Drop me in the middle so I can make a ripple effect

I'm feeling Randome eau de le Bec today. Wahoo for bullet points!

• I found Jack in my mailbox again today (24, Season 5, discs 4 and 5). I told him to get in the house but, since he has trouble with direct orders, he is hiding in the shed behind the garage staking out my neighbors again. He should check out one of them in the summer. Anyone mowing her lawn every other day is up to no good.
• I got the mandatory blizzard groceries yesterday, though I forgot the choc-chips for that random need to bake that occurs when one is trapped. While I was in line, a young man got behind me with two frozen pizzas. I guess we all prepare in different ways.
• I had an "a-ha" moment last week where I realized that I was approaching things with the wrong attitude from the wrong angle. I'm back to my "There's a smarter way to do/look at this" approach. It's refreshing, like a new hair color.
• I have, however, been arguing a lot with bl0ckbu$ter employees who have this great new, but very flawed, online system and no one in the store is willing to see the flaws. Punky says I gotta let it go...
• I've been thinking about the word "attach" a lot lately. I guess I don't get very attached to people. Well, except Punky, who knew from day 1 how to fit in my world. Interesting...

Have a lovely, shovel-free day!

Song: I think I have used this before, but I like it. Natasha Bedingfield.

One of these things first

It's very quiet outside, that snowy stillness. I envy Nuschler's ability to walk outside with his fur coat and take it all in. He's quite majestic, surveying his kingdom, perfectly warm.

It's days like this that I feel we are all going quietly insane. You do the shoveling, the plowing, the reversing and driving it takes to get where you need to go and today, when the snow is so insurmountable, it feels like enough. I made it here, don't ask for anything else of me.

And, once you have it all clear, the weather laughs at you and dumps some more.

I suspect that my arms are going to sneak off in the middle of the night to avoid any use tomorrow. A preemptive strike. No more moving snow with that wonky shovel. Go out and find the one store that still has shovels. We'll come back when you have the proper snow removal tools.

But it's not enough to just shovel. You also need to socialize, work, push that GNP forward. And maybe, just for a second, enjoy the stillness before you have to shovel again.

And by "again", I mean Thursday.

(le Bec would like you to pray for a snow day, please)

Song: From Nick Drake. Great, melancholy stuff.

Walk this way

Nuschler was giving me the death stare this morning.

He only wants four things in this world: Food, going outside, pets and walks. In my mind, this adds up to a total of four brain cells. No one meets Nusch and then says "He's a real smart dog." Nope, he's cute, huge, sweet, but not applying for any scholarships.

That one brain cell focused on getting a walk is a vicious, judgemental speck. He stares at me through his eye brows like a petulant five-year-old. He sighs with high drama. And whenever I change my clothes, he comes to watch and see if I am putting on the layers required of a walk in this weather. Kinda pervy actually.

So today we went. After one block of trudging, I thought I was going to keel over from exhaustion. I normally walk around the rink while he fetches things, but just threw the frisbee today. After a few throws/retrievals, Nuschler looked at me as if to say "I'm tired. You go get it."

On days like this I wonder if it is worth it. Having a happy, pooped out puppy, however, is priceless.

(Song from Aerosmith and Run DMC. I used to feel bad about liking this song. It's that skeezy lead singer that scares me most.)

Stuck in the middle with you

Okay, the blizzard is here for real and we are stuck. There's no need to climb out a window just yet, but also no driving around unless totally necessary. Being stuck in the house on a lazy Sunday morning is luxurious.

I get really cagey being stuck. I used to have vivid dreams about being chased and not being able to run. My legs would not move. I vaguely remember this meaning that I was feeling emotionally stuck or indecisive.

These dreams stopped when I bought my first car. The ability to pack and run continues to calm my nerves, even though I wouldn't do it at the point. Nuschler would demand to come with me and Punky would expect me back soon to empty the dishwasher and find his wallet/keys/various info cards.

I love the saying "You don't have to change everything to change everything". I've been banging on the drum of change for a while now (I think I knew somehow what was coming) and I think it has to do with not feeling stuck. The silver lining about losing someone is the change that precipitates from it. After an appropriate amount of mourning and celebration, we can take ownership of the amazing things we have accomplished and look forward to amazing things we are gonna do next.

Have faith, it will be spectacular!

The rhythm is gonna get you

I know it's Friday. Well, really it's almost Saturday. This week has flown by and my brain is trying to catch up.

There's a "blizzard" going on outside. The snow is swirling around the ground, creating an other-worldly effect. But the accumulation is not impressive. When I was a kid we would have blizzards that would lock you in your house for days until someone crawled out a window and shoveled to the door.

I like piles of snow. Last winter I could hop over the fence up at the field where Nusch and I walk and then he would run around it to catch me. Sure, I could try to hop the fence now, without the help of snow drifts, but I would need medical attention after.

But, it's been a crazy week and I can't even explain why. Lots of things came to a head, found a conclusion, met an endpoint. My friend thinks that we are experiencing a global hormone surge. This would explain the madness going on as well as my uncontrollable need to cry and eat ice cream.

le Bec returns tomorrow. Phew.

Song: This Gloria Estevan classic is from the tape that was stolen from my parent's vehicle in DC while we were on a family trip. The tape was actually in Bec's pack, but belonged to me. It was a tragic day...

Movin' to the country, gonna eat a lot of peaches

I am missing le Bec something fierce at the moment. I need an hour on the phone with her to talk, laugh and groan. It's been a day.

Before she went off to her adventures, I borrowed some books and movies from le Bec. One book is "yeah, i said it" by Wanda Sykes. I don't know if you remember this woman, but she is dead funny. She is going off on all subjects from current affairs to politics. I'm laughing out loud a lot, but also agreeing with her opinions on the craziness.

She doesn't like the president, thinks he's rather dumb. I think we should vote for Wanda for president. A strong black woman in the office is just what this country needs. She seems to be smart enough to know when she is not smart enough and find people to advise her smartly on the areas she's not smart enough in.

And, really, we have set the bar of expectation so low that, even if she does a poor job, she would at least be entertaining about it. Even I would watch the state of the union address if there was comedy mixed in with the tragedy.

(Song: I can't remember if I have used this one before. It's from The Presidents of the United States. )

If God would send His Angels...

I just finished reading this article about the rise in middle-class teens beating up and sometimes killing homeless people for fun. I warn you that this article is graphic and disturbing. I did my best to read fast so that I wouldn't throw up, but I couldn't prevent the crying.

Where does this start? Parents who don't teach their kids about compassion or that drug and alcohol use leads to poor decisions and inconceivable consequences? Schools that aren't given enough money for programs that keep kids involved in activities? A government whose "do it for yourself" policies are leaving the fringe population vulnerable? Too much exposure to fictitious violence or media violence that is too detached from the reality of violence?

This makes me sad and very, very angry.

On the flip side, last night Craig Ferguson of the Late, Late Show decided not to make fun of Britney for shaving her head (for myself, I have been saying that I hope her family is working to help her). He says that comedy should be poking fun at the rich and powerful, not the vulnerable. Craig, applause for you and thanks!

Waiting on the world to change

Jack Bauer has finally let me go. For now.

Season 5 is also on DVD (Fox does well with getting the dvd of the previous season out in time to catch up with the next season. Normally, the seasons do not have a big arc in between, but this one had an interesting thread.

Towards the end of this season (which I will be vague about in case you plan on giving that much time to dvd), I was getting tired of the faux president. It reminded me that there is a night and day difference between being cocky and being confident. We are so used to seeing the former that we don't recognize the latter.

In the idealist world located only in my mind, so much of the violence happening in the world could be prevented by good foreign policy. But people will never stop wanting power, money and the freedom to be good or evil, so danger will continue to exist.

And I suppose for my tiny part, all I can do is be more intentional.

Granted, it is just a tv show.

(Song: John Mayer. I do love this song. I just wonder how someone who can think this deeply can also date someone so seemingly dumb. Irony is alive and well...)

One blaze of glory

I'm going to keep talking about change until people in general start to believe that I mean it.

Let's take "Change is scary", stuff it in a box and throw it in the corner of your storage closet. It is as useful there as anywhere else.

The debate in my head is between wanting change but not liking the backlash from those who don't want it and not changing just to keep everyone happy. And, I gotta tell you, I'm starting to not care about the toes I'm gonna step on.

Are you uncomfortable, but okay with that?

(Song lyric: From Rent, which I discovered in movie form last year. Le bec saw it with the rents (hehehe) and was luke warm about it. I watched in alone and was singing in non-stop instantly. Punky does a riotous rendition of Seasons of Love. He has an inner lounge singer.)

Welcome to the jungle

I'm an orphan. Well, a married, puppy-owning orphan. The rents have gone to go-Far to visit nu-Ma, the wee-bro and le Bec is loving Paris, which leaves me here in a no-phone-call state of Zen.

Complain I do not. Glee feel I not. Statement simply I make.

(Yeah, I'm feeling good tonight and will dispense with normal sentence structure. Yoda I will speak.)

If Britney can't keep it together, how can the rest of us? (Before you comment galore, I'm JUST KIDDING.) I threaten to shave my head, but it has become tolerable since growing past the mullet stage.

Punky watched a ton of 24 today, so I should go and catch up. Oy with the terrorism...

(Song lyric: Gun's N Roses. I could tell you that I'm not a fan, but that would only be part of the truth. I love the guitar player, Slash. Under his rock fro is a totally normal, non-druggie guy who holds up his end of the conversation. Fantastic. Also, during an endless stretch of WI in a car, Punky and I made up a WI tourist song to the tune of Jungle. "Welcome to Wisconsin, we've got lots of cheese...)

Lancelot Link: Secret Chimp

Jack Bauer was in my mailbox again yesterday and today (24, Season 4, Discs 3 and 4). He must be staking out my neighbors.

The problem with a show that is set over consecutive 24 hours is that, eventually, they are going to have to go beyond the confines of logic.

Each episode starts with a seven minute recap of the continuing storylines (which kinda gives away what to expect as some of the recaps are very old). We can only assume that during these seven minutes, Jack hits the restroom, grabs a light snack, takes a power nap, downs a caffeinated beverage and calls his mother. Especially since he does none of these things the rest of the time.

Sure, one could argue that this man is trained to go, go, go. He can run on a tablespoon of water and a protein bar for three days with no sleep. Punky paused the dvd at a point where Jack had his eyes closed. We felt bad about waking him up after that. Could have been his only sleep until the end of the last disc.

Still, this show is fascinating and compelling stuff. And it lends a bit of hope to those who think we are at the mercy of terrorists, especially if there are super-agents out there who will not rest, eat, or call their moms until you are safe.

(Yes, that is not only a song lyric, but a tv show I loved back in middle school. What can I say, I like spy shows.)

I am not an angry girl, but it seems like I've got everyone fooled

I'm not going to call this the most romantic day of the year. Punky likes to rebel against fabricated romance by being annoyed the whole day (and playing two boot hockey games this evening).

Bec is off to France today. I now have ten days without phone calls to/from her or any of her plans that include me, which means I should get a lot done and will miss her something crazy in about nine days.

In the meantime, I have cleaning to do. They came and fixed my phone line, replacing the 1950's original line. I did have a lovely conversation with a woman after we both tried to make a call, not to each other. I also had fun testing the new line by wandering around the house, which made Nuschler turn in quick circles all excited.

Recently I talked about making new friends. I like a range of friends of all ages who offer up wisdom, energy and resources. The hard part is that there are friends I have to let go of (if you are reading this, it's probably not you). Heart-breaking, but necessary.

[insert sad rendition of "circle of life"]

(Song lyric from "Not a Pretty Girl" by Ani DeFranco, who cheers me up when I'm sad, calms me down when I am mad and reminds me to fight the good fight.)

Sisters and Brothers, Brothers and Sisters, Each and Everyone!

As Bec said, it is our "little" brother's birthday today. She may have fond memories of the day. For me, it was a tough time.

I had been lobbying hard for a puppy. Please, please, please. Instead, I was told, I was going to get a sibling to play with, which is okay, but not a puppy. I only vividly remember two events of this time. The first was being given a gift for the baby by someone at church, who dumped coffee on me in the process. Oh the misery. (And yes, Sally, I have forgiven you. It is, however, too funny to forget!)

The second memory is looking into the baby's crib the first day they came home. I was standing in the room that used to be mine, surrounded by new toys and fresh baby smells, looking through the bars of the crib thinking "This is it?". I had no use for this newborn; He was dull and demanding, more interested in eating/sleeping/pooping than playing with his new toys. I was five and I didn't understand the hype.

With time he got more interesting. He holds his end of the conversation quite well these days and we have a killer Sven and Ole routine. And while there is part of me that has trouble letting him be a grown-up after so many years of taking care of him and protecting him, it's equally cool to think that I had some hand in making him the good man he has turned out to be.

So Happy Birthday, Matt!

With lots of love (and a couple tears),
Sara

[The song lyric is from Free to Be, You and Me]

Can't bring myself to do what it is you think I should

I'm going to work towards talking about my song lyric titles a bit more. This one is from the Dixie Chicks, whom I talked about a while ago. Their backlash anthem was on the top of the charts for a long time this summer, much to my delight. Now that they swept the Grammy's they were nominated for, I'm excited. I don't feel like I have to worry so much about my freedom to not agree with the government.

Something odd is happening in my house. For the second day in a row, I woke up to no water. I know, I know. Winter. Still makes me think of the simple things I take for granted.

My phone is acting up. It clicks, echoes and sounds like someone is listening. I do a lot of business on the phone, so this is particularly annoying. If I am talking to my mom or Bec, one of us says "That Bush is so great" or something to that effect. I'm waiting for the GOP to call for a donation.

My internet connection is also quirky lately. I asked Punky if someone could hack our firewall. Nope. Granted, I believe a really motivated person can do anything. Especially if I am on a watch list.

(p.s. Why does the blog speckcheck not recognize the word "internet"?)

Love will open every door

I need to sit down the write out the things in my head and create some sort of organization before it all gets fuzzy.

I was at a training at church today and it went by way too fast. I wanted to know a lot more. The trainer started by saying, "Boomers changed the world and now we don't know what to do with it." I burst out with applause. I also found out that my dislike of "contemporary" services is a generational thing. In some, small ways, I'm actually normal. Who knew?

Unless I am on a sleep-deprived craze, I don't think I've been this excited about my place in the church in years. And, as I suspected it would, all of it translates to more than the one hour service Sunday morning.

If you're interested, check out www.IgnitingMinistry.org It's worth your while.

Where does the good go?

I spent a bit of time driving around in my car yesterday, running errands etc, thinking about all this generational stuff that is bending me and others out of shape. The hardest bit is convincing people who have known me since I was three to see me as a capable adult. But there's more to it.

I remember a conversation I had with an ex-boyfriend shortly after Punky and I got married. Neither of us called. He just happens to be my dear friend's brother and a premonition about these exact situations is the reason I almost stood him up almost ten years ago. Anyway, it was a strange conversation and, for reasons I couldn't explain at the time, I felt compelled to justify why I had gotten married.

I felt, and still feel, that me and my peers had to redefine marriage. Not the boundaries, but the daily bits. Communicate, have fun, push each other to grow. My generation also became the people who got married for the sake of the party, so we're not perfect.

So my thought in the car was this: Why did we stop redefining things at marriage? Why not redefine what it means to be an adult? To be responsible? To be a good citizen? To be a good parent? Why does being concerned with the world, with politics, the environment, children, all of it, have to result in being serious and depressed? Does not being serious and depressed all the time mean I'm an incapable airhead? Is serious and depressed the only way to change the world?

I really hope not. Because I plan to change the world being the silly, goofy, joking, but strong, smart, concerned person I am.

I keep you my dirty little secret

I found Jack Bauer in my mailbox today, restlessly waiting between the magazines and the bills.

His mission for me is simple: Watch an insane amount of television to plow through the fourth season of his hit show to keep up with Punky. Punky has the intestinal fortitude to watch eight episodes straight while I start gnawing on the furniture from nervous tension around my fourth episode.

I started a scarf for Bec after the second episode of the evening with 20 stitches. By the end of the third ep, I was down to 16 stitches. It is rare for me to drop a stitch, much less 4.

But, it's addictive, smart television that assumes its viewers are intelligent.

So, bring it on!

(Side Note: The picture is toys from 24 Season 1, which is hilarious. Jack Bauer is in the middle, looking unkempt, tired and slightly derailed as usual. If I owned these dolls, I would have the most fun with his daughter, the blond female of questionable fashion taste, having her be kidnapped, kidnapped, and kidnapped. That girl needs every tracking device possible implanted pronto!)

Cosy in the rocket and I need to go, to go, go, go

There's a stack of motivational books in my house waiting for me to get past chapter three. I'm not motivated to move forward in any of them. Ironic, huh.

Last week I actually finished one. The first nine chapters were fantastic, all about decisions a person must make to be a good leader. There was plenty of preach in it, which grated a little, but mostly it made great points through an interesting story.

Then came chapter ten, when the author decided to make his pro-Iraq plea that a good leader goes to war, charges against the foe. Being raised on literature, I can't just rip these pages out, do my own edit. So I put a note at the beginning of the chapter. I believe a good leader avoids war until all peaceful routes have been exhausted. Now I feel okay passing it on.

Side note: I've talked with quite a few cool people today and I get the feeling that we all don't know what to worry about first and most: Global warming, nuclear war, our children, our time, our commitments. It's soon gonna be one big party in a padded room.

Parents just don't understand

Wow, my last post lit quite a little fire.

First, let me explain that not all the people I was with are vain crazies. Just a few. There were other people there as visibly disgusted as I was. I would say the age range was mostly gen x with older boomer parents.

Second, and I hate to break this to you, but materialism started with boomers. In 1987, the movie Wall Street said "Greed is Good" and, I believe, coined the phrase "Yuppie Greed". I didn't get to see this movie because I was only 11 at the time, but I believe that the 80's were all about the boomers being proud that they were able to not only provide for their families (which their parents struggled to do), but give them a little more, a nicer car, a better vacation. Right now, most of marketing is for the boomers, who have most of the money power in this country.

The "more" that people provide for their families has grown in definition through the generations. Being able to provide your teenager with insane things is now the height of success. But how will your teenager ever grow up?

We watched this great movie called The Last Kiss this evening. It's about a group of twenty-nine-year-old friends going through early mid-life crisis. This raw, emotional movie was so dead-on that it was hard to watch. These guys are not materialistic, but very afraid of the future, of making mistakes, of making decisions, of screwing things up.

I can't really explain generation y to you, as I am not one and equally do not understand them yet. But I can tell you about generation x. We are not selfish, materialistic or ignorant to the ways of the world. We were supposed to have easy lives because so much was given to us, but life will be difficult regardless of what you start out with.

We are doing the best we can.

Just can't get enough

Punky and I got to tour one of the new condos downtown. These condos have a spectacular view of the harbor and nice amenities, but they are small! Punky and I would be tripping over each other. We have separate living rooms on different floors of our house and it is what makes our marriage work. If we had separate bathrooms, life would be perfect.

We were with a group of young professionals, people who read motivational books and talk about fancy cars. People who like interesting, over-priced real estate. I got into a debate with two over image. They were suggesting that you must look successful in order to become successful, especially with the car you drive. And you can't say or do anything really cruel because it will hurt your image.

I tried to argue that I would rather drive a modest car and give to charity and I would refrain from being really cruel because I'm a decent human. (I am mildly cruel cuz I have a big mouth and enjoy irony).

Is the vanity of success ever going to not bother me?