Various Offerings, Sweet, Cool and of Substance

First, Sweet:

One of my favorite traditions is the Washington Post Peep's contest. I've always wanted to enter.  I have this vision of doing the scene from the Ten Commandments with Moses saying, "Let my Peeple go." 

No one has done that but this year's selection is worthy of your attention.  My favorite is the Peeping Tom Peep.

Go Vote for the Peeples!

It's a calorie free indugence.

Coolness:  I just got on skype.  I feel like I finally entered the world of the Jetsons.  Now, where's my flying car, push button kitchen and robot maid?

Upside: I can call and talk to Mom and Dad and see them.
Downside: I will need to put on make up to use the computer.

Finally, for something more of substance, my friend Maria sends along a link to the Jone's Design Company.  It makes sense to me that someone who loves beauty and makes a living helping others discover how to make it happen in their home, would be drawn to deeper things.

P.S. Happy Birthday Regina!  You got potty trained so it's legal for you to be four now.

Memo to the Washington Post and Press Corp

He's just not that into you.

Dana Milbank wrote a piece about how the media was shut out of every conference meeting at the recent "successful" Nuclear Security Summit. He lamented the decision to keep foreign and traditional Washington Press corp regulars out of the loop. Having to rely only on press releases from the White House, those who rely on pure written copy for their editorial content glibly proclaimed the Summit "Obama's Sterling Success." and practically parachuted onto the decks of Air Craft Carriers to proclaim their guy the man of the moment, the creator of peace in our time and lord of all he sees.

Katie Couric in particular went a bit overboard with her coy, "Can we safely say, Mission Accomplished?" Sure if you don't mind that nothing got done. Sure if you don't mind that all the deals are voluntary. Sure if you don't mind if none of the states that actually are threats didn't show and aren't in compliance. Sure if you ignore that China refused and so did Russia. Sure if you don't mind that there will be a four year lag before actual enforcement which as we said, was purely voluntary. So you can say it was fabo! Provided you aren't going to look beyond the cover sheet and don't revisit this issue for the next five years. Sure if you are only skeptic if a Republican proposes anything.

But back to Dana and company. I feel your pain. Really. I know you were ditched when he skipped off to a soccer game sans any buds. I know you're bothered that he doesn't phone and he hasn't responded to your 747 text messages or 116 twitters. But you wanted a reciprocal relationship. Others are much less needy. I know it hurts and I know you don't understand why. But in time, you will.

He's just not that into you.

Tebow and the Super Bowl and Commercials

Pro abortion advocates are going insane over a 30 second ad by Heisman Trophy Winner, Pat Tebow and his mom. She was counseled to have an abortion of her fifth pregnancy because of serious medical complications. Obviously, she didn't follow the Doctor's recommendations. Their family's witness to their faith is what would be showcased in this half minute advertisement.
From the Washington Post Jan 27th

"CBS's acceptance of the advocacy ad seems to mark a shift in network policy against airing Super Bowl commercials with divisive political or social content.”An ad that uses sports to divide rather than to unite has no place in the biggest national sports event of the year -- an event designed to bring Americans together," Jehmu Greene, president of the Women's Media Center, said in a statement."
Personal snark, "I'm sure Greene and other members of the Women's Media Center just love to fire up the grill, cook some ribs, wings and pour cold ones while they watch the Super Bowl."

Now I love football. I like the Super Bowl and I admit I'd be upset if a Pro-abortion video came on during the game so I guess I can understand the ire. But banning ads and topics for ads because they are upsetting to some, smacks of intolerance, of a secular political censorship designed to dampen dissent, deny the existence or validity of alternative view points, and strikes me as a dangerous path for a network. If one witness is that powerful that it cannot be seen, no wonder the media never covers the March for Life as anything other than "There's an event that will affect your commute."

Some (Joy Behar in particular) tried to argue that Tebow could have been an awful person, and thus the fact that he is a talented and reverent football player should not be given any credence as an argument against abortion. Life may be about making choices, but the capacity to be, shouldn't be simply the whims of one over another, whether in war, in a laboratory, in a camp or in a doctor's office. The very existence of the possible as of yet unaired spot has already reminded people that abortion does limit the possibilities that life brings.

The arguments that having a controversial ad in the midst of a social cultural event like the Super Bowl detract from the experience smack of hypocrisy. Go Daddy Girl, Viagra and Beer for every occasion is fine family fare but a person who lived out their faith life and is willing to put dollars on the line to say that this is a good that came from being unafraid to be Pro-Life for a mere 30 seconds; that's worth a boycott, that's worth screaming and shouting.

Now, imagine all the 50 Million since Roe vs. Wade who were denied the opportunity to change the world. 1.37 Million Each year in the United States never got to have 30 seconds. That translates to 3,700 abortions a day.

One brave witness to life provoked all this with 30 seconds. Imagine what the 3,700 of just Superbowl Sunday would have done with lifetimes.

 

Billions and Billions but Who's Counting?

Remember when the statement, “Trust me, I’m from the Government.” Was an ironic and funny line and everyone knew it?

President Barrack Obama said “Criticisms of my plan echo the failed theories that led us into this crisis –theories that Americans rejected in November.” So now, objecting to a 900 Billion dollar pork fest that even some of his own party are feeling a bit queasy about is tantamount to treason. After all, he won. The president’s editorial in the Washington Post and blitzkrieg interviewing on the airways give new meaning to the term, “Bully Pulpit.” Agree or see your country go down in flames. Agree and agree fast or you’re responsible for the end of prosperity as we’ve known it.

There are people who criticize Democratic and Republican actions reflexively because they are political animals. There are hacks. There are partisans and there are those whose livelihood depends upon making whoever is the biggest target, the source of all ill. But the attacks on the stimulus plan have been substantive, not personal. Without being partisan, it is fair to say Mr. President, this is a bad bill. It’s huge. It’s beyond anything we’ve ever done before. It’s full of programs and policies and projects that smell to high heaven and have little if anything to do with stimulus.

Economists, friends and enemies have said so via editorials, commentary, and thoughtful analysis. I’m not sure how big it is now, as the number keeps growing exponentially by the moment, but I do know, just because there’s something in it for everyone, doesn’t make it a good policy or a good economic plan. There are no checks and balances for determining if a job has been saved or created. There is no money to pay for it except by extending debt. We will have those chickens come home to roost for our children and grand children, if not ourselves. The idea that people cannot examine, critique or reject this bill without dire consequences to our country is ludicrous. The idea that there is nothing in this bill which has not been as carefully vetted as your cabinet picks and thus should pass without delay is equally silly.

It’s clear we have an economic problem and it’s clear we need to do something to address it. What is unclear is how spending 900+billion we don’t have, will secure our future.

The general themes of the President’s campaign and of his selection of cabinet appointees and this bill are all the same. “We’re the only ones. This is our only chance. This is the only guy who can fix it.” Forgive me Mr. President, but you are not Obi Ben Kenobi and this bill locked in S.A. 98 H.R. 1 (The American Recovery and Reinvestment Act of 2009) is not our only hope.

Mom's Middle Name is Icarus

Motherhood is a lifelong lesson in humility. In the beginning, you surrender your body. When you first see the child face to face, any part of your heart still your own gets engulfed. But the ego takes a while to whittle down to nothingness, and that comes with the long haul of raising a human being.

I’ve lost two pounds of pride in the past week.

Monday, I was supposed to feel smart. After all, I had an article in the Washington Post. It was my second ever.

Then my nine year old son asked me to play Stratego.

He schooled me.

I didn’t get even close.
The first game, he found my flag in three easy moves using scouts.

The second game, I snapped at him for watching as I arranged my pieces, certain I was telegraphing the location of my flag with every flick of a hand. I tried doing a shell game as I shuffled pieces but then I got confused. He mowed down one row and just flooded the back side, destroying my carefully laid defenses. I believe my casualty rate was 80% and 20% for him. Maybe General Custard had it worse, but few can chalk up such appalling numbers on a field of battle in such consistent play and not be removed from command.

My son tried to console me. “Maybe next time, you’ll do better.” He smiled. “It’s the first two times I’ve won.” He grinned again. He had been playing his dad and older brother. I wondered if the Stratego skill was on the Y chromosome. My son eagerly set up the game again.

“How about chess?” I offered.
No.
“Scrabble?”
Nyet.
“Go Fish?”
He gave me a pittying look and shook his head.

The phone rang. Desperate for a reprieve from another beating, I pounced on the receiver. I would have consented to hear a sales pitch for timeshares at that point but as luck had it, it was my husband. “Hey Honey, I got you several papers. The article looks good.” I temporarily basked in glory again. “She was smart once.” I thought.

My son jumped on the phone. “Dad! Dad! I crushed Mom! It was beautiful! She never had a clue where my flag was and I Won!” Back to Earth.

My other son came into the room, looked at my reactive set up to the prior game’s obliteration and started giving me pointers. Proof that it really had been as bad as I thought; my victorious son did not protest my getting help. He even offered some strategic tips. Fifteen minutes of tutorial on feints and defenses, strategic losses and the effective use of the spy and I still lost splendidly. Again. And Again. And Again. Now I know there are games where you have to lose multiple times to grasp the concept, games like Chess and Go, Hearts and Spades, but after a perfect record of 0 and 6, my son must have felt bad, as he didn’t ask for another game.

Maybe I wasn’t enough of a challenge. He disappeared for a while. Just when I was starting to feel perky again about my piece in the Post, my son returned with a new game board under his arm. “You need to work on strategy Mom. So I thought maybe we should play checkers instead.”

I’m not telling who won, but the scale says I lost another pound.

For healthy servings of Humble Pie, try
Humor-Blogs.com

I'm in the Washington Post today!

This is the second time I've made it! Yes I'm proud. Yes I'm bragging. Click the link anyway. Yes the photo is really from our backyard. I've been taking off pruning duty since I killed a squash.


http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/08/03/AR2008080301672.html

Road Trip

In every family history since the beginning of time, there is a story about a well intentioned trip that had all the hallmarks of doom from the start.

The Washington Post in it’s well meaning ways creates Road Trips every weekend to places 3 hours or less away from DC, designed to give the traveler a slice of experience from the locale, highlighting the “Don’t miss whatever you do..” of the off beaten path. But there’s a catch to all of this. Sometimes, the non beaten path has been not travelled for a reason.

This voyage has been created as a precautionary tale against well meaning folks who might have otherwise entertained the notion of making a pilgrimage to Dover, Delaware for Saint Patrick’s Day festivities as suggested in this past Sunday’s Washington Post “The Source” section in future years.

First, let me make a caveat to those Delaware fans out there, we love going to the beaches there and bear no animosity whatsoever towards the “First State,” but I’d wager a Guinness, a freshly picked four leaf clover and all the winnings at Dover Downs Hotel and Casino, the locals could have come up with a better itinerary for catching the highlights of the 3.5 miles showcased of Dover, Delaware.

Getting there: I-95, straight line, 2 hours theoretically but then it’s only 20 miles to DC from my home and that takes an hour. By that type of math, anticipate 4hours with the obligatory gas/provisions stop and artery clog at the bridge.

Going there…this is a time when a DVD player would prove useful, as there isn’t so much as a single cow to point out to the children staring aimlessly out the window, or a corn field, or mountain, or windmill. There’s flat field after flat field of brown at this time of year, or possibly patchy greyish white. Ambient temperature, 40 plus a wind, slightly damp. Think Seattle spring without the chic possibility of flying salmon across a fish market, rural in an uninteresting and endless freeway kind of way. Even getting a competitive game of Alphabet going will take some doing if the powers that be rule out license plates as a source.

What to do: Well, here’s where things got interesting. The first stop on the day was the Johnson Vitrola Museum. “Get out of the car kids, it’s time to see the predecessors of the IPod.” The photo of the mostly brown room with the shiny giant Crumpet attached to the phonograph machine I am sure will bring joy and giggles to that budding spinster in your offspring. It lacks the kitchziness of the Museum of Yarn or the History of the Kazoo. The very air feels drowsy.

“Okay children, it’s time to really have some fun, so let’s head over to “The Green” at First State Heritage Park, for some four leaf clover hunting.”

“We drove three hours to go sit in a park?”

“Shut up and start searching. There’s a reward for the first finder of a four leaf!”

"What's the reward?"

"We get to get back in the warm dry car."
"I'm on it Mom!"
"Me too!"

The thing is, clovers have not quite yet come to full blossom necessarily by March 17th, at least not here. The rain and snow have managed to make the ground marsh like and cool –damp, like Ireland…so it’s an authentic hunt, not that the Irish ever hunt four leaf clovers, that’s just something Americans do…since the shamrock was actually used to teach the Trinity and a four leaf cannot be used that way. We don't find any, but one child thinks he's found one, because another kid mercifully "doctored a three leaf to split one leaf," making four.

“Great trip…where to next?”

“Oh, well, since we came here Sunday, we missed the Schartz Center for the Art’s homage to traditional Irish music, but we can go by the center and stop in Forney’s Jeweler’s because nothing says “I’m Irish” like a porcelain pig with a shamrock painted on his rump. It’s decorative and oh so festive.

"Lovely. I can think of nothing better, except perhaps, for going to the Wiccan shop, Bell Book and Candle, after all, I can’t think of any way to celebrate a Saint’s feast day better than to revel in pagan roots by purchasing a few Celtic books and deity sculptures."

“Wow…what an engaging multi-cultural experience…what’s next?”

The Parade…finally, now we’re talking! School marching bands, homegrown beauty queens and 20 floats featuring mostly local boosters including the Confederate Irish.

The thing is, the whole town is marching and the whole sideline is filled people like us, who read and took seriously, the Washington Post, damp from clover hunting, sleepy from Vitriola watching and busy proselytizing our children to prevent them from becoming junior druids.

Now that we’ve really started to enjoy ourselves, we’ll go see the mechanized potato harvester at the Delaware Agricultural Museum. It’s a kid favorite to see how Irish’s favorite food is pulled from the ground….I can see the little wee bairns dancing jigs from here at the prospect of it all.
“I…need…a drink. “
“ Me too!”

Luckily for us, there’s the Irish Mike’s Olde Towne Pub…which for this day only, is overcrowded as the 2000 people who came to see the parade and participate in all the heart pounding fun seek libation to kill the sinking feeling they’ve just blown a Sunday…

"Hey! I bought a four leaf clover at the Wiccan shop, now we’re lucky so let’s go to the Dover International Speedway or the Dover Down’s Casino."

"Sure, as soon as the 3.5 mile strip that is closed for the day because of the Parade opens up. That should be around eight this evening. We have to hit the road by six."

In the meantime, we’re going to the local McDonald’s for a green shake. Happy Saint Patrick’s Day!

Editor/Spouse: “Psst. Sherry! It’s May. Memorial Day Weekend is coming up. Why are you posting this?”

“This has been a cautionary tale as part of a public service announcement. Drive Carefully. Plan, even better. Thank you.”

Hillary's Family Tree

*This piece was inspired by a puff article on Hillary's relatives, it is a departure from my normal home spun stuff --think of it as dark chocolate instead of your standard every day Hershey's. As Always, I hope it makes you laugh. --Sherry

Who would have thought we could learn something new about Hillary Clinton?

How is it that Hillary's genetic magnificence did not come out when she was campaigning for Bill the first two times around, or when she ran for Senate? The Hillary Camp must have been holding this card for some time now. Imagine, being able to Google HRC and get Angelina Jolie and Madonna. Her Royal Clintoness even has ties to actual royalty, with Camilla Parker Bowles finally married to Prince Charles.

These shocking new details about the history of Hillary come courtesy of Washington genealogist William Addams Reitwiesner and the Washington Post: Reliable Source. (Friday, Nov. 2, 2007, C3) Reitwiesner is a Library of Congress employee. His research also revealed Hillary's musical roots transcended genres, as she is also linked to Celine Dion and Alanis Morissette (tenth cousins once removed). The Washington Post, being the Washington Post, rushed to break the news.

Having done my own research into her genealogical lineage, there are even more startling details that Hillary doesn't want made public.

Indeed, she managed to bury her family ties to eighth cousin twice removed, Margaret Hamilton; you know, the Wicked Witch of the West from the Wonderful Wizard of Oz. The Hillary Camp, aware that this connection would be unpleasant as it might scare small children, commissioned a revisionary tale of this character. It can be seen on Broadway today as the Tony Award winning show: Wicked.

Harder to conceal was the relationship with her French great, great, great uncle Nap--Napoleon Bonaparte to the rest of the world. Although now largely forgotten by the mainstream media, Old Bonie was undone in his first go 'round as Emperor with his preoccupation with the Health Care Reform Act of 1812, his implementation of the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy just prior to the invasion of Russia, his obsession with a vast right wing conspiracy orchestrated by religious conservatives to bring back the monarchy, and his penchant for Lithuanian interns. Oh wait...that last part was from Bill's family tree.

Even though Sandy Berger was able to secret out the records from the Library of Congress in his pants before Reitwiesner could find them, I managed to procure a copy from the recesses of a secret vault in the Clinton Presidential Library.

Forget Albus Dumbledore, the real bombshell in J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter series was the identity of Tom Marvlo Riddle's love child fathered in his sixth year at Hogwarts in the days before free distribution of birth control in high schools. You guessed it, Hillary can trace her true origin to none other, Lord Voldemort.

When confronted about the connection, the Dark Lord shrugged his shoulders and said, "Well, you know, there's no accounting for family."

When confronted about her alleged father while autographing pictures for an adoring crowd of progressives, Clinton responded in typically cryptic Clintonian fashion, "What is a Rose Law Firm by any other name?"

To my horror when I looked down at the autograph she put on my program, instead of seeing Hillary Rodham Clinton I read,
“I AM LADY CHILLHORNNORT.”

I looked up as she walked down the receiving line. She turned and with her smile said—“You and your little blog too.”