The king must die

Sadaam Hussein was put to death today.

I wouldn't have given it much thought, but my wife has been a little obsessed about it- checking the news to see when and if it has happened. I've mentioned some of my personal death penalty positions before, but where Sadaam was concerned, I am totally ambivalent. It doesn't matter to me that he was probably clinically insane. He killed a lot of people- and the family's of those victims are calling for blood... I'm self-entitled and arrogant enough that this simply doesn't matter to me or affect me enough for me to even form a strong opinion.

Then there's my wife... my peace-loving, fair-minded wife. I love katy for so many reasons, and this is a perfect example. She is completely unsettled about this execution. This murdering secularist who lived in palaces, but tortured and killed in the name of the Koran. With all the evil and sadness and war in the news today, she is disarmed that an execution is seen as a positive. This man affects her because he is human.

I am ambivalent and sometimes callus and too often feel comfortable falling on the side of the majority. I love that my "other half" is so grounded in non-violence that in my house there will never be a rejoicing in execution. She reminds me to form an opinion. Let not laziness and apathy prevent philosophical debate... consider current events independent of a mob's mentality... Perhaps a "call for blood" does not really belong in the same story as "justice". Perhaps we should not kill people to teach them that killing people is wrong.

Can you see why I can't imagine raising children without this woman?

Good luck and such

My mom and I fairly superstitious. We don't put shoes on tables (in fact it makes me cringe when Tracy does it, to the point where I think she actually thinks twice before doing it now), we harbor a cautious belief that the stars are running our lives (or at least influencing them), and we find meaning in many things are probably totally unrelated. If nothing else, it makes life more interesting.

During a conversation with my mom recently I mentioned that I love the sound of geese flying over our house because it reminds me of when I was a kid and the geese would fly low enough to hear the air moving around their wings. She responded that it was good luck. So I went looking for proof (being a fan of science) (and being convinced that it might be Google and not the stars actually running our lives). I could find nothing that suggested that geese flying over your house was good luck, but I did find that finding a goose feather was good luck (and how do you get geese feathers without them flying overhead?).

All of this reminded me of two other sayings that generally make me chuckle:

1. "It's good luck when it rains on your wedding day." I firmly believe this is merely a consolation for those who have rain on their wedding day (we had rain on our wedding day).

2. "Cold hands warm heart." If this is true then perhaps my heart is singularly responsible for global warming. Sorry everyone!

Hitting the Holiday wall

It has been an amazing couple of weeks.

I've never had the experience of feeling so taken care of (by life and by my family/peeps) and feeling so simultaneously out of control. The month of December has been completely overbooked and I've been jumpy like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. So much to do- decorating, cooking, buying, wrapping, sending, carding, gifting... All of the stress- imagined and real- designed and costumed in my own privately haunted mind. By that I mean, No one that knows and/or loves me has required anything of me, and yet I've felt insecure about my merry-making abilities and have spent way (way, way) too much time WORRIED. Worried about nameless things and expectations that don't exist.

I've felt this anxiety pile up (inside my gut). First attempts at counter-acting the stress meant spending chunks of the last 26 days creating- and when possible, completing holiday check lists. We inscribed the cards and did a lot of wrapping early. Despite my attempts at organization, I needed to start taking tums around the 4th of the month, so in addition to list-creation, I focused energy on mindfulness and staying "present" and allowed myself to turn in hours before the electronically timed Holiday Lights and tree decorations clicked themselves off. We watched less TV and cuddled more and still, my tums intake only increased.

Don't get me wrong, I haven't been taking that great of care of myself. For example, I've been eating enough delicious/fattening food to actually feel my arteries harden. I've been doing my part to wear out the magnetic strip on the back our chase card. And I've had no cardiovascular activity (unless you count carrying packages and that fattening food into and our of our house.)

I've wondered how (even with an earnest desire and effort) I can't seem to make it quieter inside my head (or GI tract) at busy times? Even when I give myself permission to say "no" or to prepare frozen foods, why can't I fully appreciate the extra time I've given myself? Why do I use at least some of the time worrying about who I might be letting down? What's the deal with creatures that have "evolved" so far from the true purpose of the "fight or flight" chemical response, that running out of scotch tape mis-fires an adrenaline reaction complete with heart palpitations, sweaty foreheads, metallic-tasting saliva, and the urge to tear down a wall with one swat of your fist?

Adjusting for the fact that there was no snow, and (since we cannot be in two places at once) we were unable to celebrate life with both of our families at the same time, yesterday, was as wonderful as Christmas could be...

It was loud and crazy and over the top. But that's what happens when you get a couple dozen people together in a room with 1,000,000 consumable calories. When kt and I got home, we were nearly silent in our individual puttering. We avoided looking or thinking about our to do lists. We ignored the fact that we both had to work today. I fell asleep on the couch at 8:30pm with my boo in her suduko book at my feet. She woke me at ten and I was asleep again before my head settled completely into it's Posturepedic foam pillow. When I woke up, 9 hours later, I was actually sore from all of the sleeping. Feeling this safe, taken care of, and loved is something wild creatures never get a shot at... I wouldn't trade it for a month of tums!

Link me up!

Ok, I know I'm a total dork (I revel in my dorkdom), but here are 3 links I think you should click on.

1. (NPR story) Italy decides to fight anorexia by banning underweight models (YAY!!!).

2. (Another NPR story) This one is hilarious and fun at the same time, a review of the use of candles in operas in 17th century France. (no really, try it)

3. The ultimate christmas tale... a perennial favorite and must hear for everyone reading this blog (even if you've heard it every year since you were 10, you should hear it again).

Merry Christmas weekend!

Blog black out period

Lately, we've been spending too much time living life, and not enough time blogging... Wait a minute- hmmmm, I guess that's a very good thing.

Living in this house with kt is like a little dream, right now. Our tree is decorated. We have a "wrapping station" set up in the basement- so the Christmas clutter is fairly well contained. We are excited about the gifts we have given/ are getting ready to give to each other and our peeps. We are quite literally ONE and 1/2 gifts (quick pickups, really) away from being completely done with shopping. We are more than 50% done with wrapping. We are reminding each other to take it slow and do what we can but not stress about what is being missed. We are getting into "cooking mode." We have banned the exasperation: "I have so much to do" from our abode. We are laughing and smiling and turning into bed early. So this is Christmas for me right now, and I think i am feeling and smelling and tasting what people mean when they say, "wishing you a 'peaceful' Christmas season"... Who's luckier than me?!?

Apparently farting is popular

I thought this story was particularly hilarious given the fact that we are flying to "round on the outside high in the middle" tomorrow.

So, some lady farts on a plane. She lights a match (this technique works quite well to be sure). The plane gets grounded. The plane is screened, no "bombs" are found, and it takes off again. Eventually, everyone makes it to Dallas and all is well.

What makes this story hilarious is that 1.) She was probably the most thoughtful person on the plane and 2.) on CNN.com, you have a choice between "Top Stories" and "Most Popular". This particular item is no longer a "top story" but it is, not surprisingly, the most popular.

Oh the irony...

You know the kind of joke that happens when you live with someone for a long time? Well, in our house I frequently implore Tracy not to "wash her eyes" because she always has red eyes when she emerges from the shower and I make it seem like she scrubbed them on purpose. She almost always plays along.

Tracy gets styes frequently. And in a last ditch effort to prevent these from occuring, she now has to actually wash her eyes.

Oh the irony.

Maybe it's the show

I'm home- sickie- today... the sore throat won't go away, and the cough kept me up all night. So, this morning I moved from bed to the couch and avoided the driving/work thing altogether.

The talk shows were annoying me and i remembered that SNL was TiVo'd. I started saving SNL b/c I couldn't stay awake until 1am anymore on a saturday and it made me sad to miss the sketch comedy.

Push play on Steve-o.
Laugh at some opening political skit.
Lie down and get comfy.
Fall asleep.
Wake up briefly during first musical number.
Think, "oh good... just in time, 'weekend update' will be next."
Wake up to see the credits rolling.

What happened to me at 10 am is exactly what used to happen to me on saturday nights, to the minute... Losing Tina Fey might have been the last straw... Maybe I'm not the one getting old.

Pocket Change

You read about my recent shopping extravaganza at GAP.

Since then, I have felt so much more fashionable, but wonder why it has taken me so long to make this leap... To boy jeans.

First of all, why has this sensible sizing (waist/length) not ever been given over to women's clothes. I've been told: b/c women have different sized hips and butts and thighs. But um, yeah, so do men- We can still have different "cuts" and "styles" of pants and still start with a more logical system of sizing like "waist/length." These boy-jeans, they just fit me better- it's like wrapping up a tiny package in a large box: What's under these boy jeans? Whoa! A pretty girl.

Last boy-jean observation: So much more pocket space! I'm not kidding. The pockets on these things go halfway down my leg. What's that about?!? The other day, there was something on my chair hurting my thigh (very close to the back of my knee) and I realized it was my wallet (which sits high up on my ass, just under my belt in my girl jeans.) Is this really safe? I try to put very little in these pockets, b/c I'm just vain enough not to want to look "bumpy." But I am a SERIOUS pack rat. I could see over time all kinds of shit getting stashed. It would start innocently enough, gum, cell phone, lipgloss, lists, receipts. But then it would advance to maps, ipods, cameras, wrenches, lightbulbs, magazines, paperback novels, and anything I think I might "need later" in these pockets. A slippery slope, my friends... a slippery slope.