Thoughts are Nice, But It’s the Gifts That Count

Like many women, I don’t have a birthday. I have a birthweek. Sometimes even a birthmonth.

These are my favorite birthweek presents this year. In no particular order:

--I’ve never seen Cousin Danny get worked up about anything. He probably blew a brain cell when Chicago won the World Series, but even that is hard to imagine. I almost passed out when he sent an email to the entire family that includes this bit of information: “I know my Godmother, Catherine, was still on cloud 9 from the dems big wins on Tuesday so I figured why not help finish off her week on a high note. What did I do to make my godmother so proud? I emailed a Republican Senator from Oklahoma, James Inhofe.”

Inhofe debated an issue on the floor of the Senate regarding his objection to Howard Stern being played for our soldiers over the Armed Services Network.

Then Danny included his actual email – part of which I include here: “As an officer in the US Army and veteran of the current war in Iraq, I was absolutely outraged when I heard of your debate with Mr. Harkin regarding Howard Stern being played on the Armed Forces Network. There are larger issues out there such as how to protect soldiers from IEDs, supplying proper equipment, and building overall morale. I'm sure you are well aware of these issues considering you spent one whole year in the army and recently visited the troops just long enough to get a pathetic picture with them for your website. It's embarrassing that these same soldiers you took pictures with are fighting for our freedoms (speech being one of many) and you are more worried about convincing others that, ‘although Rush might not be for everyone, he's far less offensive than Howard.’”

So many points of pride. So little time. First off, the kid got outraged and then involved. That counts for a hell of a lot. Secondly, he landed on the correct side of an issue. Don't get me wrong - Danny’s family and if he wrote to Congress insisting everyone should take a machine gun to school - I'd support him. That I agree with his point of view is simply icing on the cake. And that he thought it’d make me proud…well…Danny is officially in my will. That’s all there is to say about that.

--Last year, I co-taught Economics with a man who hunts Bambi for fun, owns enough firepower to start his own third-world nation, belongs to the NRA, and loves Wal-Mart more than the smell of dead animals. Somehow we became fast friends. In between lectures on the values of a cut-throat capitalist society and why women should stay at home, barefoot, and pregnant – he allowed me, a few times, to work my magic. I came up with a project that encouraged our seniors to research a current boycott, advertise it, and tell the rest of the class why we should find it important enough to join. The results were amazing. This year I am in a different part of town and nursing some fairly serious “miss you much” wounds. A few days ago, I found out my old partner is continuing the project in my absence.

Happy dance. Happy dance. Happy dance.

I will have that hunting right-winger voting for Jim Davis before it's all over. Guaranteed. Even if I have to go back there and harass him every day to do it.

--Remember Beth? Love her! Seems Husband Mike had a dream about me. Yes, I was floating around his subconscious and yada, yada, yada…he gets attacked and killed by wild dogs. Okay. Take out the death and destruction that follows me everywhere and, in the end, what do you have? A man to whom I am not married is having dreams about me. That he is killed in said dreams is beside the point. Good news no matter the outcome. (I added the plural, dreams, even though it was just once. I’m a positive thinker.)

-- The impossible happened: I got a mid-year transfer to another school. It’s a bit closer to my house and might encourage me to stay in this part of town instead of going back to Beth, the NRA Member and outrageous gas prices that come with the commute.

We shall see…