to eat lunch once a week there as well. That is my pledge. It's small . . . but important. And please, if you read this - go check out the website
VIABLE THIRD
and think about making a pledge yourself, and tell everyone you know about it.
Dr. Turner and Airick Leonard West are two people here in the city making positive change. I would hate to watch their efforts be thwarted by a lack of interest or us just reveling in novelty instead of action. Thanks!

I need a new camera

2008-01-03T09:45:00.000-08:00

My camera has been really sucky lately and I need to get a new one. . .

I want a Canon because I love the picture quality and miss my old one, but I also want to be able to take longer video. I really like the TX1 - because its cute and I love fun toys and its small and it supposedly takes fine still phots and video.

Does anyone out there know about this camera or have one? Or do you have another camera to recommend?

Thanks.

Does anyone else love NTN trivia?!

2008-01-01T12:56:00.000-08:00

Where are good places to play in KCMO?

Resolve

2008-01-01T12:47:00.001-08:00

Okay - so this is a new year and I'm supposed to make resolutions and stuff, but I really have too many decisions to make, so resolutions will just have to wait. But I have told myself that I need to make time for writing more entries in my blog - I mean, for all you people out there! =) 2008 is a year where I will graduate, turn 30, and start law school - so some organization would be nice as well. And now that my kid's five, I guess I have to stop blaming pregnancy and breast feeding for my poor eating habits and flabby body. Being a student for the past 24 years of my life, and teaching at schools and in the summer for the past 10, I tend to look at life a semester at a time - so I continually make mini-resolutions every 4 months - one day I'll have to change that mentality, but for now, it works for me.
My parents made a resolution to get healthy in 2008 - actually, my mom did and will force my dad to go along - but I think its a good thing. My dad got in a horrible car accident about 8 years ago - structurally it ruined him, but functionally he was fine. He was in traction for 8 weeks and is now built out of metal. He has the worst dietary habits ever - he only eats hamburgers or steak or roast beef and mashed potatoes, french fries or potato chips - oh, and black olives and wax beans. Needless to say, this doesn't help him in the weight arena. He was 130 pounds when he married my mom, gained about 40 pounds in muscle when he was in the Air Force, and since he turned 30 - has gained over 100 pounds in belly. I get all my competitiveness from my father - he's an active man who is good at everything he tries, and likes everyone to know that, too - but now he works around the yard when he can and is run down after a day working with kids. He has this excuse now that he can't do as much - but doesn't understand how much easier his bionic body would move if he didn't bog it down with so much weight. Oh, I also get all my stubbornness from him - so it's not like anyone can tell him what to do. But I want my dad around as long as I can keep him. I lost all my grandparents by the time I was 20 - all before they were 70 years old. All before I realized how amazing they were, or could really relate to them as people instead of these nice old people that like to give me stuff. I want Elle to know Popopotamus (what she calls him) for more than the storyteller, chasing monster, and doting grandpa that he is to her today - I want her to have time to get the know the intelligent, kind, stubborn, frustrating, funny, social, and hard-working man that I have gotten to know and love and accept over my lifetime.
And so, for that reason, I am starting an online fitness contest with my family. Because its the one thing that we all relate to - competition - and the one thing that we can't deny, or debate its benefit. (Well, we could definitely find something to debate about it - I'm sure). And it's the one time I'm rooting for someone else to win.

Ummm - if you read this . . . .

2007-12-14T14:00:00.000-08:00

Union Cafe closes at 3pm on Fridays - new management is supposed to be developing fun stuff I guess later - so I will be at Pierpont's. Sorry the late notice - I'm really only expecting XO, so if anyone else is comin . . . meet me there! (I'll buy you a martini if you show!)

School is cool.

2007-12-13T11:30:00.001-08:00

Finished my final last night - a little too fast, but I'm confident I did pretty well (except the extra credit - does anyone know what a situs is - no googling it either!). Also did my presentation - my professor made fun of my board, but its all good - I knew he would. Very nice end to a semester that has kinda knocked me out.
Vincent Gauthier was the professor for my class. He is the director of the Port Authority here in Kansas City (yes - we have ports, people!) and also a developer and historic preservationist (the Premiere Preservationist in KC if you ask him). Quite fabulous, though, and the class is great. If you have any interest in the city and how development deals are put together or just need an excuse to grill the greasy developers, bankers, and lawyers who he brings in to class every week - I highly advise you to take the class - Urban Redevelopment. For fun. For real. Do it.
After class - my friend Darren2 and I went to go see Jeff and Vida (only have Safari on this computer so can't add the link right now - it's www.jeffandvida.com) at Davey's Uptown. Check em out - they rock! Another professor of mine, Jacob Wagner, was playing the mandolin with them - it was quite fabulous . . . Got a little tipsy off the $1.50 house beers and talked a little too much. Had a contest with this big dude to see who had the saddest song - I think I won on vocal quality alone. =) But Jacob is yet another wonderful asset to UMKC and to Kansas City. He is a consummate planner, a virtual grant magnet, expert on New Orleans and historic preservationist (the Premiere Preservationist in KC if you ask him.) I've only had him for the History of Urban Planning and Design - but have worked with him on other projects and will definitely find out where he's playing next. I highly advise you to do the same as well - and then make him sit and share a Guinness with you and ask him about Kansas City or planning or New Orleans or proper beer mixes - anything - and sit back and learn.
But yeah, that's what I like so much about being in school. The people I have met who are out there doing stuff in the city - and the people who want to so badly. I have so much to learn from all of them . . . classmates, professors, librarians, guest lecturers - even the assholes who throw frisbees at my head as I walk to class . . . I think I'm addicted. My only saving grace is that I hate writing papers - so there will always be that to encourage be to be done already!
I'm just sad that the semester is over - but looking forward to my classes next semester - and being done, finally. Oh, yeah, and starting all over again in the fall! Yipee!! Oh, and applications and personal statements and recommendations galore. OOOOOOOhhhh - gotta go.

Last day of the semester

2007-12-12T11:49:00.000-08:00

Okay, so tonight is my last final - and I'm just putting the finishing touches on my board for a presentation and I realize how much it resembles a poster I made for a contest in 3rd grade. But its way to much fun to cut and paste and make pretty drawings then to create everything on a silly computer - and my handwriting is better than any font out there. Will I ever make it in the real world? I don't think I want to, actually, if I have to make things boring to make them presentable. And anyway, I won that freakin poster contest in 3rd grade. Just sayin . . .

If my left leg was Hanukkah and my right leg was Christmas . . .

2007-12-10T10:47:00.001-08:00

would you come over to my place and eat between the holidays?

HiYa Folks!! So yeah, been kinda busy of late - traveling here and there, doing school work, being deathly ill - you know, wintery things. . . I've been online intermittently - trying to keep up with everyones blogs as I can - commenting ever so slightly, wishing I could have been at Harvesters and not in Grand Rapids, MI in the middle of a snow storm . . . you know, stuff like that.
But I thought we could meet up this Friday if people are interested - Union Cafe for Happy Hour - there's always room - and the train will still be up and the tree, too. Maybe I can fenagle (don't know how to spell that word, but it's super cute this way - like a Beagle mix) a sneak peak to the basement as they ready themselves for Bodies Revealed (or whatever dead body exhibit's comin to town). Not an official blogger meetup, but a par-tay for cool people that blog - or read blogs - or know what a blog is - or heard about blogging in Time magazine. And Hanukkah ends tomorrow - so it will be between the holidays - so my invite would be right! And my semester is over on Wednesday, so happy hour will begin at like 11am . . . so anytime after that, you will find me wither upstairs, downstairs, or maybe climbing up the ladder at Pierpont's. The swinging karaoke party will have to wait until January - haven't had time to plan such a fest (maybe we'll make it in February - and I'll have the D dress up in diapers to be our personal little cupid - yeah, that sounds good!) - but still wanted to see you guys before next year. I leave for Florida on the 19th, so if you can't come on Friday, let's find a day to do lunch. =) See you all soon!

No time to blog - but . . .

2007-11-12T12:02:00.000-08:00

Why I teach hip hop . . .

2007-11-08T15:31:00.000-08:00

For XO

2007-10-22T17:31:00.000-07:00

Did you buy those pants at the NASA gift shop?

'Cause your butt is out of this world!!

My New Friend

2007-10-22T16:26:00.000-07:00

I had a very bad day last Wednesday and really needed someone to talk to.

I was in Westport on Thursday looking for that perfect someone and found him right on the corner by the SunFresh. I took him home and no longer had dreads about LSAT scores, lost phones, wet cars, or silly high school girls. With him by my side, I knew everything was going to be all right.

With the right settings, he is all that I need.

SeeqPod Music beta - Playable Search

LSAT Score

2007-10-22T15:58:00.000-07:00

I didn't post anything after I took my LSAT because I was very upset with my performance on the test. I knew I had done poorly and it was a let down for myself, especially since I had been doing well on my practice tests and am usually a very good standardized test taker. I knew I had done poorly - and the worst part was that I screwed up my favorite section. Got my score this weekend and did even worse than I thought. I told myself that I would not take it again in December - statistics show that scores do not change significantly when taken a second or third time - but I know that sending in an application with my score won't get me into schools that I know would be lucky to have me. =) I mean, I'm doing it for them. Not my ego. I take it knowing I risk maybe fucking up again and having to submit not only one, but two scores that prove my ineptitude - the second one clearly defining not only my lack of reasoning skills but my total rejection of reality as well. But I think it's worth the risk. The section I knew I messed up on - the analytical reasoning (logic puzzles - oh yeah) - had 13 incorrect responses, 12 of which were not answered because of my poor time management and lack of 5-minute warning. This was the second section on my test. In the other 3 sections, I missed 16 total - 12 in the last two sections - AFTER I blew the logic puzzles. And reading my response to the essay portion at the end, I clearly had given up. I don't know . . . I could just say screw it and hope that my GPA is good enough to woo the admissions people to give me a chance, or rely on my personal statement and glowing recommendations . . .

No, I have to take it again. I must. I don't let myself get a 68% on a freakin midterm exam, let alone the 2nd most important test of my life. I'm weak, I know - I let numbers define me. It has plagued me through childhood up through today. Didn't want to post this at all, but forced myself to put it out there . . . 155. My score.

Bleh.

Kevin Fox Gotham

2007-10-17T14:58:00.000-07:00

Went to see Kevin Fox Gotham at Rockhurst last night. Had to read his book, Race, Real Estate and Uneven Development for a couple different classes for Urban Studies over the years. It's a fabulous book and a must-read for anyone who cares about the development of the Kansas City MSA and its role in the segregation and racial degradation that continues to exist in our city today. But having read his book, attending an event that was geared towards an academic audience, and having basic knowledge of the choices and practices of the real estate industry over the years - such as redlining and blockbusting, which are virtual stars in his book - I was kinda disappointed in the content of his lecture. I have copious notes from the event, and I believe that as long as there are still issues that continue today - somebody better be talking about them - but come on, give us something to think about. Bring something new to the table.
He could have started by saying that the first step to erasing the legacy of state- sanctioned racial segregation is to overcome the 'great hurdles' of eradicating Racially Restrictive Covenants on people's property. I don't get what is so hard about this. I have a lot to learn about deeds, covenants, ownership, etc - I understand that. But houses are bought and sold every day with property rights attached to them - are we saying that these are not ammendable? Are we saying that there is no way around changing such a horrible, hurtful, and degrading choice of a man 75, 100 years ago. Or are we saying it's just not worth it? Shelley vs. Kraemer made these restrictions unenforcible 60 years ago. That changed a whole culture. I just want to change a couple words. And if there are still bigoted bitter home-owners that want to keep these words of hate and intolerance in their land - I want them to have to fight for it.
He did say that the big challenge is to get people to look at our problems of uneven development and segregation of schools as a metropolitan issue rather than a localized, 'urban' problem. He said that all cities in the metro need a housing policy - so that affordable housing, and problems associated with providing it and dispersing it, become that of the whole MSA and not just the already-struggling inner city. He did say that we must be environmentally and ecologically responsible in our development. He did say that people have gotten around illegal racial segregation by holding on the the sanctioned class segregation that is upheld in the suburbs. He said good things. He always has. There was just nothing new.
But I must say it was a damn good book report - and he looked good delivering it. I'd see it again. But would rather a sequel than a re-run. Maybe I'll have to go to New Orleans to get his new shit. Anyone up for a road trip?

Is this black cloud following everyone today?

2007-10-17T14:38:00.000-07:00

Today has really sucked. I started out losing my cell phone at the high school - I looked for it everywhere and couldn't find it and finally had to just accept that I had to go on with life without it for the day. Thought I would call it and ask whoever answered it to keep it for me - or turn it in to the office - but my suspicions that I had not yet paid my bill yet were confirmed when I realized it had been turned off. Had to pay the bill online and then wait for my service to be reactivated so that I could call and beg whoever answered to save me from my no-phone-ness. But then remembered that I turned the ringer off this morning before I lost it. My efforts to keep a good outlook have not worked out so well. It was raining like a B today on my way to school - and there was not a parking spot to be found, and I was waiting for like 5 minutes for one car to leave a space and it turned out it was handicapped! Finally found a spot and after my first class, it was nice out so I walked across campus to a meeting (oh, no - I didn't get the umbrella out of my car, silly!) and afterwards found myself with a wall of water to walk through to get back to my car. And I finally got in to find a big puddle in my seat - I left the sunroof glass open - the rain seeped through the canvas cover and was dripping on my head all the way to pick up Elle from school.

I wish I could blame bad luck for this fabulous day - but no, just absent-minded stupidity is all I have to offer. Dang!!

huh-uh, I said poll

2007-10-16T12:43:00.000-07:00

Yeah - take my poll - should have my results back in the next 5 days . . . we'll see how accurately I display my intelligence (or lack thereof) in this blog.

Uh . . . do you wanna play tennis?

2007-10-15T11:47:00.001-07:00

I'll be the racquet . . . you can just bounce your balls all over my face.

(sorry for two pick up lines in one week - saw this picture and couldn't resist. Don't have time for much else right now.)

It's cold.

2007-10-13T11:37:00.000-07:00

If you get cold tonight, my thighs make wonderful earmuffs.

It's so true . . .

2007-10-12T14:18:00.000-07:00

Your Karaoke Theme Song is "Baby Got Back"

You're a total show off who is willing to risk looking like a fool to get a few laughs.
In fact, you'll go for the cheap laugh if you need to... because it's better than no reaction!

Your friends can count on you to get a party started, and you'll party hard until you can't remember their names.
You're charismatic, charming, and a total character. With or without a few drinks in you.

You might also sing: "I Touch Myself," "Oops I Did it Again," or "My Humps"

Stay away from people who sing: "Candle in the Wind"

What's Your Karaoke Theme Song?

Got this from I, Shane - a new addition to my favorites. EMAW has it, too. They're both of the Margaritaville style. So not as fun as me.

Frazzled

2007-10-02T12:26:00.000-07:00

Life is crazy. Good thing my hair's not.

Just My Luck Post #1

2007-09-25T07:41:00.000-07:00

I've run into a lot of bad luck in my life (leaving me with a lot of bruises) and always swore I would write a book about all my grace-induced stories one day. Well, if ever I do - this will be Chapter One . . .

Back in high school . . .

--WAIT - screw that, I think I'll write a screenplay instead.--

FADE TO BLACK

FADE IN

Main character, Googley (*my real nick name in high school . . . there are many claims as to who came up with the name, what inspired it, and whether malicious intent was involved or not), is walking out to the parking lot at Apopka High School. We see the Darter in the pond and the students walking out at the end of the day. Googley walks towards her Dodge Omni parked in the first space in the Senior Lot - painted with the Handicapped Wheelchair dude.

CAR HORN HONKS BEHIND HER

GOOGLEY
Oh hey, Kris . . . what's up?

GOOGLEY WALKS TOWARDS PASSENGER SIDE OF GREEN BRONCO AND LEANS IN THE WINDOW

KRIS
Yo, Googley (did I mention I went to school with a bunch of gansters) are you gonna go to Wendys today?

GOOGLEY
Don't know - why?

KRIS
Thought you might want to throw your keys away again. HA HA - snort -

GOOGLEY reaches in to smack KRIS in the head for being such a dimwit.

As she leans in, driver of Green Bronco, DANA (oh yeah, a boy - who's best friends Cary and Kelly were also boys . . .) pulls away to save poor Kris from the solid steel that is GOOGLEY's hand.

The force of the car flips GOOGLEY into the air. She lands on the ground in time to have her left arm be run over by the back tire of the Bronco. She lies on the ground in shock for a couple minutes before she realizes her skirt is flipped over as well and exposing her panties. She starts to giggle along with everyone else and then faints on the asphalt.

FADE TO BLACK

FADE IN

GOOGLEY is at home wearing a cast on her left arm.

GOOGLEY (on the phone)
Yeah, we couldn't find Snickers all day yesterday. But I woke up this morning and she was under my bed with her three kittens - and a lovely stain. It was nasty . . . but the kitties are so cute! Butterfinger, KitKat and Oreo. Oreo's the cutest - all black with a white stripe down his back. Oh, wait - I hear them crying upstairs . . .

Hangs up and throws the phone on the couch.

Runs up the stairs and at the 10th step, trips UP the stairs and screams out in pain

GOOGLEY
Oh, MOTHER MAY I!!

GOOGLEY starts to whimper and the sound mixes with the pitiful mewing of the kittens. Frame pans up towards GOOGLEY's room and GOOGLEY's whimpers start to fade as the cats's cries get louder. We are brought under a bed where two young kittens are drinking from their mother's teat and a third one is under its mothers tongue - his death as obvious as the white line down his black back.

FADE OUT

FADE IN

KRIS loading a wheelchair into the back of his own truck in GOOGLEY's driveway.

GOOGLEY
Thanks for taking me to school . . . I only have to be in the wheel chair until my arm is out of the cast - then I can use crutches. And you know how Gangster Googley (my younger sister) is - she's too embarrassed to take me, and her pom pons take up most of her trunk space anyway.

KRIS
Oh, it's all good in the hood.

CUT TO Parking Lot of school. Kris parks in a space across from Googley's. He helps get the wheelchair out and she gets in. He pushes her through the empty parking spot towards the ramp down to the circle driveway in front of the school.

GOOGLEY (always the funny one . . . )
You know, you can just let me go at the top of the ramp.

KRIS brushes the ash from his jacket as he tries to rub the THC from his eyes.

KRIS
TRUE!!

KRIS, the fucking idiot, lets go of GOOGLEY's wheelchair at the top of the ramp. The wheelchair picks up speed and we see GOOGLEY's face full of fear of being sprung into the nasty lake in the middle of the circle driveway ('scusting!!) but LOE and BEHOLD - what comes to her rescue, but a 1989 silver Volvo wagon waiting in the circle - ready to stop her chair from the nastiness by crushing her knees and eating her lip.

FADE OUT

FADE IN

Close up of Vicodin bottle in GOOGLEY's purse - slung on the back of her wheelchair as she is pushed through the hallways by her good friend Kelly - a girl this time - adorned with "Googley Crossing" signs. Her fat lip does not hide the smile on her face.

So, what do you think? I think I have a magical way with dialogue - don't you agree? there's many more of these to come . . .

My argument against Pragmatism

2007-09-21T10:29:00.000-07:00

I just got in a fight (okay, heated discussion . . . okay, not even really a discussion) with my favorite professor this semester. Not just this semester I guess, but someone I hold in high regard, someone that has opened new opportunity and knowledge to me and someone who has shaped what my future plans are (at least what my future plans are presently =).
I was in Environmental Justice and my professor, Boris Ricks, was discussing planners' responsibilities in making ethical decisions in regards to the siting of waste disposal plants and other environmental hazards. Which I was totally in line with until he then proceeded to say that we had to be aware that planners and developers are the same in the fact that all they saw was '$' (he drew it on the board). Wherein I interjected, quite passionately - I might add, that planners are not developers. Then, the enviable Professor Ricks resorted to telling me that he is an expert on urban politics, is highly lauded in his research, blah bity blah blah, and that we can just agree to disagree.
I have to start this out by saying I have a grossly out of whack distaste and mistrust of real estate developers. I've never walked away from meeting one, or reading about one or hearing one speak and thought, 'wow - they're really out to do something for the community.' Some of them do really great, cool, wonderful things for the community - but it's just a side effect of their project, or a reflection of its profitability.
I got interested in planning because it blended many of my passions together . . . design, math, community, people, sustainability, and politics. The product of a planners project is a city block, a living community, a neighborhood improvement district, a park, a mixed use development, a thriving downtown. That's what they do - they create it, they make it feasible, they model it, they measure it, they map it.
The product of a developers project is a pro forma, a successful tax credit application, agreeable debt service coverage, positive cash flow. That's what they do - they envision it, they schmooze the banks, they create the spreadsheets, they screw the neighbors, and they HIRE it out.
It's the difference between Raymond Braswell and Kevin Klinkenberg, the difference between profitability and responsibility, the difference between redevelopment and renewal, the difference between condominiums and affordable housing, the difference between community and company; hard to separate fully, but there are choices and outcomes and purpose that act as hard distinctions between the two. Neither one better than the other - but definitely different.
Or maybe I'm just green and naively optimistic that you can put doing good over doing well - and still come out on top.

Time for a pick up line . . .

2007-09-19T15:36:00.000-07:00

Wow, is that shirt new? It's very becoming on you.

But if I were on you, I'd be coming, too.

(Just sayin . . . )

Greg Beck 1958-2007

2007-09-18T12:46:00.000-07:00

Greg Beck was mean, drunk, horny and hilarious. His funeral - held at the Baptist Church where his mother belongs - didn't play down his vices and couldn't diminish his ability to bring the people of his life together to share one last toast to this great man. It was an honest and touching ceremony - short to Baptist standards, if I say so myself - full of laughter, loss and realization.
The red dresses were out in full force . . . and the ladies looked hot!! My favorite part of the whole event was little Matthew Sader calling out, 'yes, sir!' in the middle of a prayer. Jesus Camp - here he comes! =D

Last night

2007-09-18T06:37:00.000-07:00

I got to see Elle for the first time in 4 days yesterday so the last thing I wanted to do was leave her at home with a sitter last night while I went to Greg Beck's visitation. But I didn't want to miss it, either - even though my red dress I was planning on wearing was in my bag that still hadn't made it from Orlando. So I decided to take Elle with me. She had to go to her first wake sometime . . . and it was easier to talk about death when it was someone that she didn't know. She told me that people didn't really die in this place - it's only on movies (probably something her dad told her when he was watching 300 with her the other night - good one, daddy'o). Needless to say that conversation took a little while . . . she's decided that when she dies she doesn't want to go in the ground under dirt but that she wants to stay 'regular' - even if it means she'll get stinky. She said we can put her in the blue room (you know you are a little paint-happy when your kid identifies rooms in your house by the color on the walls) and read her a book every night. But we got dressed and started our journey . . .

. . . never got there. I followed my googled directions, I asked the 'metro patrol' officer in the entrance of the cemetery, I called the phone number of the place, I drove between the 4600 and 5100 block of Truman like 10 times with Elle in the back seat trying to count all the dead people in the graveyard. I'm really not blind. I'm really not dumb. But it was already 8 by that time and I just wanted to get out of my car. So we headed over to Harry's Country Club in the River Market to see if anyone was over there.

After convincing Elle that we could go to Waldo Pizza some other night, I finally got her to get out of the car. . . but then she gets out and sees the AMC building downtown and decides that she wants to see a movie instead (I have a really bossy kid). But I'm the boss - so we went inside. she was very excited to see the bar . . . she loves sitting on high stools, so she was failed again when I told her we were going outside. Ooooh, but they have a jukebox like Waldo Pizza - she wants to go to Waldo Pizza again.

I go outside and see some red dresses so know I have found the bloggers . . . saw Spyder and XO and MToast and Janet and FileGirl and Dan. Sat next to Dan and Elle was being shy at first . . . but then he offered her french fries. Nothing like some fried, salty veggies to bring my kid out of her shell. She wouldn't stop after that. I have never seen her so animated in front of a group of strangers. Maybe it was the atmosphere ('and if she loves a bar - she loves a bar like her mama') - or maybe it was the Sprite after 8pm - or maybe it was just the people. I think I'll have her start a blog now . . .

Anyway, it was good to see everyone there last night. I didn't know Greg anymore than I know XO or MToast or Spyder . . . but just sitting there on a night that we all said goodbye to someone that was present in our lives - made me realize how connected this little world is. I open my world to anyone that reads this blog and I thank each and every one of you for doing the same. Its very spandex-like . . . as our circles get bigger - it just works harder to keep us together.

After we paid and walked out - Elle still convinced we were on our way to Waldo Pizza - she asked me which one of those people was the dead one. I giggled inside and almost told her that he wasn't there. . . but then realized that he was.

Rest in Peace, Big Guy - give 'em hell.

I'm baaaack!!

2007-09-17T12:47:00.000-07:00

Been super busy the last couple weeks, but just got back from Florida so I'm ready to get back to work on, you know - my LSATs which are next weekend!!!! GAH! Not ready . . . not ready . . .

Super fun stuff though, this weekend . . . met Mia Michaels - she signed my dance shoes! She's freakin amazing. I'm like a total dork and in love with her. Took a class with her and my body still hurts today (stretching afterwards is always good - note to self) - but not only is she incredibly amazing as a choreographer, but it's just always so inspiring to hear people who absolutely love their life and are breathing their passions through other people. And she made my body move in ways it never has before and made me love being a dancer even more because of the power I hold to express myself through that medium. Love it!!! I will scan in my signed picture of her when, you know - I learn how to do that. So, next year around this time - be looking for it. =D

I also saw a bunch of my friends from South Florida, and it made me realize how much I miss the close friendships I've always been used to. I live so far away from so many people that I love. I used to have such a hard time with goodbyes when I was younger - and taught myself how to cope by just realizing how much people affect me and change me as a person for knowing them 2 hours or 2 decades. It made me less sad to see people go, but I don't find those connections so much anymore. Is life really too busy to have what I see as the most important thing in it? It's too bad if so, because I'm too far away to really hang on the the ones I have established in the past. I just miss my friends and my family, I think. Very emo today - not a good day to say goodbye to a friend I never got to know. Oh well.

My Soundtrack

2007-09-06T22:34:00.000-07:00

Okay - so I've been sick and not blogging and don't want to blog about my sickness, but I finally checked my myspace today and did a fun little bulletin and thought I would be lazy and just post it here as well. And don't make fun of my music selections . . . or I'll hurt you.

So, here's how it works:
1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc)
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every question, type the song that's playing
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button
6. Don't lie and try to pretend your cool...!

Opening credits:
Fuck Me Pumps - Amy Winehouse

Waking up:
Freak on a Leash - Richard Cheese

First day of school:
Make a Memory - Bon Jovi

Falling in love:
C.R.U.S.H. - Ciara

First Song:
The Roots (Interlude) - Jill Scott

Fight Song:
Get Loose - T.I.

Breaking Up:
Rehab Remix - Amy Winehouse and Jay Z

Prom:
Hallelujah - Leonard Cohen

Life:
Love Song - The Cure

Mental Breakdown:
Body Language - Queen

Driving:
I'm Good (Honey Soundtrack) - Blaque

Flashback:
Close My Eyes Forever - Lita Ford and Ozzy Osbourne

Getting back together:
All I Wanna Do is Have Some Fun - Sheryl Crowe

Wedding:
Go - Common

Birth of child:
Jeremy - Pearl Jam

Death Scene:
Muevete Pa Ca - Zumba CD

Funeral Song:
Abraham, Martin, and John - Jerry Vale

End Credits:
Here Comes the Sun (Live in New York) - Jewel and Rob Thomas

Oh, bama!

2007-08-27T20:56:00.000-07:00

Okay - so I admit, I get really excited about people running for office - especially when they are saying the things that I feel in my heart, seem to be honest and trust-worthy, refuse to run campaigns because 'it's the way you have to do it to win', and when I get goose-bumps listening to them speak (because they know how to form a complete sentence). This will be my fourth presidential election that I have been allowed to participate in - and the first one where one of these candidates are at least on the primary ballot. I have been enthralled by Obama since his key-note speach at the Democratic national Convention almost 4 years ago. He came when I really needed him. I believe so strongly in America - the America founded on equal rights, the American founded as an escape from religious persecution, the America that has flourished because of it's welcomed diversity. I learned about this place all through my early education and books and songs and poetry and stories and fell in love . . . have not really lived there yet. Barack Obama was saying that he would bring that back. That equality was his mission, that love was his navigator. I jumped on that bandwagon. I registered for all the groups - I participated in discussion boards - I didn't miss a stump speech - I gave money and asked my friends to do the same - I joined the campaign. I learned as much as I could about this man, with each peice of information, every audio clip, the articles, the interviews . . . with each one, I was more enthralled. And then I heard his stance on gay marriage. And his argument for equality was broken over my head and shattered into peices. He believes in full civil unions - in giving same-sex couples all the rights that are denied to them today by the federal government (all 111 of them) - he believes that we should treat all citizens equally . . . but that we should let churches decide if they should call it a marriage or not. It's still a civil union - unless recognized as a 'marriage' by the church, but it would be recognized as such only by that church - not the federal government - and the heterosexual couples still get to be 'married' no matter if they are married in a United Church of Christ or in a renovated Taco Bell by an Elvis impersonator with a 10-day temporary license. I'm sorry - doesn't seem so equal to me.
I received a bulk email through one of my list serves from the campaign asking me to celebrate equality with Michelle, Barack's wife, as she did something or other for women's rights. I wrote back and let him know that I can't celebrate equality with a man who only celebrates it for some . . . the campaign team sent me this back:

Dear Friend,

Thank you for contacting Senator Barack Obama and Obama for America with your
thoughts on LGBT rights. We appreciate hearing from you.

Senator Obama supports economic, social, and legal rights for gays and lesbians.
He supports full civil unions, expanding hate crimes statutes, fighting
discrimination at work and in housing and other places of public accommodation,
and wants to increase adoption rights. He opposes any Constitutional ban on gay
marriage, opposes the Defense of Marriage Act, and opposes the current “Don’t
ask, don’t tell” policy on gays in the military, which weakens us in a time of
global challenges.

Barack is a global leader in the fight against AIDS. He traveled to Kenya and
took a public HIV test to encourage testing and reduce the stigma of the
disease. In late 2006, Barack Obama worked to reauthorize the Ryan White CARE
Act, one of the largest sources of federal funds for primary health care and
support services for patients with HIV/AIDS.

Senator Obama has consistently supported LGBT rights, and will continue to work
for an open, tolerant society where people of all sexual orientations are
protected and their contributions are valued. Thank you again for writing.

Sincerely,

Obama for America

I'm just glad Kucinich is still in the race . . . I will have someone to vote for that sees equality as a foundational principle - not just for his campaign - but for his life and his persuit of a better America and a better world.

Urban Art

2007-08-26T22:26:00.000-07:00

Okay - so for one of my classes we had to say what urban meant to us by telling a movie, tv show, book or song that described how we felt about 'urban.' (That was a really bad sentence, but I'm tired and don't feel like fixing it.) My answers were "You Suck: A Love Story" by Christopher Moore - because when you've been turned into a vampire and you're trying to go unnoticed while searching out a cure in the city, you realize how many people abound and how involved in other peoples' lives you really are. My second choice was "Honey" with Jessica Alba - a dance teacher at an inner city community center making it big and bringing it back to her peeps - Urban Extreme!! My final choice was "Tom's Diner" by Suzanne Vega - it always made me think of the big city when I would hear it growing up . . . you couldn't really observe things happening outside a diner in suburbia - it would just be a lot of people walking in from the parking lot.

So yeah, what movie, book, television show or song defines your outlook of the urban?

Lazy blogging?

2007-08-23T17:48:00.000-07:00

This semester sucks. Won't have too much time to blog (I know, I know - what will the three of you do?) - maybe I'll just post all the f-ing papers I have to write over the course of 16 weeks. My classes are all very interesting - Environmental Justice, The Economics of Race, Class and Gender, Urban Environmental Policy and Urban Redevelopment. You think they'd notice if I just did the same papers and projects for all the classes? =) I'm getting a new camera which will be much easier to load pictures onto my lap top - so maybe I'll just keep putting up pictures of my kid - will that keep you around? And I promise at least one pick up line a week. So don't leave me, okay? This isn't a break UP - just a break. And after the LSAT, we will have much to discuss. Like my perfect score. And my vivid imagination. K . . . gotta go.

Why, oh why?

2007-08-22T11:34:00.000-07:00

So yeah - had a great time at my second blogger meetup . . . even though I missed Happy Hour!! I mean, not that that stopped me from drinking too much beer, but still . . . could have saved more money for pork sandwiches. I realized that not only am I loud and annoying when I drink - I'm mean, too. Not really, but beer brings out my inner bully. It's kind of liberating . . . and kind of Mel Gibson-y as well. But had a blast - and even though XO didn't save me any booty, I did filch some good items from other bloggers who were drunk enough to either forget their items, bequest them upon me freely, or naively believe I would wear a NASA get up to the next meet up! AS IF!! (Just joking, emaw, it will be fabulous!)

But what sucks is that I didn't meet a lot of the people that were there - as soon as I walked in, I found beer and parked my ass. I'm not a good mingler . . . always feel like I'm interrupting or eavesdropping or something. And I feel bad because I dont know a lot of these peoples' blogs - not because they dont rock, but because I spend too much time stalking the few I like and don't need more obsessions, really - and hate the awkward, "oh, yeah, nice to meet you . . . " I'm really socially inept. But I really enjoyed meeting janet and File Girl and Erin - especially Erin, the hottest pickle in KC - and hanging with old friends The D, emaw, Spyder and Dan. I felt like a porn star last night with eveyone eyeing my boobs (well, boob) and commenting on the size of my tongue. Objectified Blogger, party of one.

Then, after all you lame-o's left - see, mean (and I'm not even drunk!) - I went down to Sharp's and had a fine conversation with a wasted mortgage banker and decided I wasn't ready for the night to end! Went and sang some classic karaoke at Missie B's. All in all, a good night. However, NOT a good night's rest. I'm going to nap. . .

Knock Knock . . . Who's there? . . . Elle . . . Elle who? . . . Elementary School.

2007-08-20T17:54:00.000-07:00

Elle turned 5 today . . . I still can't believe it. She starts kindergarten on Thursday. 5 years ago today - actually right now - I got my epidural and I told the anesthesiologist that 'this is the beginning of the end' as he stuck a huge needle that only belongs in nightmares and movies about nightmares in my lower back - and I thanked him!! I meant the whole labor thing, but in truth it was the beginning of the end of my life as I knew it. I have spent my life doing whatever pleases me and whatever I want to do, but now I make decisions with someone else at the helm of my ship. And boy, has it been a lovely ride. I absolutely love kids and they crack me up and amaze me every day - but every morning I wake up and look at my little girl and think, "wow, I created that." She gets so annoyed with me because I laugh at every single thing she does and repeat every single thing she says. I have already cried like 15 times today and she keeps telling me to stop staring at her, but I really can't help it. I love her more than I ever thought possible and she gives me new reasons every day. It has been a great year and I totally look forward to seeing what crazy things she comes up with for this upcoming one . . . I can't wait to meet her friends and watch her interests grow and see all the wonderful things she will learn and I will absolutely miss knowing what she is doing every second of every day and being the coolest person she knows.

Courtesy of Emaw . . .

2007-08-20T08:20:00.000-07:00

So, you wanna go to the library and go over these briefs . . . then we'll go back to my place and you can go under mine.

Law School Pick Up Line

2007-08-15T08:49:00.000-07:00

Checked my statcounter this morning - haven't really done that since I set it up frankly because I dont understand it and it's a lot of numbers that don't make sense to me, but I had so much fun . . . I have so many hits from people that google stupid shit like . . . how to pick up law school chicks, law school high five, pick up lines for lawyers . . . none of these dumbasses make it past my incredibly-thought-invoking banter to comment or even come back, really, but I'm on the first page for all these searches. So for all you freaks out there who find my page because you want to bang a lawyer - I am here to help you out! "Thanks, Sponge." "That was great, Sponge." "You're the best, Sponge." "My love for you is like diarhhea, Sponge . . . I can't hold it in."

Here goes:

"So, you must have learned a lot in law school - because I got off just by looking at you."

(I'll have to turn all my pickup lines into lawyerly ones so that I keep getting these hits.)