5:00 Fridays

So Obama has once again declared he'll repeal Clinton's (Bill's, that is) "Don't Ask Don't Tell" policy. Seems to me that the spirit of that ridiculousness sparked Vegas' "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas" ad campaign. Um, as if we just don't talk about it, it doesn't matter. Yeah, tell that to your jilted bride who's gonna get a mad case of herpes thanks to your hedonistic indiscretions.

Besides that, so much for the whole equality thing. What a novel concept anyway. Have we really seen that work in any realm? I mean really, we wouldn't have Title IX, affirmative action, and so on if Equality really mattered. "Don't Ask Don't Tell" is just one more cog in that stifling machine. I'm thinking that "separate but equal" more closely aligns with where our country has socially been pointing its nose. Then again, based on the raving rants and roars by the likes of a tub bellied arse named Rush and a becurled beauty queen named Sarah, I'd say our nose, theirs and their minions' at least, is pointing elsewhere.

Hear's hoping that Obama makes some headway on the repeal of "Don't Ask Don't Tell." I'm applauding his wisdom with a drink.

Oh, and lest you think this is not a real drink, allow me to point you to page 214 of the fine book The Daily Cocktail that my dear friend Kate gave me.


Gay Marine

few sprigs of fresh mint
4 - 5 lime wedges
1 T sugar
1/2 ounce Grand Marnier
1 1/2 ounces Mount Gay Barbados rum
1 - 2 ounces apple juice (Surely every parent of young kids has this on hand!)


In a silver (or at least stainless steel) cocktail shaker, muddle a few sprigs of mint, the lime wedges, sugar, and Grand Marnier. Add some crushed ice and pour in the rum. Stir and top off with the apple juice. Serve in an old fashioned glass with some mint and a lime wedge as garnish.

Cheers to ALL those patriots who serve loyally, courageously, dutifully.

A Letter to America

Dear America,

Don't let me down. It is a cold, dreary, rainy day in North Carolina. It's the kind of day that calls for tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. It's the kind of day that calls for hot chamomile tea, fluffy slippers, a chenille blanket, and a good long read. It's the kind of day you'd rather make a kitchen sink dinner than go out to the grocery store. It's the kind of day you even feel bad making the take out guy leave his van. It's the kind of day that you just know will leave you will the sniffles tomorrow.

It's the kind of day that will make a difference in our world. We will palpably feel that difference as soon as tomorrow. I promise you this.

Please, America, don't let me down.

It's easy to stay home, put up your feet, click on the TV, and bitch about how arduous and awful this election has been. It's easy to think your measly vote doesn't count and no one will even notice. People don't make strides by doing what's easy. One vote does count. In aggregate it all counts. Exercise your most magnificent right to vote. Women especially, exercise that vote armed with the knowledge of the fight it took to get us here a mere 80-some years ago, armed with the knowledge of the fate that awaits our daughters if a certain ornery old man and his renegade neocon take the White House.

In a game of Rock Paper Scissors, Hope will always kick Fear's snarky little ass.

I will not let my mind wander there for even a minute, for it is truly frightening. It would be disastrous, and that is no hyperbole.

Please, America, don't let me down.

Get off your ass, buck up and prepare for the lines, pack snacks and diversions for your kids, wait with your fellow citizens as you have the opportunity to write history. This is more than a front row seat, America, we are all given the plume to write a new story today.

Heck, in Raleigh you can even drop off your kids at Camp Obama at the St. Mary's Street HQ while you vote. Ask a neighbor to watch the kids and then reciprocate. There are no valid excuses today. We need you. Each and every one. Perhaps this post reeks of desperation and weariness. I suppose it is somewhat true. I am tired, on the verge of spent, yet I'll be pounding the pavement again today with my fellow army of volunteers who are making a real difference. I like to think that this post is also filled with the kinetic energy of hope, optimism, delight, and pride.

While rain might be cold and unpleasant and inconvenient, it brings with it the growth of new life, replenishment, rejuventaion, a reminder of the earth's cycle. The dawn of a new day is at our fingertips, America. Grasp it.

Please America, don't let me down.

Sincerely,
A Mom of 2 Boys Who Deserve to Grow Up in the Presence of Grace and Goodness

Obama Visits Raleigh to Barack the Early Vote

One of many long lines. Throngs of hopeful, patient souls waiting to see the next President of the United States of America, live in Memorex. The Melting Pot personified here today. Wow am I glad I did not drag Bird and Deal to this. Five and three year-olds are not known for their ability to stand in a line for long periods of time unless a Star Wars simulator ride or Toy Story 3D shoot 'em up game is at the end.


Me and my Twitter friend @catnc. See Mac Daddy, I am not talking to imaginary friends on Twitter. @catnc is real. This is not a Bartles & James cardboard cut out. We had just come from coffee with Edie Falco, whose vacation home is in the teeny tiny speck of a town @catnc grew up in. They totally bonded.

Barack is totally pointing to me here.


Here Barack is saying something really smart about how we will be worse off four years from now if John McCain is president. I have a visceral reaction to the mere thought of it.


Another emphatic point here. The man rocks. He simply rocks. Damn if he isn't presidential.


Farewell, Raleigh. Please vote early! Polls are open through Saturday, November 1. You can even register and vote on the same day if you vote early. In North Carolina you cannot register to vote on Election Day, November 4!


See you on November 5, Raleigh. Next time, it's Mr. President.

Dear Red States

This little knee slapper landed in my inbox, and I just had to share. Bear in mind that I live in a red state and was raised in a red state. Both of which are battlegrounds this year (NC and VA). The author of this piece is unknown according to About.com. It's tongue-firmly-planted-in-cheek funny with a good dose of snark baked in. With the snark comes a drizzle of truth.


Dear Red States:

If you manage to steal this election too we've decided we're leaving. We intend to form our own country, and we're taking the other Blue States with us. In case you aren't aware, that includes California , Hawaii , Oregon , Washington , Minnesota , Wisconsin , Michigan , Illinois and all the Northeast. We believe this split will be beneficial to the nation, and especially to the people of the new country of New California.

To sum up briefly: You get Texas , Oklahoma and all the slave states. We get stem cell research and the best beaches. We get the Statue of Liberty. You get Dollywood. We get Intel and Microsoft. You get WorldCom. We get Harvard. You get Ole' Miss. We get 85% of America 's venture capital and entrepreneurs. You get Alabama . We get two-thirds of the tax revenue, you get to make the red states pay their fair share.

Since our aggregate divorce rate is 22% lower than the Christian Coalition's, we get a bunch of happy families. You get a bunch of single moms.

Please be aware that Nuevo California will be pro-choice and anti-war, and we're going to want all our citizens back from Iraq at once. If you need people to fight, ask your evangelicals. They have kids they're apparently willing to send to their deaths for no purpose, and they don't care if you don't show pictures of their children's caskets coming home. We do wish you success in Iraq, and hope that the WMDs turn up, but we're not willing to spend our resources in Bush's Quagmire.

With the Blue States in hand, we will have firm control of 80% of the country's fresh water, more than 90% of the pineapple and lettuce, 92% of the nation's fresh fruit, 95% of America's quality wines, 90% of all cheese, 90% of the high tech industry, 95% of the corn and soybeans (thanks Iowa!), most of the U.S. low-sulfur coal, all living redwoods, sequoias and condors, all the Ivy and Seven Sister schools plus Stanford, Cal Tech and MIT.

With the Red States, on the other hand, you will have to cope with 88% of all obese Americans (and their projected health care costs), 92% of all U.S. mosquitoes, nearly 100% of the tornadoes, 90% of the hurricanes, 99% of all Southern Baptists, virtually 100% of all televangelists, Rush Limbaugh, Bob Jones University, Clemson and the University of Georgia.

We get Hollywood and Yosemite, thank you.

Additionally, 38% of those in the Red states believe Jonah was actually swallowed by a whale, 62% believe life is sacred unless we're discussing the war, the death penalty or gun laws, 44% say that evolution is only a theory, 53% that Saddam was involved in 9/11 and 61% of you crazy bastards believe you are people with higher morals then we lefties.

Finally, we're taking the good pot, too. You can have that dirt weed they grow in Mexico

Peace out,
Blue States

Racism is a Race that Must End

I wrote my college history thesis on the Vietnam anti-war movement at the University of Virgina. A rather narrow topic that required many hours spent in the basement of Alderman Library and in personal interviews with a tape recorder in hand. I took notes in my spiral bound notebook because the Trapper Keeper was too bulky. I had the honor and pleasure of talking to men who were outraged at the political, racial, and social divisions of their day. Men who took a stand, often against their upbringing, their parents, their professors, and their fraternity brothers.

Keep in mind it was 1969 when these men clad in suit coats and ties were quietly protesting the Vietnam war at a conservative Southern school where women (4 of them) had just been admitted. Nevermind that it took The University from 1895 to 1969 to finally admit women to its hallowed halls. The anti-war movement at UVa. was not newsworthy on the same scale as Kent State, Berkley or the Universities of Michigan and Wisconsin. But is was news in Charlottesville, a quintessentially quaint college town.

The climate is much the same now.

If those old cassette tapes still worked I know I would sense the same emotion, zeal, and frustration that I sense among my peers today. The handful of protesting men could sit as bystanders no longer. The racist jokes and chauvanist banter could be ignored no more. They took action, as a small group, and faced jeering, mimickry, and black balling. But they did not shed their convictions. They did not silence their battlecry.

I had a History of the Civil Rights Movement professor in college who inspired me to write about this small, unknown anti-war movement in the South. He told tales of small groups of citizens banding together for a common cause, to right what was wrong. He spoke of grassroots power, civil disobedience, living by conviction. Perhaps you've heard of my professor, Julian Bond. He regaled us with harrowing tales of the civil rights movement. He brought in speakers who marched, protested, organized, and battled for us. All of us. Rosa Parks spoke. I can still hear her story and see her grandmotherly face. I read to my kids about Rosa Parks now and I am proud to tell them I heard her tale spun from her own frail lips.

Julian Bond, Rosa Parks, and the men of UVa. cemented for me the reality of the fight they fought. The made it more than a chapter in a history book. They were more than answers on a test or names engraved on a plaque covered in ivy. The gave me faces of change. Of hope. Of grassroots power.

Our climate is much the same today.

I used to joke that people who vote for John McCain are either greedy or stupid. Sure, that's anger rearing its snarky head. But one thing I cannot shake is that some people voting for John McCain are racist. I say this from firsthand experience. I realize it is no small claim but I stand behind my words and assessment.

The beast that is Racism snarls its rotten teeth and growls its hot gasp in corners we don't suspect. Let me recount a conversation I just had with someone very close to me. She had just taken a Greyhound trip and arrived delightfully on time. I asked about her trip, and she commented it was fine, easy, and swift. She went on to tell me the trip was fine because there were lots of white people on the bus. As soon as the words escaped her lips she backpedaled, trying to suck them back in. Racism managed to squeak past, stealth in its manner. She felt ashamed and disappointed in her remarks. But the sad truth is that the feelings and the words were there, hovering above us. It made me sick to my stomach. This person is voting for Barack Obama and has been a staunch, tireless supporter and volunteer. I tell you this tale so you see how camoflaged and unexpected Racism can be.

Another friend has been saying for months now that she simply cannot vote for Obama because she is worried about his safety. She, a 30-something white woman, speaks with feigned empathy and concern as she says a vote against Obama will help spare his life. She cannot bear for the country to experience another Martin Luther King or Bobby Kennedy tragedy. Oh to hear her treacly earnestness is enough to make a diabetic go into shock. I call bullshit here. She takes issue with Obama's race. Period. She cannot get past it. She knows nothing of either candidate's policies. She is not politically active, much less aware. She has said that Obama will be assassinated while in office and she does not want to be responsible for the country's loss and his family's loss with her vote. This is simple Racism hiding in the wings of sympathy. I don't buy it.

I hear this story, this canned rationale, from a number of people. My friends have shared similar tales. We see through you. We distrust you. We're calling you on it.

These subtle forms of racism affect me as a woman of color who was not born in this country or raised Christian (YIKES! Someone alert the authorities!). My boys are of mixed race since Mac Daddy is as white as they make 'em up in Wisconsin. They are first generation American. They will always be the children of a brown immigrant mother. We teach them what an honor that is.

It would be a lie if I told that life is peachy keen. When we are out as a family we get plenty of stares and snickers, especially when we are off the beaten path. Race is a hot topic in these parts, and many people see the world as black and white, literally and figuratively. When acquaintances or neighbors rant about immigrants or funny accents, I remind them that I am an immigrant, that my parents speak English with an accent, that they speak Bengali, Hindi, German, French, and Italian with an accent too. And then I try to bite my tongue and not remark about how the rest of the country thinks a Southern accent sounds hick.

Anyway, when I gently interject a reminder of who I am into the conversation, I get a blase head toss, waving hand as if to say pshaw and an "Oh, you're different. We don't even think of you as Indian." Whhaaaaatttt????? This is supposed to make me feel better? To discount my heritage, my appearance, my identity is supposed to make me feel better? Does "different" mean "better?" Is it somehow complimentary that they don't see me as Indian because I am "good enough" to be considered one of them? Someone help me understand what the fuck a comment like that means.

News flash, folks, that's Racism snickering in your psyche.

This is how our friends at Merriam Webster define racism:
1 : a belief that race is the primary determinant of human traits and capacities and that racial differences produce an inherent superiority of a particular race
2 : racial prejudice or discrimination
— rac·ist \-sist also -shist\ noun or adjective

The underslying subtleties of racism are difficult to express in words. But I feel them all the time. During this heated, and historic, election, I hear them all the time. Silent racism plagues more people than we realize. Many friends in our lifetime will come to disappoint us when they give voice to their silent racism. Bear to witness my friend who is voting for John McCain in principle of race alone.

I think back to the professorial, driven, enchanting Julian Bond. I think of Rosa Parks speaking from what might as well have been a pulpit. I think of the brave men who were willing to put their necks on the line at a conservative good ol' boys' school. I think of the faceless, countless others who have devoted their time, and their lives, to bring equality to our country. A country founded on eqality and freedom in the first place. I think of them and feel unabashed pride in my vote.

I am not voting for Obama because he is black. I am voting for him because he will help make this country change into what the people who inspired me back in 1990 at the University of Virginia fought for. It is no understatement to say that he is our Bobby Kennedy.

Joe and Jill Went to the Hill

I shunned Girl Scouts, cheerleading, my all girls boarding school, the field hockey and lacrosse teams, and the Delta-somethings to whom I wrote a fat check every semester. I was more than a foot dragger when it came to all that stuff. I was never a girl who wanted to hang with the other girls. At least not in an organized fashion. I couldn't deal with the pettiness, popularity contests, and primping. The insecurity (mine and theirs) was too much to bear. Add hormones to the mix, and it's a veritable beaker of hydrocloric acid about to erupt. It seemed that there was a lot of gabbing and not much doing. I was just not one of those girls.

It was not until well into my adulthood that I saw my fellow X-chromosomes in a different light. I have found that without us, nothing gets done. And we can gab and do at the same time. That old tired adage about behind every man is a great woman is a gross understatement. Behind every man is an even greater, more organized, more disciplined, more aware, multitasker of a woman.

Here's food for thought: By electing Barack Obama to the White House, our country gets a 4-fer. Way better than a bogo ("buy one get one," as we marketing folks say). Along with Barack, we get Joe, Michelle, and Jill.

Jill, you say?

Jill, say I.

Dr. Jill Biden.

I had the priviledge of talking with Dr. Biden on a conference call with some other bloggers last week. She was articulate, candid, impassioned, and earnest. This is a learned woman with 2 masters degrees (English and Education) and a doctorate in Educational Leadership. She has devoted her life to children and learning. She raised three kids and somehow managed to earn all those degrees. But she's not a bookish dorky type. Oh no. She's confident, clever, and laughs easily without being folksy. She made no disparaging remarks about the McCain ticket; Jill Biden does not need to resort to snarky banter.

Dr. Biden has taught emotionally troubled kids and currently teaches at Delaware Community and Technical College. She is passionate about literacy, instilling confidence in our youth through their studies, helping students find their voice, and bringing books to low income children and families through the Book Buddies program. She is also dedicated to breast cancer awareness, serving as the president of the Biden Breast Health Initiative, a non-profit that provides free educational breast health programs free of charge to schools in Delaware.

Aside from her impressive resume, she responded to our questions (that we asked off the cuff, not prepared and presented ahead of time) with straight answers and candor. It is clear that this amazing woman is fired up. She is no shrinking violet cowering behind her powerful husband. While Joe is on the campaign trail, Jill continues to teach four days a week. That demonstrates an unwielding commitment to her students.

I could wax on but I think you get my drift. Obama will be backed by some pretty damn smart minds. Sure, Michelle and Jill won't be sitting in on cabinet meetings or hanging out on the Hill while bills are being written and argued. But they also won't be strolling the boutiques of Georgetown whiling away the hours while their menfolk do the real work. Nuh uh. Not these women who are forces to be reckoned with on their own. And they shop at Target and off the rack anyway!

I don't spend much time at Mac Daddy's office but I do listen to him vent and offer solutions sometimes. I do some proofreading and editing (of nothing confidential, mind you). And he does the same for me. I did have to quickly squash his help on brainstorming for a client once when he came up with some cockamamie idea for a lawyer retreat: an underwear and lingerie show called Legal Briefs. Yeah, other that than Mac Daddy is actually a second set of eyes and brain power that I lean on. You get my drift.

I tell you, I would cast my vote for any combination of Obamas and Bidens. Impressive credentials and a passion for justice abounds in this foursome.

Dr. Jill Biden is not the distant, wallflower the handlers keep out of the limelight. She simply has more important things to tend to. Her family and students.

PS
Note that I did not mention Sarah Palin one time in this post.

PPS
Note that I also did not compare Michelle Obama to the First Dude, Todd Palin.

Women Make the World Go Round: GASP!

North Carolina is a state scarred with the wounds of battle. Its fertile fields, cascading mountains, and illustrious shores have seen the anguish of war. The pain and suffering are still palpable. The lore still very much alive. The history retold. North Carolina has seen its share of battle. The folks here know what it is to don their proverbial armor and hoist their bayonettes to fight the good fight. "Battleground state" is more than a metaphor here.

We are a battleground once more. A political battleground, but the tension still runs fierce.

Obama might actually have a shot to turn the fields of red into a shade of glorious, hopeful blue.

It started with 12 girlfriends having dinner. And like the old shampoo commercial (Breck?), they told two friends. And so on. And so on. And so on...

Four weeks later it was 225 women.

G.A.S.P. was born and has hit a rapid growth spurt.

Hope
Change
Leader
Economy
Integrity
Peace

Those were the words we chanted in unison. It was musical, magical, moving. 225 women dedicated to the same cause: to help elect Barack Obama to the White House.

Sure, it started as Girlfriends Appalled About Sarah Palin. It ended in a fire under all our derrieres to donate, volunteer, canvas, knock, call, feed, stuff, walk, talk, breathe, live, give. We are a sorority of Obama evangelists. Super Heroines. We are all stepping outside our comfort zones. Whether we are stepping in our Manolos, Birkenstocks, Rainbows, Tory Burches, Dansko, Nikes, Pumas, Simples, or No Names is irrelevant. We are stepping out together to lay to rest the disastrous last eight years. We are stepping out to give credence to our system and to women who have worn the mantle of leadership before us. We will not be mocked or used or puppeteered.

The power of women cannot be discounted.

G.A.S.P. is Momentum personified. G.A.S.P. is Motivation. Dedication. Realization. Emancipation.

Women are a force to be reckoned with. Nothing, nothing my friends, stands in the way of our Conviction.

In the words of G.A.S.P.'s battle cry, "We believe that as Wake County goes, so goes North Carolina. As North Carolina goes, so goes America. And as America goes, so goes the world."

Seeing Red: A Tale of Hostility

Sit down. Pour yourself a lovely but decidedly unelitist glass of pinot (grigio or noir, your call). Get comfortable. Put your feet up on your coffee table (that is, unless you ever eat off of it). I'd like to tell you a little story. A true story. It's autobiographic and it happened today.

I wrote recently about my struggle to be friends with Republicans during these contentious times. I received many comments that injected the voice of reason into my psyche. I appreciate those people taking the time to help me see the light and not fall into this my-way-is-the-only-way abyss I teeter on the cusp of. I also got some anonymous comments nudging me to try to understand the other side and be a true tolerant liberal. It's curious why some commenters are anonymous and others go out on a limb. But that's neither here not there, simply a sidebar in my head.

So today I thought I'd start implementing my new be-nice-to the-other-side philosophy. I wear my Obama button everyday. It's like my watch; I feel naked without it. I proudly support my guy and never making disparaging comments about McCain outside my home and my blog. I simply let my button do the talking. It's not my place to strike up political conversations in public or try to change any minds. Unless I am asked something specific, I keep my trap shut (hard to believe, but true). And when asked, I answer in a positive light. While I might disagree with McCain supporters, I do not pick fights. At five feet tall, 100 pounds, you wouldn't pick fights either; it's not in my best interest.

Since I mistakenly left my sunroof open last night during an unforecasted torrential downpour, I had to take my car to be steam cleaned and detailed. While hanging out in the waiting room, I saw a man walk in wearing a McCain/Palin button. Tall, fit, lanky even, jeans, khaki button down shirt, loafers, graying in that erudite British Literature professor kind of way. I smiled and waved hello. He smiled back, making eye contact and smiling graciously. There are few things I appreciate more than eye contact. I thought we were off to a great start. It wasn't hard at all to be pleasant to this guy. I felt my blue anger fade a few shades.

And then our conversation went something like this:

Me, pointing to my Obama button: "Hey, look at us each supporting our guy. It's great to be part of this process, isn't it?"

Man, whose eye contact and warm smile instantly turns to disdain: "He's an idiot and so are you!"

Me, astounded, left for speechless: "Um, really? You think I'm an idiot? You don't even know me. I was just trying to be friendly."

Man, about a foot taller than my five foot tall frame, poking his finger in my face, veins pulsing in his neck: "Yeah, you're both idiots. You're gonna be sorry! You're gonna be real sorry!"

Me, eyes bulging, gulping, flabbergasted, somehow maintaining calm demeanor (very much unlike me): "Sir, I meant nothing disrespectful. I was trying to be nice, just pointing out that it's good to be part of this exciting time. I don't care how you vote. I just think it's important that everyone does vote."

Man, grunting, walking away: "Well, you're stupid. He's an idiot. You've got something coming!"

Me, still cool as the proverbial cucumber: "It's a shame you feel that way."

Then I called Mac Daddy who bore the wrath that had been escalating inside of me. He dutifully listened and advised getting the guy's license plate number. That Mac Daddy, he's no dummy.

So the man gets into his car, revs the engine, guns it out of the parking lot. He turns back to glare at me and flips me off. Middle. Finger. Even the car wash worker looked at me and said, "I'm not voting for Obama but I would never treat you like that." I tipped him five bucks.

The man drove off in a double cab white pick up truck peppered with McCain and Elizabeth Dole stickers and a vanity license plate that said PRAYER. Central casting couldn't have found a better stereotype. If you see PRAYER cruising the strip, make sure you wear your Obama bling proudly.

This guy's ranting was not analagous to a Wisconsin fan badgering a dyed-in-the-yellow-and blue Michigan fan about an upcoming football game at Camp Randall. He was plain mean and disrespectful. There was no elbow nudging and bwah ha ha-ing going on in good fun. When we flaunt our political leanings, we owe it those brands to behave in a fashion that is becoming to that brand. It is our duty to represent that which we honor. I'm pretty sure Jesus and John McCain would not condone his actions. To be so brashly and unabashedly rude to someone is abominable under any circumstance. Even I, hothead left leaning opiner and whiner of the century, would never do what he did to me. Don't get me wrong, I'm not playing the role of victim here. I'm simply saying that that man did nothing to help ease me on my journey to understanding the other side. Granted, he is but one example. But his behavior is on target with other experiences I have had during this election season. Let me share a few real examples that have shaped my disdain, frustration, and utter lack of patience for the conservative faction. Take a look and you might start to understand my paradigm, for we are all products of our experiences:

• A man who flipped me off and yelled anti-liberal sentiments to me while Bird and Deal were in the car with me (and obviously visible to the driver who was higher up than us).
• A man who flicked his burning cigarette butt onto the hood of my car at a red light, again with Bird and Deal in the car. He was firing obscenities too.
• A man who dangerously tailgated me and almost ran me off the road for a long stretch of two lane road on my way to see a client in Greensboro, fist raised in air, yelling god knows what at me.

I have nothing on my car other than an Obama 08 sticker. No negative Bush cracks or anti-McCain sentiments. Obama 08 has sparked such scorn for this mom with two innocent young boys in her car. My experiences are not in a vacuum. Others have recounted similar tales. This along with the rash of Obama yard signs being desecrated,, knocked over and stolen from people's yards. What gives? Is my experience really isolated? Am I wearing a target invisible to the donkey's eye?

This man's behavior was nothing more than childish. And rude. And unproductive. He represents the lowest of his kind. The kind whom I am certain John McCain would condemn.

So tell me, have you had similar experiences? I also want to know about the Left harassing the Right. Everything can go two ways, and I want to hear it all. Do tell.

Friends in Low Places

As you know, this presidential election is near killing me. I have been helping in my little way for months now. This is my second presidential election as a citizen of a red state. My wounds have barely healed from 2004. Some are are reopening and oozing. I am used to living in bastions of liberalism. Madison. Chicago. Minneapolis. Washington, D.C. I never knew people who voted for George Bush (or at least people who fessed up to it). My parents have been staunch Democrats since they earned their American citizenship and the right to vote in 1988. I learned through osmosis, I suppose. Isn't that how we learn all of our values? And how we vote is primarily based on values, right? Well they are for me. My values are everything. They drive me socially, politically, economically. They define me.

I value my civil rights. And others' too. I value my body. I value the air I breath, the water I drink, the mountains I hike. I value the safety of the food I feed my family. I value the common good over the common greed. I value the education my sons get. I value literacy. I value curiosity. I value raising minimum wage. I value change. I value responsibility. I value global friendships. I value equal pay for women. I value parental leave and family medical leave. I value caring for the young, the elderly, the infirmed, the innocent, the voiceless. I value access to competent, caring physicians. I value the ground I walk on. I value the security of the roads I drive, the airspace I fly, the shores I wade. I value my country's global position. I value the lives of our soldiers and their kin. I value other creatures and their place in the ecosystem that sustains us. I value economic prosperity. I value the ability to put out a hand to help others lift their bootstraps. I value integrity, honesty, and advocacy of my elected officials. I value actions. I value freedom of choice. I value unhindered fun. I value guns being kept off my streets. I value the right to say what I please. I value universal access to healthcare, economic stability, education, and freedom. I value diversity. I value alternatives to oil. I value a solid, secure, sustainable planet. I value a future for my sons that is free of hate and vitriol and a draft. I value justice, peace, the American dream.

This is how my mom and dad raised me. These are their values I pass on to Bird and Deal. This is our legacy to my sons, first generation Americans.

How can I be friends with people whose values are not mine? People whose values stray so far from mine that a chasm the size of a galaxy separates us? What will be our common denominators? Our threads? How can we reconcile our differences in a meaningful way? How will we toast in shared joy instead of clash with animosity? How am I to stop all the judging, gagging, eye rolling, knuckle cracking, nail biting, heart racing, stammering, and gasping that I am not poker player enough to hide? How can I stop myself from asking, "What the fuck are you thinking? McPain is a disaster of EPIC proportions? You are irresponsible and downright un-American to vote for this vile ticket that will set women and our country and polar bears back at least 100 years. You are thinking with your short-term wallet instead of with your long-term portfolio. You disgust me with your selfish, racist, bullying ways. I have no respect for your pompous ilk. You care about yourself only with no respect for your fellow men, women, and children. Or animals for that matter. You think you have a right to define and play god. Your way is not the only way. You are a closed minded wretch who is a parasite on this planet. Your disillusionment is calamitous. I cannot break bread with you. I cannot trust you. I cannot stomach you!" With this I struggle.

Perhaps there would be some kicking, hair pulling, profuse cussing, elbowing, and pinching. Whom am I kidding? Fisticuffs would ensue, and I'd likely be on the bottom of the pile. I'm only five feet tall after all.

Do you detect some anger in my voice? Don't be fooled. It's fear.

I thought we hit rock bottom four years ago. I had no freaking clue that things could go ever deeper into the guts of hell. I still feel that our reality is surreal. McPain cannot possibly be happening. Those signs don't really read "Women for McCain." "Really?" I want to ask. "Because nothing about his policy is for you." I am filled with caustic anger that singes the soul. I admit to this. I just don't know how to escape it.

And so I plunder on. Canvassing. Writing. Calling. Blogging. Donating. I empty myself of this enmity through my written words and positive actions. So far I have not uttered words of ugliness, though you better believe I am thinking them behind my veil of "Hey, how are you? So nice to see you. Coffee? Nah, 9:00 doesn't work for me. Catch you later."

Yes We Can! Yes We Should!

We have 42 days to get Barack Obama elected into office. 42 days, the home stretch akin to the last weeks of pregnancy. The anticipation too explosive to control. The eagerness too much to articulate without wild Italian grandma-like gesticulation. The stakes too high to sit back on our seats of cynicism and complacency.

We must keep our sleeves rolled up, our feet moving, our knuckles knocking, our fingers dialing, our words debating. We must all be the Little Engine That Could, 10-fold in purpose.

Think you don't have time to help the Obama campaign? Think your vote is enough (while it is fantastic, it is not enough given the political, social, environmental, and financial climate in our country today!). Here are some easy things you can do to make a difference. Trust me here. Easy, fast, fulfilling. Consider it the Big Mac of Obama tasks.

1. Make a donation to the campaign: www.barackobama.com. You can even go to MoveOn and get even get a free sticker, button, or T-shirt. I did. I wear my Obama gear proudly.
2. Host a fundraising event at your house. Throw some brats (as in the German sausage, not the neighborhood bully) on the grill, buy some German beer, and invite friends over for Baracktoberfest. It's a cheap, fun way to raise money. And don't ya just LOVE the idea? Beer makes everything better. No lederhosen required.
3. Make calls on behalf of the campaign from the comfort of your home. All the information you need is right on the website: www.barackobama.com. Practice different voices and accents if you want to. Just make the calls!
4. Buy an Obama button, T-shirt, bumper sticker, or yard sign and use it as an opportunity to talk to people about why Obama should be our next president. These items are readily available online in a variety of places: Cafe Press, Obama Zen, Etsy. A friend's beagle even has an Obama button on her collar, and they make lots of friends at the dog park.
5. You don't have to know about every single issue, just talk about the issues that matter to you. Your passion will come through. I've heard some harsh words about my passion, but it's worth it knowing I am doing all that I can to give my country the giant Etch-A-Sketch shake it needs. There's not enough Tylenol in the world to cure the McPain that lurks.
   
6. Contact people you know in swing states and talk to them about why they should vote for Obama. Point them towards resources to read and investigate on their own.
7. Travel to a swing state (NM, NV, CO, MI, OH, VA, NC, NH) to canvas. The campaign can arrange a free plane ticket and place to stay. Go to this site to find out more: Travel for Change. If you live in California, you can travel to NV for a weekend to canvas. The CA Obama headquarters has arranged buses to transport people.
8. Remind everyone you know to make sure they are registered to vote! The deadline in North Carolina is October 10. Cliche as it sounds, Every. Vote. Counts. Go here to find out if you are registered.
9. Send this post to everyone you know!

It is the action of one person, in aggregate, that makes the mountain move. Do it for our purple mountains' majesty.

And the next time you're feeling angry and frustrated about the election, take a deep breath and watch this for a little inspiration. We Are the Ones.

Getting it Straight

I got this email yesterday that I just had to share. It's got my snarky tone but captures the issues rather succinctly. And yeah, it's slanted. But if you took the lean facts and charted them side by side, you'd come to the same conclusion. Take a looksie. And do your day's public service by passing it on.

Seriously, it's time we start looking at things a bit differently. It's time we start doing our own digging and thinking. It's time we think about the long term impact of the McPain ticket. It's time we apply realistic metrics to what both sides are promising. It's time to get serious.

I realize that Obama is running against McCain, not Palin. But the combination of the McPain ticket is frightening. Take a look at what Eve Ensler wrote about the ticket. It's a package deal, my friends.

Excerpted from the email I got:

If you grow up in Hawaii , raised by your grandparents, you're "exotic, different."

Grow up in Alaska eating mooseburgers: a quintessential American story.

If your name is Barack you're a radical, unpatriotic Muslim.

Name your kids Willow , Trig, and Track: you're a maverick.

Graduate from Harvard law School and you are unstable.

Attend 5 different small colleges before graduating: you're well grounded.

If you spend 3 years as a brilliant community organizer, become the first black President of the Harvard Law Review, create a voter registration drive that registers 150,000 new voters, spend 12 years as a Constitutional Law professor, spend 8 years as a State Senator representing a district with over 750,000 people, become chairman of the state Senate's Health and Human Services committee, spend 4 years in the United States Senate representing a state of 13 million people while sponsoring 131 bills and serving on the Foreign Affairs, Environment and Public Works and Veteran's Affairs committees, you don't have any real leadership experience.

If your total resume is: local weather girl (sports caster), 4 years on the city council and 6 years as the mayor of a town with fewer than 7,000 people, 20 months as the governor of a state with 650,000 people, then you're qualified to become the country's second highest ranking executive.

If you have been married to the same woman for 19 years while raising 2 beautiful daughters, all within Protestant churches, you're not a real Christian.

If you cheated on your first wife with a rich heiress, and left your disfigured wife and married the heiress the next month, you're a Christian.

If you teach responsible, age appropriate sex education, including the proper use of birth control, you are eroding the fiber of society.

If, while governor, you staunchly advocate abstinence only, with no other option in sex education in your state's school system while your unwed teen daughter ends up pregnant, you're very responsible.

If your wife is a Harvard graduate lawyer who gave up a position in a prestigious law firm to work for the betterment of her inner city community, then gave that up to raise a family, your family's values don't represent America 's.

If your husband is nicknamed "First Dude", with at least one DUI conviction and no college education, who didn't register to vote until age 25 and once was a member of a group that advocated the secession of Alaska from the USA , your family is extremely admirable.

OK, much clearer now.

I Heart Matt Damon Even More Now

One more reason to love Matt Damon. Sigh.

Can't you totally hear the passion in his voice? It's as close to Matt + Passion that I'm ever gonna get. Hubba. Hubba.

RNC Highlights from the Peanut Gallery

My whole being is over saturated with politics right now. I am sweating, bleeding, and drooling blue but seeing red. I could not bear to watch the Republican Convention. The two nights Mac Daddy had it on in the background left me unable to sleep with dizzying, paralyzing thoughts of my children's oppressive, right-wing future. Images of a King Kong size Sarah Palin haunted what fitful sleep I managed to capture. All snark aside, I am truly afraid. I am afraid that the constitutional fabric that weaves this country together is unraveling before my eyes and no amount of clear nail polish is going to fix it.

Since I am fed up, scared, frustrated, bitchy, and maybe a tad bit negative, I thought I'd post my friend KC's convention insights instead of my usual crazy liberal woman ranting. KC is more moderate than I am and tends to view the world with less criticism and snarkiness than I do. She is certainly a voice of reason and gives the benefit of the doubt, which is definitely not my nature. So here are excerpts from an email she sent me post-RNC:

"Did you watch the Republican convention last night? I watched some of it, in the interest of fairness. Here are some of my thoughts about Tuesday night's offerings:

It looked like a freakin' Klan rally. I think the only non-white person I saw was John McCain's adopted daughter. Not particularly representative of America. No wonder they're so hot to keep illegal immigrants out - they know the children of those immigrants ain't gonna vote for them! The notion of Internet voting must just make them break out in the screaming meemies.

Nobody cared much what George W had to say. What an embarrassingly lukewarm reception from his party's most rabid supporters!

Fred Thompson reminded me of a used car salesman. Lots of folksy chatter but not much of substance. The only interesting part of his speech was when he described McCain's injuries and torture in vivid detail. On PBS, they cut away to a crowd shot during the most gruesome part of that speech to a group of people who were LAUGHING. Some cameraman having a little fun, I think!

The loudest, most enthusiastic applause was for a Democrat (Joe Lieberman). Although the audience got really quiet when he started talking about the necessity of putting partisan politics aside to accomplish great things.

Republicans can't dance! Sheesh, how hard can it be to bop around to "Johnny B. Goode"? It looked like half the attendees were taking that opportunity for a potty break, they way they were scrambling over each other. The ones who stuck out just kept shouting "Go Johnny Go", even after the refrain was over, through the guitar solo. I think it's the first time half of them ever heard that song. Come on people, this is Chuck Berry. We sent that song up into space on Voyager as a greeting to anybody else who might live out there in the universe! What a contrast
to when they played "Ain't No Stoppin' Us Now" at the Democratic convention - people were swaying back and forth, waving their signs IN TIME WITH THE MUSIC, and just enjoying being with each other. That's the America I can identify with.

I watched again last night to see what Rudy had to say and to watch a little of Sarah Palin. According to Guilliani, we are under attack RIGHT NOW and ALL THE TIME and we need a leader who is going to FIGHT THE BAD GUYS. Then he talked about the economy for about 30 seconds. And he talked so fast and so quietly that I could barely hear what he was saying! It was like at the end of a commercial when the super-fast-talker guy runs over the terms and conditions. And then it was back to FIGHTING THE BAD GUYS, this time by drilling in the Alaskan Wildlife Refuge. You want to know what the crowd started chanting? "Drill, baby, drill". I kid you not.

I watched several minutes of Sarah Palin's speech, but honestly, I had to turn it off. Something about her voice has the effect on me of nails on a chalkboard. Plus I kept watching her hair, trying to figure out what the heck was going on in the back. When I could focus on her speech,
it was mostly tearing down Barack Obama, which I guess is the role the V.P. is supposed to play, but so many of the things she said were untrue that I stopped listening. Oh, she told the following joke - Q. What's the difference between a hockey mom and a pit bull? A. Lipstick. Well, I for one don't want a lipstick-wearing pit bull in charge of my country."


I admittedly did not watch much of the 3 days of mockery, sarcasm, and fear fest thanks to KC, I feel like I was there.


And one last thing, even if you have had enough of Sarah Palin, I urge you to still read this and this. You'll be glad you did. Trust me here.

5:00 Fridays

I'm a bit obsessed with this year's election. Hard to tell, I know. I'm a card carrying Obama Mama and I want nothing more than a blue streak covering CNN's map of North Carolina come November 4. We have a Senate seat open and a heated governor's race this year. Women are running on the Democratic ticket for both races. An exciting time? A resounding yes! My worry is that both camps are running rather lame campaigns. They lack consistent and compelling messaging. There seems to be no positioning or personality. In essence, both candidates lack a brand. What they need is good old fashioned brand strategy. But that's just me the marketer talking.

I present today's drink in hope that my state will soon bleed blue. I don't care what shade, as long as it's blue.

Carolina Blue
1 oz gin (I'd use plain ol' Tanqueray here.)
1 oz Blue Curaçao (have lots left over from last week)
1 fresh lime (I repeat, not the cruddy fake stuff in a plastic lime-shaped bottle!)

You know the routine. Fill a shaker with crushed ice. Squeeze the juice from the whole lime into the shaker. Add the gin and Curaçao and shake well. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass garnished with a twist of lime.

Drink to a new definition of Feeling Blue!

Moderate Schmoderate.

Don't think that I'm not sickened by this image. I almost didn't upload it lest I heave up the Kashi cereal and turkey meatballs I ate today (not at the same meal, mind you).

Look, it's no secret that I'm one of those crrraaazzzyyyy liberals who wants the air to be clean, water to be clear, children to have healthcare, soldiers to come home, and schools to actually have books. But you know what, I spend a lot of time doing my homework. Mac Daddy and I watch three news channels concurrently while we each surf various blogs, news sites, and polls on our laptops. Sometimes we like to go really crazy and quadruple surf on our Blackberries too. News is our porn. Our addiction. Our time sapper. OK, Facebook has become a time sapper of late too.

Granted, I don't do much to learn the other side. That is simply too infuriating. I leave that to Mac Daddy who can withstand AM conservative talk radio without driving over a cliff. Me? I'd slam into the next pick up truck I saw if I listened to that crap. As it is it's all I can do to not flip off the Range Rovers I see driving around these parts with "W. Still the President" stickers. Seriously, who are these people? Have they not taken off their Chanel sunglasses long enough to see the world around them? I suppose they live life with a flippant toss of the hand as they call for the "help" to fetch the kids and fold the laundry.

Nonetheless, we all owe it to ourselves to brush up on our candidate of choice, regardless the race: local, state, national. We spend more time choosing fabric for our living room drapes than we do learning about the candidates' policies. More thought goes into picking summer camps and preschools than who the leader of the free world will be. We stress and moan about where to have our kid's birthday party but pay no regard to who's running for city council.

And what's with this nonsense of women saying, "Oh, I just vote for whom my husband tells me to vote for." Insert flitty dumb giggle here. I hear this load of crap from many women who are educated, professionals, colleagues and moms alike. Women who have advanced degrees in things I cannot pronounce. Women who are younger than I am. This madness must stop. Are they afraid to sound, and BE, smart? Aren't we over this silliness?

If you or anyone you know is considering voting for John McCain, either because you've always been a Republican, your husband told you to, or you think it's a Hillary smack at Obama, read this. You owe it to yourself to at least know what your vote will get you. You owe that to your children and to your fellow citizens. Voting is a right, a responsibility. Don't take it lightly. Surely it warrants more time than toile or cabbage roses in the dining room.

The More Things Change, The More They Stay the Same

This clip is short so check it out.

I understand a lot can change in three years, but McCain's emphatic assertions that he supports Bush all the way seems to be unlikely to have turned a 180. If you listen to his current proposals for boosting the economy, the gas tax, and how to continue the debacle that is Iraq, you'll note that not much has indeed changed in three years time. Seems to me that McBush is running in 08.

Somebody smother that shrub with Round Up.

Moms & Dads for Barack Obama

What I want to do is give our country an Etch-a-Sketch shake. A mulligan. A do-over.

Let's shake things up. Are you listening, North Carolina?!

May 6. This Tuesday. Vote.

I dream in shades of blue.

You know what's important to me? My kids. Their health. Their education. Their future. No shit, you say. Well, what worries me is that these basic, common needs are in jeopardy. Will healthcare be affordable, available, accessible? A medical tragedy puts even the most insured, secure families in financial turmoil. Education costs are reaching heights that are unfathomable. And let's get one thing straight, not going to a brand name college is not an option for Bird and Deal. It's cultural, not snotty. Find me an Indian family that doesn't emphasize education or collegiate cachet, admittedly to the point of kids needing some couch therapy. What will the future look like in America? Immigrant in fighting? Evangelizing in schools? The Big Bang Theory as a rated XXX video title only? Natural resources a distant memory?

As it is, I feel like Bird and Deal are inheriting a load of shit that will stink long after January 20, 2009.

This war must end. You want to see a great show of patriotism? Then bring home our soldiers. My childhood friend's husband is set to go on his second tour of duty in Iraq. He missed his daughter's birth, not to mention most of my friend's pregnancy. He met his daughter well after she could walk and speak. She's five now, and they finally have cemented a lovely father-daughter relationship. He is no longer a stranger to her from whose arms she shirks away. She runs to him. They have not told her that her daddy is leaving in two months and will be home when she's 7.

How many of us think about those little victims? Families and marriages in peril due to the sheer nature of separation. An outrage. An abomination.

Does anyone care about what we are doing to our one and only planet? I'm sick of the idiots who have parasitic ideologies and just take and take and strip and strip the earth of its resources. Who will have an eye on the future? Our legacy and our responsibility go way beyond our physical time on the planet. A neighbor once noted that the planet has been around a long time with no harm done so he doesn't see the point or necessity in all this crazy green talk now. I had to pardon myself so I could smash my fists into the wall and release some fireants onto his bicycle seat.

I have been to Calcutta and experienced air pollution so thick that my snot was as black as my hair. It was as if Chiclet sized clumps of coal were popping out of my nose. It is not what I have in mind for Bird and Deal to breathe. Ditto for the water.

Um, has anyone noticed gas prices these days or do you pay at the pump, crumple the receipt, and just take off as if you weren't just ripped off and violated? I cannot bear to watch the little gallon:price ticker count up. I just spent over $60 to fill up my car today. $60! That's at least 3 pairs of shoes at DSW on clearance. I could probably walk farther in those shoes than that tank of gas will take me.

I could go on about the housing crisis, the hungry, reproductive rights, maternity/paternity leave, FMLA, joblessness, gun control, civil rights, alternative energy, foreign policy, or childcare. But I don't have the energy to end my day feeling defeated. I don't sleep well as it is. Wrapping my brain around such gargantuan issues will be a recipe for restlessness. I am tired. I am angry. You might even say I am teetering on bitter. I am garnering the gumption to turn that into something positive. My kids deserve a positive outlook from me. I owe them at least one place in the world that promises hope, unconditional love, dreaming, faith, and whimsy.

Mac Daddy and I are trying to teach our children about respect, humility, gratitude, grace, selflessness, empathy, and responsibility. We can only teach such values through our actions. Words are like the old Far Side cartoons to the ears of preschoolers...Blah Blah Blah, Bird and Deal, Blah Blah Blah. It is our duty as parents to pass on these values, regardless of the red or blue color that marks our sensibilities. How can we possibly teach our children such important values in a country that demonstrates anything but? When will they be old enough to recognize hypocrisy and selfishness? And how will we combat it?

Canada is too damn cold. Europe is too expensive. India is too far. Plus, I kinda like it here and despite my rants, am proud to call it home. And by the way, I don't own a flag pin. I don't think I'd like to have those pesky little holes poke into my silk or linen suits. I cannot bear four more years of a red administration. I am seeing red but I dream in blue.

Whispers

Lately there's been a gaggle of folks whispering, "So, have you met the new neighbors?" The seemingly innocent conversation starter has a whole host of dynamics attached. Gossip. Disbelief. Judgement. Novelty. Curiosity. I give my neighbor Chuck and Mac Daddy, a lot of credit for the genuine aplomb with which they responded to that very question yesterday. They were like, "Oh sure we met. They seem so fun and cool. We're really looking forward to seeing them once they're settled in." They were being honest, not making a statement, based on their bona fide candor. It's pretty easy to diffuse the situation when the instigator doesn't get the response he expected.

The hushed tones of such questioning are akin to that mother's whispering of unseemly words in St. Elmo's Fire. I find such behavior so irksome. You see, the new neighbors are two women. Who live together. They're not related. One is not the landlord and the other a paying tenant. No one is the caretaker of the other. They're not even roommates. Give up? They're gay for goodness sake. BFD. Not even newsworthy. Yawn. There's certainly juicier gossip than that in the 'hood. Hell, I'm potentially fodder for better grilling meat considering some of the stuff I write on this here very blog.

Are we so far removed from diversity of the population that a gay couple moving in two doors down is all that interesting? I recall a few years back when similar whispering ensued when Republicans moved onto the street. We were flabbergasted. Republicans?! Moving in here? What ghastly horror to invade our progressive little precinct! They'll ruin our voting records! Tell me it's not so! It turns out that more and more are sending moving announcements (on engraved Crane stationery, no doubt) from our zip code, but that's for another day. I'll have plenty to report on that divide once the election heats up. But I digress, as I so often do...

I find it more difficult to explain to Bird and Deal why someone has guns in his home than why two women live together or why one of Bird's buddies has two mommies. In fact, all the kids in class think it's pretty darn cool that this little boy gets to have TWO mommies. To these children, mommy equals love. I might be the only Indian in the world who's bad at math but even I know that this equation balances, no matter who the mommy is. Love, in all its forms, is infinitely easier to explain than violence or danger, or the potential for it, in all its many, gruesome forms. Love makes sense. It is indeed patient and kind.

The face of the American family isn't necessarily changing, it's just that the myriad forms of families are finally marching out from the under the rock we've collectively buried them under. Back in the 80s there was a whole lot of whispering going on among my friends' parents because my mom and dad were divorced. I was the only one whose parents weren't married, and in retrospect, the whispers and pitying looks I got all spelled: Gossip. Disbelief. Judgement. Novelty. Curiosity. To top it off, my brother and I lived with our dad. Not our mother. That's still practically unheard of, so imagine the judgement passed and speculation going on back in the day.

Times are changing folks, and let's keep up! No use staying shackled to closed minded ways that don't provide opportunities to teach our children (and ourselves, for that matter) about the diversity of the world. It's enriching to have the world open up to us verus closing in on us.

Barack My World

Looking for 17 minutes of inspiration? Check out this clip of Obama's victory speech in South Carolina. Now if only my state's primary counted for anything; it's after Super Tuesday. Way after.

The last few minutes are particularly inspiring. Fast forward if you have fewer than 17 minutes to spare.