DFA In Action

Another shout-out for Jim Davis.

DFA is a great way for activists to get informed and involved. After reading about our future governor, "Voice Your Support" and tell the rest of the grassroots community why Jim is the best candidate to lead our state.

Hint: His background, goals, and issues provide several clues. Or you can go with that disarming smile and slight resemblance to Mark Ruffalo...

"What If You Were Single?"

Don't you love "what if" questions?

Recently, H contemplated the importance of religion when choosing a candidate for office. Religion rarely plays a part in my politics. Although, if two progressives were similar in every way, yet one was Jewish, I'd pick the fellow Heeb. Gotta represent and all. But that never happens. Usually I must choose between two Christians and look to other distinguishing characteristics before making a decision. And if I ever came across a Jewish Republican (bite your tongue!) like Jack Abramoff, I'd pick a Baptist Democrat any day of the week and twice on Saturday. Shabbat Shalom that.

What about when looking for a mate?

Favorite friend Beth and I were talking about what life might be like if we suddenly found ourselves single. A fun game married women sometimes play. This is far-fetched because, let's face it, what're the odds my husband ever gets sick of this? However, for the sake of argument, I mentioned that I'd only date Jewish men.

Disclaimer: I'd only date Democrats or liberal Independents as well. Cause life is rough enough. Although I have no pre-requisites for friendships or flirty drinking buddies, I could never get serious about someone who didn't share my traditions and values. Could anyone?

Perhaps people don't expect such sentiments from a liberal. I don't know. I think I have an open mind, if a gentile was willing to explore conversion I wouldn't discriminate. And a neocon looking to cross over? Shut up! I'd make room for some of that. I just don't think people who look for love exclusively within their own tent are off-track.

What if I were single? Well, I think we all know that answer. With the amount of liberal Jews in beautiful downtown Wesley Chapel, chances are I'd be sitting in front of my computer, sipping a tonic, listening to beetles banging themselves into my lit windows - wondering why they're the only creatures looking to get inside.

Valuing the Valiant

David Sommer, of The Tampa Tribune, wrote about Memorial Day services and talked to me about our family's annual tradition. Bruce Hosking took pictures of our family as the boys read names and dates and begged for water. Read the article here. I showed some restraint and kept opinons about nauseating politicians to myself.

Trying to play nice and all.

Questions without Answers

There aren’t many liberal, peace-lovers who attend Memorial Day services. I’ve tried to do my part – appealing to even anti-war activists to acknowledge the sacrifice of fallen soldiers. I tell them the speeches will be about giving thanks, not glorifying war. I mention music and touching tributes. Then my friends make some excuse to catch me later in the day when it becomes acceptable to start drinking again.

Until today, my arguments were spot on. After today, not so much.

At Bay Pines this morning, I fought the urge to hurl. Never before have I witnessed such a nauseating display of right-wing propaganda thinly disguised as patriotism. Representative CW “Bill” Young gave his typical snoozer of a speech until unloading this gem on the audience:

I’m going to ask you a question and I don’t want you to answer right away. I want you to think about it for a while. This is the question: While protecting the American people from terrorism, what will you allow the federal government to do?

I sat surrounded by Billy’s peeps – a pro-military audience that bleeds red, white, and blue. They applauded at all the right moments. Which is why he seemed surprised that no one responded with: “Do whatever you want! Break our laws and take away our rights! We won’t complain! Just save us, please!” However, they didn’t boo or hiss either. I’m the only one in the crowd who replied with a shocked, “Son of a b*tch!” Boy Scouts behind me seemed more irritated with my words than what the Congressman was saying.

I hoped to see a face as outraged as my own, but instead saw mouth breathers too busy trying to stop Junior from eating bugs.

Billy pressed on:

And if we don’t do everything we can to stop them, if terrorists attack us again, how will that make you feel?

I put my hand over my mouth to stop the vomit and looked around again. I don’t think many people in the audience understood the question. Or perhaps their hearing aids weren’t working properly. I’m not sure. Something has to explain the collective blank stare.

It’s not like I expected Representative Young to talk about the evils of our military-industrial complex. Although I’d have given the codger a standing ovation if he had. No, I simply would have preferred to hear about gratitude and an anecdote or two from soldiers who are still fortunate to be alive. Perhaps someone could have expressed hope for an end to warfare in our lifetime or a need to rally behind the families who have lost loved ones in armed conflicts. There were many topics to choose from and Congressman C.W. should have picked one that inspired instead of excusing an administration that wants to take liberties away and conveniently blame the enemy. I've said it before, no one is buying that particular brand of bullsh*t anymore. Not even Junior.

Are You Loved?

If inclined to answer yes, then listen for a moment. Although, in theory, you have a right to do whatever you want with your own body (yes, I am pro-choice across the board) – I would argue that you shouldn’t knowingly do anything that might cause yourself harm. Hell, not even un-knowingly since when did ignorance excuse anything?

There. I said it. Straighten up and take care of yourself. Those who love you are owed at least that much.

Some say self-destructive behavior shows disrespect toward God. An interesting argument and yet, although I’m inclined to agree, I don’t think God’s approval or disapproval should be used exclusively to limit our enjoyment of certain “sins”. These sins have been known to include caffeine, sex, alcohol and several organic compounds that grow right out of the ground. (Big fan.)

Besides, moderation is the key. And while making countless bad choices shows a certain lack of respect for God and yourself, it shows downright contempt for loved ones. You do know better and “I didn’t mean to…” doesn’t cut it anymore.

For the love of everyone, please stop:

- Eating record amounts of dead animals and their poop.
- With the processed food. Just say no to partially hydrogenated oils, trans fats, and high fructose corn syrup. Yes, that means Oreos.
- Watching Fox News.
- Mixing hard drugs. Keep it simple, stupid.
- Making love to pork products.
- Drinking to the point where you’re round-the-clock obnoxious.
- Driving recklessly.
- Smoking. Period.
- Frying everything. It’s gross and contributes to bad funk.
- Voting Republican.
- Sexing it up all over town. STDs are so not hot.
- The spreading of your ass. Turn off American Idol and take a walk.
- Dating McDonald’s, KFC, and Burger King. Enough with making Border runs. Taco Bell is still fast food – that lettuce doesn’t count for sh*t.

In other words - take care of yourself. You owe us that. If you’ve done everything to lead a healthy life, when that death sentence is eventually handed down, you’ll at least know you had nothing to do with it.

And that will matter a whole lot to the people left behind.

A Jeremy Piven Jones

Does anyone own a copy of the first season of Entourage?
Does anyone wanna lend me said copy for a small fee or favor of your choice?

Help a sister out.

Clean Money

Can money in politics kill you? Find out for yourself.

Privately financed campaigns lead to a populace that feels increasingly detached from the business affairs of Washington insiders. Lobbyists and well-connected politicians thrive on the money-power relationship, leaving the rest of us out of the loop and important issues off the radar. Lots of legislators talk about campaign finance reform; however, only complete public financing of elections can bring about needed change and put the focus back where it belongs - with the people.

This voluntary system saves taxpayer money, provides for a level playing field, encourages more minority participation in governing and is already working well in states like Maine and Arizona. These days we are bombarded by stories about corruption involving Tom Delay, Jack Abramoff, Ralph Reed, etc. It's no secret that energy and oil companies, along with so many other businesses, buy their way into policy decisions that don't come close to helping average Americans and are actually ruining our environment.

Once again - we can change all that. Corporations are betting that people will continue to ignore the obvious, but I believe Americans are sick of the influence big business buys and wants to see change sooner rather than later. Join me and let's clean up Congress - once and for all.

Positive Thoughts Please

I love my brother's wife. True, having another liberal vegetarian in the family did tip the scales in our favor. Makes for interesting dinner selection/conversation during get-togethers. (All of a sudden, Dad's outnumbered.) However, there's more to Chelsie than her cruelty-free convictions. Since I don't want to ramble, for a change, let me just say that one of the reasons Chelsie's so great is because she comes from a terrific family. Good stock counts for a lot and they're keepers. Which is why my heart breaks for them. A few weeks ago, Chelsie's brother was killed in a car accident.

Of course, something must be done about elderly drivers. And we will beg those we love to put away their motorcylces and use a car instead. But that doesn't make the hurt go away for a family trying to cope with an unspeakable tragedy. Through her grief, Chelsie was able to put memories and loss into words, appropriately titled "Nightmare".

Say a prayer for my sister-in-law and her family. They could use it.

Update on Net Neutrality

Yesterday, the House Judiciary Committee passed the "Internet Freedom and Nondiscrimination Act". However, our fight is far from over. The full House will take up this bill after they return in June. The Senate is also considering legislation that will not protect Net Neutrality.

What can you do?

According to Free Press, here are some steps to take:

1. If you haven't done so already, sign the SavetheInternet.com petition and send a message to Congress.
2. Check out the latest news on the SavetheInternet.com blog.
3. Learn the facts. Read our new report: Why Consumers Demand Internet Freedom.

Everyone and their mother has a blog now. So get on it.

Democratic Event

My sister once said she feels better just knowing Bill Clinton is out there fighting the good fight. I feel the same way. President Clinton will be remembered as one of the best and most effective Presidents in our nation's history. Can't say the same about Bushy. That's for sure. Just a few years out of office, Bill Clinton has done more to help further causes of hope than any ex-President since Jimmy Carter.

Beats the hell out of jumping from airplanes.

On Monday, June 12th, President Clinton will be in Orlando to speak and raise money for Florida Democrats. To buy tickets for the event, call (850) 222-3411 today or visit www.fladems.com/victoryreception.

Kindergarten Babies No More

This transition was easier to take than last year's pre-k graduation. Still hard, though. I'm not one of those moms who cling to the past; on the contrary, every stage has held enormous joy and the next one eagerly awaited. I just can't believe how fast time flies (worst cliche ever, but true) - seems like just yesterday these two little angels came into my life.



Now they are big boys. Even though they still sometimes say "thinger" instead of "finger", they still insist on being called "boys" instead of "my babies".

This year was full of firsts - PG movies made their debut, training wheels came off, and shoes were successfully tied without Mommy's help. We graduated past Goodnight Moon and made the leap to chapter books like Harry Potter - even though Dr. Suess still rocks. And perhaps the most exciting change for my children: enjoying half-hour cartoons on Saturday and Sunday mornings. Yes, folks, Nickelodeon has replaced PBS for thirty glorious minutes every weekend.

This year started out wacky and rough, but ended with ease. Our boys - such terrific kids.

My oldest is a charmer, kind and considerate. Smart and eager to learn, he leaps ahead in school and then helps other classmates catch up. He loves making people laugh and would play baseball in the backyard all afternoon if I let him. His favorite activity is swimming at Nana and Grandpa's house with sleepovers afterward where he runs the show. I love his frequent hugs and kisses.

My youngest is too cute for words - quite bossy at times but sweet and affectionate, too. He's a natural leader and athlete, intelligent and kind. A terrific combination. When he split open his chin last week and needed six stitches, he ran to me without tears and said, "Mommy, I look like Martin St. Louis!" This kid questions everything and enjoys "teaching" his friends at school all the exciting things he's learned. I love how he lists every kid in class when I ask about his best friend - and number one is always his brother.




They are alike, yet different in so many ways. My first-graders...

Attention: Baseball Fans

I've never really liked baseball. Adore the Red Sox, mostly because I adore the town, but even in our beloved Fenway I only lasted a quarter or two before heading home. Or was it a period? Inning?

Then my two boys took a liking to sports. These budding athletes enjoy baseball games and, since I love them, I've learned to enjoy sitting on my ass for hours while they rile up the crowd with "Let's go Devil Rays!"

Beer helps.

We always eat a meal before heading to the stadium because healthy food isn't available at such venues. The boys have never had cotton candy, hot dogs, or burgers. (I know. Worst mom ever.) They aren't missing anything, except hardened arteries, and get excited over treats like warm pretzels and ice-cold lemonade. Sometimes I get a craving for veggie hot dogs, especially when I see people devouring the real thing. However, I didn't know what to do about it.

Until now! This website is available so baseball-lovin' veggies can petition stadiums to start serving cruelty-free menu items!

Several venues already started serving veggie dogs - a few sold out during opening games and had to rush order more cases the very first week. Please help us get the word out and encourage these businesses to provide healthy alternatives. My kids deserve the whole not-so-hot dog/baseball experience. And so do yours.

H/T to Kleo.

A Reason for the Season

It's not that I think sitting at home and listening to radio stations play every Eighties tune from A-Z is a colossal waste of time. To each his own. I just believe that American soldiers who died, and for whom Memorial Day is dedicated, deserve appreciation for their ultimate sacrifice.

This is one of several times throughout the year when I sound like a broken record. Call it my own personal "Better Than Sleeping In Late" rally for the masses to acknowledge reasons these holidays exist in the first place. If anything, days off can be used as an excuse to give back to your community and make the world a better place. Later, drink your beer and grill dead animals with a clean conscience.

Since my children's first Memorial Day, we've attended ceremonies at Bay Pines National Cemetary in St. Petersburg. After 9/11, attendance went up and the participation is heartening. Community leaders and veterans make stirring speeches and military bands play music that will leave you in tears. Plenty of shade exists for children to run and play and I recommend taking time afterward to walk among the graves and whisper "thank you" to the ghosts among us, no doubt happy to see not everyone has forgotten them.

Are you proud to be an American? Prove it.

See you there.

Help Needed - STAT

Becky is a nurse. Well, she's many other things as well - lifelong friend, confidante, catalog shopper and sex kitten. Because her husband has more money than God, Becky can afford to work in white only two days out of each month. Three, tops. Still, she eventually comes down the mountain to wipe the ass of a cancer patient and I applaud her. My girl - keepin' it real.

Beck has spent the better part of over two decades applauding my every decision, even bad ones, and has never really asked for anything in return until now. (I don't count hexes on exes.) So how could I refuse? Especially since she's been cooking dinner for my husband every night for the past two and a half months. And I use the term "cooking" loosely...

This is the favor - rally my readers behind HR 676. What is HR 676? Glad you asked: this bill would create affordable health care for all Americans. In addition, universal healthcare would stop the ever-rising costs, stop insurance companies from denying treatments and stop them from telling doctors what can and cannot be done. People of all socio-economic groups would be able to afford doctor's visits and millions of children wouldn't have to suffer or die waiting for treatment. At last - something real pro-lifers can get behind.

Wanna know what's wrong with education? Talk to teachers or listen to me. Wanna fix healthcare? Talk to nurses and other healthcare professionals. They are the ones in the trenches and even though our current administration frowns upon expert opinion, the rest of us still value it. Right?

I give Becky a hard time. I kid because I love. She has been a nurse for years, caring for sick patients and counseling family members, before finally marrying up. And she continues to give time and effort so that suffering across the board is alleviated.

Get behind Becky and all our heroes in healthcare. Contact your representatives and tell them you support universal healthcare.

Signs that Teachers, too, Are Ready for Summer Break

Thursday is the last day of school and no one is happier than educators. Teachers need a breather just like the kids. How can you tell?

We:

- start talking like our students, referring to each other as dawgs, text messaging "Sup?" and professing a profound desire to tap that ass.

- come dangerously close to throwing dry erase markers and saying, "Only an idiot would ask that question."

- look forward to staying home for two months with our own children.

- come to believe Jay-Z is as important as Mozart.

- answer requests from adults with, "I don't know. Can you?"

- ran out of sick days three months ago.

- believe field trips to Disney World comply with Sunshine State Standards.

- giggle inappropriately at faculty meetings when the principal says "duty".

- rummage through garbage cans, overflowing with discarded trash, for next year's classroom supplies.

- enter the Teacher's Lounge looking for grown-up conversation.

- pick a fight with the AP hoping to get suspended.

- take a chance on cafeteria food because "what the hell?"

- pack up our rooms before Spring Break starts.

- refuse T-Payroll due to emotional issues.

- convince department head that Monty Python movies really do fit the curriculum.

- start asking students for financial advice.

- create MySpace page for summer under pseudonym "Party Whore".

Feel free to add your own.

Any Port in a Storm

I sent an email to Catholic friends and family:

Hi there,

Would you do your favorite Jewish family a solid and pray to St. Joseph that our house sells? We are trying to join Husband in Colorado Springs next month, but we need to sell our house first. So PLEASE put in a good word for us. And uh…while you’re at it…you could also pray for our eternal souls. My mom would sure appreciate that.

Interesting responses. From an old friend:

I do try to limit my requests to health related prayers, you know...'keep me from ever getting a call from the hospital and hearing "Are you the mother of .....' or, asking that I don't mess up my kids so much that they end up wearing all black and overdosing at 13....that type of prayer. Oh yeah, an occasional, 'give me strength not to pack my bags and move home and forget about this ridiculous life I've set up for myself.'
I'm thinking that I'll phrase it so that you can be together with your hubby? That may push through and keep me in his good graces at the same time. Good luck!

From my cousin:

I think you were suposta bury him in your backyard or some other horse sh*t.

From my brother:

I can't support this at all. Tell you what, hit confession tonight. Tell the priest you're sorry for the past thirteen years and ask him to bless that sh*t. Otherwise you're staying in Tampa and eventually going to hell. Think about it.

Several family members said they'd do a shout-out and so, like good Jews, my kids and I went to a Christian bookstore and bought a St. Joseph Kit. The assault on my conscience and liberal sensibilities hit me the moment I walked in the door. Surrounded by books such as Public Education Against America while the intercom glorified "Life Music", I immediately broke out in hives.

I requested help from my Catholic friend and neighbor who said she'd bury the statue for me. When this works, I'm down with setting up St. Joe in our next house. As long as I don't have to erect candles and a kneeling bench. However, before we could bury it, the unthinkable happened. While cleaning, I knocked over the good saint and watched in horror as he hit the kitchen floor - body went one way, head another.

What the f*ck kind of omen is that?

I'm gonna superglue Brother Man back together, however I can't help but wonder: Am I doomed? Was this a sign that my brother is right? Again?

Lazy Ramadi

Catch up with the rest of the class first. Then watch the Middle East's long-awaited response to SNL's Lazy Sunday. Enjoy yourself.

H/T to Matt.

Hardy Har Har

The funniest people in the world are those who, as a collective unit, have suffered the most. Which is why most of our laughs come from writers-performers who are black, Jewish, or Irish.

WASPy men? Funny lookin'. WASPy women? Please - after the sex gets old, so does sticking around for their less-than-average conversational skills. This theory also extends to political points of view. Come on, be honest. With whom would you rather roll around and trade grosser-than-gross jokes - liberals or conservatives? Republican rulers not only make bad lovers - they're a bore as well.

Fun to make fun of, but that's about it.

Out of the Frying Pan

I enjoy city living. Big fan. However, while raising our children, we felt it important to raise them around a loving support system.

Yes, we miss culture. We miss free thought. We miss people who read outside the bathroom. Yet our boys are thriving and that's more important. Besides, happiness is self-bestowed. I could be happy anywhere - even in places without cable.

I really could.

We are a little over a month away from uprooting our family and heading west to Colorado Springs. I'm getting more excited and less grumpy as moving day approaches. We've got sisters and best friends out there so a support system is still possible.

And apparently some freaks reside in The Springs as well. So at least we'll feel at home.

This particular article scared the Be-Geezus out of me. I knew about Focus on the Family. Heard of Young Life. Had no idea though that my future neck-of-the-woods is also "home to the greatest concentration of fundamentalist Christian activist groups in American history". I get along with fundies - they find me fetching and ripe for conversion. By the time they realize I'm a lost cause, I've won them over with a combination of spunk and annoying-yet-adorable charm. In other words, they continue to pray for me and occasionally we share a beer.

Still. I'm afraid these new neighbors will be different from the holyrollers I'm used to -

In Pastor Ted’s book "Dog Training, Fly Fishing, & Sharing Christ in the 21st Century", he describes the church he thinks good Christians want. “I want my finances in order, my kids trained, and my wife to love life. I want good friends who are a delight and who provide protection for my family and me should life become difficult someday . . . I don’t want surprises, scandals, or secrets . . . I want stability and, at the same time, steady, forward movement. I want the church to help me live life well, not exhaust me with endless ‘worthwhile’ projects.” By “worthwhile projects” Ted means building funds and soup kitchens alike. It’s not that he opposes these; it’s just that he is sick of hearing about them and believes that other Christians are, too. He knows that for Christianity to prosper in the free market, it needs more than “moral values”—it needs customer value.

I'm sure poor Christians who depend on soup kitchens would beg to differ with him. A "Man of God" and his flock are sick of hearing about the poor and unfortunate among us? A group of evangelicals have come to see Colorado Springs as a modern-day holy city?

As my kids used to say, "I'm ascared."

The Poor Little Fishies

This Friday, May 19th, is the Pasco County Democratic Party Fish Fry. (I know. "You can say that again.")

All two of them will be at the Jasmine Lakes Civic Center in Port Richey where doors open at 6:30pm. So what if the bugs are as big as a Buick? A great time will be had by all! If you've never been north of Paradise Lakes and are afraid rednecks will pounce your hybrid and beat you senseless, click here for specific directions. See? There are signs of life in the deep south. Who knew?

Don't be a douche. Buy tickets and support your local politicians.

"I Went Nowhere There for a While"

Funny. This is how I respond when contemplating four more years of a Republican-controlled Congress.

Kiddie Muzak

This year, for Chanukah (or, as my mother refers to it, The Holidays), my parents got the boys a stereo for their room. Several family members sent CDs for their listening pleasure. Key word is “their” as several selections make “my” ears bleed.

One that’s got to go is the soundtrack for Sky High. Even my hottie painter a few weeks back stopped mid-stroke, cocked his head and asked,

“What the hell is that?”

I told him that was an experiment where producers took terrific songs we grew up with and made them lame. How lame? You decide.

And She Was

Everybody Wants to Rule the World

One Thing Leads to Another

Lies

Voices Carry

True

and worst of all...

I Melt With You

Avert Your Eyes

One of my favorite people is pregnant and oh, so excited. Her first baby, belly just starting to grow - the best of times! I don't want to stomp on her buzz, but someone has to prepare this woman for the ultimate in horror shows.

Because what starts out quite lovely...




Turns ugly real f*cking quick...

Take My House - Please

Our humble abode has been on the market for over three weeks now and we’ve only had one family walk through and give feedback. The woman’s exact words:

“That purple guest room alone is enough to push me over the edge. Who sleeps in there? Barney?”

I like my funky flavors. Husband thinks they induce acid flashbacks, but even he has come to love our colorful home. Colors or no colors, as the real estate market slows to a snail’s pace, how do we get people in the door? At this point I’m open to any and all suggestions. My sister told me about an interesting tradition. Breaks down like this:

Bury a statue of St. Joseph in the yard. (St. Joseph was Jesus' earthly father - for heretics in the audience - and always had to uproot his family to escape harm. Apparently Brother knows a thing or two about relocation issues.) Some say he is to be buried upside down and three feet from the house. Others say to bury him near the “For Sale” sign. According to several relatives, this practice works like a…charm.

Hard-core Catholics (read: my mother) insist this isn't magic or superstition, but belief. St. Joseph intervenes after thoughtful prayer and devotion. Catholic groups that sell St. Joseph Kits some as low as $5.95)warn against secular agents touting the practice as good luck. I don't think Jews are allowed to pray to anyone but God. However, if it's more like conversation, where's the harm in that? In other words, can we talk?

More than a few testimonials and newspaper articles have publicized success stories.

Would St. Joseph, who was a Jew after all, see fit to help a Sister out? Perhaps I can get a Catholic relative to do me a solid. Husband suggested my mom, but she doesn't want us to leave and might reverse the curse. Maybe someone else out there would vouch for me and get this thing rolling.

Come on, I'd put in a good word to Moses if you asked nicely.

God Bless Estee Lauder

I love this card for many reasons. First of all, my oldest made it himself. That counts for a lot. He gave me a big, pink belly and yet I still look fetching. Quite an artist. Neither of us has feet and I don't even have arms or hands, yet we are so happy.

Favorite part: My mother is pretty when she...

- smiles?
- watches the Red Sox kick some ass?
- wakes up in the morning?
- gazes at me with love in her eyes?
- contemplates a Democrat taking back the White House?

No: My mother is pretty when she...puts make-up on.




If I answered this for my own mother:

My mother loves me because - I am a delight.
I love my mother because - I can't afford to pay her what she's worth and my love is the least I could do.
My mother cooks the best - Eggplant Parmesan, hands down.
My mother is pretty when she - laughs, which is practically all the time.
My mother and I have fun - when we are together, which is practically all the time.
If I could give my mother something special just from me it would be - grandchildren to love, an assache, complete and utter joy.

Check, check, and check.

Dog-Eared Poetry

A million thanks go out to the woman who has put up with this look for thirty-six years.




She rocked, changed diapers, and rolled her eyes - cried, praised, and threw up hands in despair - encouraged, empowered, and counseled to no avail. A few times, she even administered an enema. This past week alone, she babysat her grandsons without a single complaint. Claimed she actually enjoyed it.

Last night, she endured The Big Lebowski and laughed despite herself. This morning she helped two little boys fix me breakfast in bed. Happy Mother's Day, Mom. You are everything I hope to be and more.

Except I'd like to avoid the enemas.

More Campaign Help Needed

You're probably thinking, "Why does Bill Nelson need help? Katherine Harris can't possibly win!" Harris is insane, but many neocons would rather rally behind a whack-job than support a Senator who truly has Florida's best interests at heart.

Got this request earlier today:

Senator Bill Nelson is looking for volunteers in Pasco County. (In my book, he deserves all our attention on his environmental voting record alone!) If you'd like to help out, please contact his office manager directly since there is no time to waste. The contact information is:

Robert Luke Office Manager
Bill Nelson for U.S. Senate
1011 East Colonial Drive, Suite 201
Orlando, FL 32803
407-895-2006
407-896-3219

Hillsborough County activists should get involved as well. Call or go directly to his site. And, as always, thanks for the part you play.

True Story

Posted this on a friend's site recently and thought I'd share here, too.

One afternoon, I arrived at school to pick up my children. Teacher told me, with an exaggerated sad face only preschool teachers get away with, that my youngest used "hate" when describing his feelings for a classmate. The kid in question was a bully who had it coming to him, but I knew that wasn't the proper "Mommy of the Year" response. I took Teacher's cue and knelt down for an eye-to-eye chat with my child. I told him with a straight face that we don't hate anyone and hoped he would play along.

No such luck.

"We hate Republicans and the Yankees," he said.

So embarrassing.

"We don't hate Republicans," I said, looking up at Teacher with an aren't kids crazy look she wasn't buying. "Grandpa's a Republican and we love him."

Dramatic pause. My child looked at me and I could hide the truth no longer. I sighed and gave up the ghost.

"But, you're right about the Yankees," I said. "We do hate them."

Listen to Me, Medical People

My last hospital experience was January, 2000, while giving birth to twin boys. Husband visited daily armed with cannolis from North End bakeries. He’d pass my room, go directly to the nurses’ station, hand my caretakers the treats and say, with enormous sympathy, “I’m sorry.”

I wasn’t that bad, not really, but cannolis from Mike’s Pastry did guarantee attention from the good folks at MGH. Yesterday, nurses at St. Joe’s weren’t so well-rewarded. Husband is in Colorado Springs and I don’t believe in dessert. This is my story.

Attendants wheeled me into the operating room three and a half hours late. In all fairness, they gave me Outback gift certificates to cushion the blow. That’s Outback Steakhouse, so I’m looking forward to eating a baked potato and salad while everyone around me devours dead animals.

Loopy from “relaxing medicine”, I fantasized out loud about veggie cheeseburgers and onion rings.

“Been fasting since midnight last night,” I said to no one in particular. “So I’m covered when Yom Kippur rolls around, right? A day of fasting is a day of fasting, am I right?”

No one replied.

“Great customer service,” I mumbled before passing out.

Afterwards, I didn’t want to wake up. My mom almost called the priest, conveniently on standby (she can’t help herself), but I finally opened my eyes and immediately glared at the attendant.

“Too much anesthesia,” I said. “Now I’m all groggy and sh*t. I told you this would happen.”

They tried to explain and I actually said,

“Blah, blah, blah. That’s all I hear.”

After a while, Nurse sat me up and allowed my mother to come back into the recovery area. Thought maybe she could calm me down. After shift change, another nurse arrived and, right hand to God, two employees gave her the sign of the cross. Didn’t bother me, though. Whatever works.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

"I’m pissed off,” I told her. “I don’t like feeling this way.”

“Because you’re in pain?”

“No, because I can’t think or form coherent sentences. And I don’t always look like this. Normally I’m a barrel of laughs.”

Mom felt the need to explain “control issues” and assured her the rest of our family was good people.

“How about some pain medication?” Nurse asked.

“No thanks,” I said. “I’ll meditate, it’s not that bad. I’ve had twins, you know. Give it to my poor mother. After a night with me, she'll need it.”

“You’ve had two hernias repaired; perhaps you should take it with you.”

“Percocet fogs the brain and turns poop to concrete. Thanks though.”

Wait a minute. Two hernias?

“I thought it was only one,” I said.

“The doctor found another in there.”

Sounded like the conversation with my obstetrician over six years ago regarding an extra fetus floating around inside me. Must my body double everything?

“Here’s your Sprite,” she said. “Sip slowly.”

I took a sip and sighed.

“This isn’t Sprite.”

“Shasta.”

“Vendor?”

Nurse nodded.

“You’re probably their only customer. Cause. They. Suck.”

“At any rate, once you pass gas through your rectum you can move on to solid foods,” the nurse said, slipping the pain prescription to my mother.

“Wow, Mom,” I said. “The next few hours should be a treat.”

Eventually I felt better and stopped with all the negativity. The attendants and I even made jokes about my bare ass. It’s perfect. I’m sure the nurses were sad to see me go. I told them I’d be back in a year for my plastic surgery procedures.

Armed with cannolis of course. Mike’s Pastry delivers now, don’t you know?

More Good News for Teachers

Got this from the Davis campaign today:

Specifically, under my plan, every Florida teacher will see an average increase of $3,835, including benefits, in their yearly salary. I’ll pay for my $691 million plan by redirecting money from Gov. Bush’s failed education experiments, notably his FCAT-based so-called “reward” programs, and combine it with funding from my already proposed Teacher Endowment Fund and new revenue from slot machines. In other words, my nearly $700 million plan will increase teacher pay by an average of almost $4,000 per year – without increasing taxes.

Finally, a governor who would support and value teachers. 'Bout time. Learn more here.

Chopping Down Your Trees

Are you one of the hundreds of thousands of Floridians who had their property and liberty violated by Charles Bronson’s incompetent war on canker?

If so, looky here. Apparently Eric Copeland isn't afraid to fight. I received this press release yesterday:

Tallahassee – Today Eric Copeland, Democratic candidate for Florida Commissioner of Agriculture and Consumer Services, opened a new offensive in his campaign to unseat Republican incumbent Charles Bronson by filing a public records request with the Florida Department of Agriculture for the names, addresses and contact information of the estimated 600,000 Floridians who had citrus trees removed from their private property under Florida’s defunct Citrus Canker Eradication Program (CCEP).

“Hundreds of thousands of Floridians had their property and liberty violated by Charles Bronson’s incompetent war on canker,” Copeland said.

As of January, 2006, Department of Citrus records show that 860,000 trees have been removed from private, residential property and more than 12.5 million trees have been destroyed overall. Also in January, 2006, the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) effectively cancelled the Florida CCEP saying eradication of canker was impossible.

“To say Commissioner Bronson’s search and destroy mission on canker was a failure gives a bad name to failure,” Copeland said. “It was a grotesque failure and an expensive and dangerous display of incompetence. And Bronson needs to be called to account for it.”

As a result of the USDA decision, Commissioner Bronson’s removal and destruction of more than 860,000 private citrus trees was pointless. Even so, Bronson’s CCEP has already cost state and federal taxpayers more than $1 billion and exposed the state to potentially a billion more dollars in legal liability over seizure of private property.

“I hear from people every day who were run over by this process and they are furious,” Copeland said. “They want real leadership that will fight for them in Tallahassee and I intend to contact them and let them know someone in this race is on their side.”

Despite a staggering cost and untold liability, the Florida CCEP has never been audited. Earlier this year, Copeland called on legislators to audit the failed program. Despite the request, the Legislature took no action to investigate the program, it’s funding or safeguard taxpayers from a similar boondoggle in the future.

“Every scientist who has looked at canker agrees it does not kill trees, damage fruit or harm people,” Copeland said. “But Bronson decided to put program that was designed to fail ahead of the private property rights of Floridians and rights of taxpayers.”

Copeland is a lawyer and taxpayer advocate from Coral Gables who is unopposed for the Democratic nomination and will face Commissioner Bronson in November.

Get Used To It

I was combing children’s hair yesterday, when my oldest asked,

“Would you marry Daddy again?”

One million ways – at least – to answer that question, but I know my audience. They wanna hear one word. So I gave it to them.

“Yes,” I said.

Out of nowhere, my youngest does this uncanny impersonation of an *sshole.

“Boys and girls can get married, but boys can’t marry boys and girls can’t marry girls.”

“Says who?” I asked.

“Grandpa.”

Okay, I made up that last part. When I asked for names, the kid just shrugged his shoulders. He may be a bigot, but he ain’t no dummy.

“Well,” I said, “that’s not true. Some boys marry boys and some girls marry girls.”

“That’s kinda weird.”

Both children said this in unison, little noses wrinkled in confusion. I then named my own names – relatives who are here and queer. Eyebrows raised, a few questions about “gay people” and then my youngest repeated himself.

“So weird!”

That’s it, I decided, no more NASCAR. In his defense, though, the tone of voice was more fascination than anything else.

“That’s the way God made them,” I said.

Both kids nodded and we were off to school. I discovered the results of this latest study in the paper and wondered if Current Event assignments were out of a kindergartner’s league.

Still. Makes for interesting table talk during dinner. And proves once again that Mommy is always right.

Look at the bright side - no Anthrax. Yet.

Haters usually reach me through email or posting comments. Today I received an old school nasty gram. Check it -




The US Postal Service kindly delivered this gem to my mailbox at school. Any handwriting analysts out there want to develop the sender's profile?

No signature. No return address. Soak up the love.

Boo-Boo Tummy Part II

I'm going under the knife tomorrow and must rest on my laurels for a few more days after that. What will I do? Perhaps sign petitions, read Sweet and Low and watch The Big Lebowski until my insides fall out again.

I have Almost Famous and Fiddler on the Roof if I get really bored. Gotta do something to keep myself out of trouble.

The hospital wants a copy of my living will and advanced directives. Luckily I'm a control freak and wrote it all up years ago - I think I even have a copy of my eulogy somewhere. Still, the hospital wants it for a simple hernia repair? So not a good sign.

Am I allowed tequila the night before surgery? Drink enough and maybe they won't even have to put me out.

Can't wait. Really.

Saturday Night Non Sequiturs

Men don't normally call me on Saturday nights. They don't normally call me period. That's why this past weekend was such a treat.

"Hello?"

"Catherine Robinson please."

Heart skipped a beat. Dude sounded like Walter Matthau. Do I owe someone money?

"Speaking."

"The same Robinson who wrote about Jews and immigrants for The Tampa Tribune?"

This can't be good. I mentally located weapons, set the house alarm and took a deep breath.

"Yes..."

"Good evening, young lady! I'm seventy-nine year old Fred Babus of the Eastern Parkway Babuses. How are you tonight?"

After resuming normal breathing patterns, I had one hell of an all-over-the-map conversation with Mr. Fred Babus. He started off talking about his hometown, Brooklyn, and how vividly he remembers the day Israel became a country.

"I looked out my bedroom window and people were everywhere - laughing, singing, drinking, and celebrating. Men and women dancing together with the Orthodox and rest of us. Everyone was happy. So proud."

Mr. Babus was what my Aunt Irene called a marathon talker. My favorite. And he pegged me right away.

"You born Jewish?" he asked.

I admitted to being a convert. Fred said when he heard about Elizabeth Taylor and Sammy Davis, Jr. joining Judaism, he thought, "We don't have enough problems?" But he said I sounded okay.

Fred Babus didn't think his upbringing was so unusual. He figured everyone was Jewish until high school when a red-haired Irish boy called him "Christ-killer". He went home and asked his Mom because he'd never heard the term before. Then he went back to school the next day and punched the kid in the face. No one ever called him that again.

After high school, Fred would cruise Ocean Parkway looking for rich girls. He'd take them to Coney Island for a frankfurter, fries and soda. ("The whole meal cost twenty-five cents. Went back last year and it's over five dollars!") When I told him I'd never been to Nathan's, he made me promise to go there the next time I was in town. I didn't have the heart to tell him about my vegetarian issues.

Fred had more stories and I encouraged him to talk. My boys were watching The Neverending Story and I could avoid the lame fairy tale by talking to a grown-up. Heaven! Mr. Babus told me about seeing Jackie Robinson hit his first homerun. A favorite Uncle had leaned over and whispered, "He's gonna be great."

"Nothing beats New York in the 50s," Mr. Babus continued. "Broadway was Broadway back then. My favorite was Guys and Dolls. Ever see the movie with Frank Sinatra? Horribly miscast. Bob Alda was the man to see. Best show ever."

Fred even talked about The Grand Street Boys and how he learned politics from relatives just off the boat.

"Most Jews are socialists," he said. "That's okay and let me tell you why - it's a great philosophy. Uncle Wolfie used to say: Why should that guy have 5 billion when that other guy doesn't even own a home?"

Eventually Fred left Brooklyn for Long Island and raised his family there. Later, he and his second (or was it third?) wife moved to Chattanooga, Tennessee where he joined a Reform synagogue and the area "wasn't as scary as you might think". He even knew people involved in the Paperclips project.

"I met a lot of nice folks down there," he said.

Three years ago, Mr. Babus moved to Florida and when he opened the paper and saw my article, he just had to look me up in the phone book.

"Thought you might appreciate some old stories from an old man," he said.

When my children made noise in the background, he asked about them.

"Two boys!" he said. "Good for you. Can I please tell you something, sweetheart, and then I'll let you enjoy the rest of your evening? Raising sons, I know a thing or two about that, and what I'm going to tell you is very important. Are you listening?"

"I am."

"Let them get their faces dirty. That's all I'm gonna say. Turn off the television, computer, make them go outside and let them get their faces dirty. Okay?"

"Yes, sir," I said, smiling.

"And thank you for calling me sir. Now run along and have a good night."

Beat that.

Okay, I've got some good news and some bad news...

My friend Beth lent me her husband yesterday. Bet you’re thinking, Where can I get a friend like that? Mike came over to fix my closet door. Figured it would take a good hour to complete the job, but he was done in less than ten minutes.

“What else ya got?” he asked.

I led him to a toilet that wouldn’t stop running. Five minutes later, he walked into the living room and said,

“Fixed. What else ya got?”

Beth beamed, I smiled. Quite a man.

“That’s it. Wanna peanut butter and jelly sandwich?” I asked.

“That’s it?” he repeated.

Beth and I shrugged our shoulders. That’s it.

“What are you going to have the naked handyman do?”

Oh, that… I pointed Mike in the direction of the last remaining ‘job’. A tough one. Back when my kids were toddlers, I used a little gate to keep them in their bedroom during nap time. One afternoon, they destroyed their gate and my door frame in a quest for freedom. Door frame is still a mess.

“I think this calls for a professional,” I said.

“Nonsense.”

Mike fixed the frame in less than an hour. Upside: saved me $130.00. Downside: naked handyman is no longer needed. I really wanted a naked handyman in my house so I could…write about it. Beth and I tried to convince Mike to at least take off his shirt.

No such luck.

It was a Boston Red Sox shirt, so that’s almost as good as being naked. Almost.

Repeat Post

This is an oldie but goodie, for all the fans of No Child Left Behind legislation. Whether you're a teacher or the friend of one, I hope you'll appreciate the analogy. Thanks to Beth(ie) for reminding me!

No Dentist Left Behind

My dentist is great! He sends me reminders so I don't forget checkups. He uses the latest techniques based on research. He never hurts me, and I've got all my teeth. When I ran into him the other day, I was eager to see if he'd heard about the new state program. I knew he'd think it was great.

"Did you hear about the new state program to measure effectiveness of
dentists with their young patients?" I said.

"No," he said. He didn't seem too thrilled. "How will they do that?"

"It's quite simple," I said. "They will count the number of cavities each patient has at age 10, 14, and 18 and average that to determine a dentist's rating. Dentists will be rated as excellent, good, average, below average, and unsatisfactory. That way parents will know which are the best dentists. The plan will also encourage the less effective dentists to get better," I said. "Dentists who don't improve could lose their licenses."

"That's terrible," he said.

"Don't you think we should try to improve children's dental health in this state?"

"Sure I do," he said, "but that's not a fair way to determine who is practicing good dentistry."

"Why not?" I said.

"Don't you see that dentists don't all work with the same clientele, and that much depends on things we can't control? For example, I work in a rural area with a high percentage of patients from deprived homes, while some of my colleagues work in upper middle-class neighborhoods. Many of the parents I work with don't bring their children to see me until there is some kind of problem, and I don't get to do much preventive work. Also many of the parents I serve let their kids eat way too much candy from an early age, unlike more educated parents who understand the relationship between sugar and decay.

To top it all off, so many of my clients have well water, which is untreated and has no fluoride in it. Do you have any idea how much difference early use of fluoride can make?"

"It sounds like you're making excuses," I said. "You needn't fear accountability."

"My best patients are as good as anyone's, my work is as good as anyone's, but my average cavity count is going to be higher than a lot of other dentists because I chose to work where I am needed most. In a system like this, I will end up being rated average, below average, or worse. The few educated patients I have who see these ratings may believe this so-called rating is an actual measure of my ability and proficiency as a dentist. They may leave me, and I'll be left with only the most needy patients. And my cavity average score will get even worse. On top of that, how will I attract good dental hygienists and other excellent dentists to my practice if it is labeled below average?"

"'Complaining, excuse-making and stonewalling won't improve dental health'...I am quoting from a leading member of the DOC," I noted.

"What's the DOC?" he asked.

"It's the Dental Oversight Committee," I said, "a group made up of mostly lay persons to make sure dentistry in this state gets improved."

"Reasonable people won't buy it," he said hopefully.

The program sounded reasonable to me, so I asked, "How else would you measure good dentistry?"

"Come watch me work," he said. "Observe my processes."

"That's too complicated, expensive and time-consuming," I said. "Cavities are the bottom line, and you can't argue with the bottom line. It's an absolute measure."

"That's what I'm afraid my parents and prospective patients will think. This can't be happening."

"Don't despair. The state will help you some."

"How?" he asked.

"If you receive a poor rating, they'll send a dentist who is rated excellent to help straighten you out," I said brightly.

"They'll send a dentist with a wealthy clientele to show me how to work on severe juvenile dental problems with which I have probably had much more experience? BIG HELP!"

"There you go again," I said. "You aren't acting professionally at all."

"Doing this would be like grading schools and teachers on an average score made on a test of children's progress with no regard to influences outside the school, the home, the community served and stuff like that. Why would they do something so unfair to dentists? No one would ever think of doing that to schools."

I just shook my head sadly, but he had brightened. "I'm going to write my representatives and senators," he said. "I'll use the school analogy. Surely they will see my point."

Opinions. Printed Occasionally.

My observations regarding immigration got printed today in the editorial section of The Tampa Tribune along with my picture where I appear way too happy.

I will link to it later when the editorial becomes available. If you're local - look for it!

UPDATE: Here is the link to my op-ed piece. Mr. C found it because he l-l-l-loves me.

Getting to Know You, Getting to Know All About You

Sometimes when friends share a cozy, fifteen thousand square foot house, crazy sh*t happens.

Back Story: Husband is in Colorado Springs running the business-end of a company owned by my best friend's husband. Got that? He also lives in their basement, but this "basement" is the size of three small homes, so don't feel sorry for him.

One weekend while Becky (the aforementioned best friend - pay attention) and Her Man were out of town skiing, sipping wine, and laughing at the unfortunate, Husband toured some homes for sale. I mentioned it might be nice if he took digital pictures of houses he liked so I could see them, too. Ahh, modern technology. Since I have our digital camera...

"Do you know where the Camera Closet is?" I asked. "It's somewhere in the South Wing. Just grab one and send some pics to me tonight. So exciting!"

He called a few hours later.

"Can you keep a secret?"

"Not really," I said. "Talk to me."

"I grabbed a camera like you suggested, but the disc was full. So I downloaded everything into a folder on their computer. I figured it was pictures of Africa. I took a look, expecting to see an elephant or something. Well, it was so not an elephant. Jeez, Kate, the pictures...the horror...All of a sudden, I'm nine and busted for looking at my older brother's Playboy magazines."

"Okay," I said after spitting water and laughing so hard my hernia grew, "just put the camera back."

"You know what I found?"

"Beck and I have been friends for over twenty-three years. Yeah. I know what you found."

"This is so embarrassing," he said.

"For who? Becky's beautiful; she won't care. At least it's you - a person she's known almost two decades. Could be worse. Just put the camera back in the closet."

"I can't. The disc is empty and all the pictures are in their computer."

"Wow, then you'll have to tell her. Look at the upside. I'll be able to tease you all about this for the rest of our lives."

"Great. I didn't look at the pictures once I realized what the hell I was looking at. I just hope she believes me."

A few days later, Husband told Becky and Her Man the whole uncomfortable story and they had a good laugh over it. I am thrilled to tell the rest of the planet. Without exception, everyone who knows him believes my husband did, in fact, refrain from looking through the pics. What does that tell you about the man I married? I know. So disappointing.

"If ever there was a guy who wouldn't look at them, besides my brother, it'd be you," I told him afterwards. "Come on, though, really? You didn't just take a quick peek?"

"I'm not you."

At first I was insulted.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Please, woman, you love a train wreck. You'd be front and center, eating popcorn, relishing in the awkwardness, going through each one - uploading onto your site - and saying, 'I'm so blogging this.' "

The man's gotta point.

“That's not a bad idea,” I said. “Send me one or two. I'll make sure it's tasteful, I swear, and then...Hello? Hello?!”

Dial tone. Damn.

Not Only Do We Look Alike...

My brother sent this to me - a shirt from our favorite on-line store.




I sent him a response: Who the hell is Xenu?

He wrote back: The dude who sent all the banished aliens to earth so they could throw themselves into the volcano and have their life force invade all of mankind until L. Ron Hubbard figured it out and wrote Dianetics to save all of us.

But, f*ck him, I like Xenu. He's a badass.

Let Your Freak Flags Fly

This Sunday, May 7, local Jews will celebrate Israel Independence Day in Plant Park at the University of Tampa from 11am-4pm. My children and I look forward to eating falafel with likeminded folks, listening to rockin' klezmer tunes and waving homemade Israeli flags.

Oops, wait a minute. People who show ethnic pride are getting into tons of trouble these days. Given our current political climate, is waving flags from a country outside the United States wise?

Senator Martinez doesn't think so. Neither does Steve Otto. Everywhere people are saying they're not against immigration reform, just protestors waving Mexican flags. That's the real issue, they assure us, not bogging down freedom seekers with pricey demands or overwhelming paperwork. Immigrants should be holding our own red, white, and blue when they complain!

I wonder if these same people will be ranting and raving against us next week. How many of my fellow Jews who spit on Latino Pride will give a second-thought to their own hypocrisy as they wave a blue and white flag sporting the Star of David? Talk to most of us on Sunday and our reasons for attendance will be similar to those of recent immigrants at other rallies.

Cultural pride.

Such pride doesn't make America weaker. Historically, it's made us stronger. I lived in the North End of Boston where most residents wave Italian flags every summer. Growing up among fierce Fenians, the Irish flag represented a source of identity not just during annual St. Patrick's Day celebrations, but year long. Those immigrants were also similarly ridiculed once upon a time and made to feel inferior because of either religious or cultural prejudices. Most Jews gathering this weekend have experienced similar bigotry. Yet how easily we forget the lessons of history while turning on our newest scapegoats.

Protests, dissent, rallies against injustice all make us strong as well. Wrapped in different flags, even rainbow-colored, doesn't make these events any less American. Quite the contrary, only here in America do these events resonate at all.

Yes, my children and I will participate in Sunday's celebration with a clean conscience. What's good for one ethnic group is good for another. Right?

Rescuing Recess

"We've got to make noises in greater amounts. So open your mouth, lad, for every voice counts." - Horton Hears a Who

Schools are cutting back recess time and forcing kids to sit at their desks all day. And we wonder why students are bringing weapons to school? Eight hours of arithmetic and grammar without blowing off steam is enough to send anyone over the edge. Children need time each day to run and play. Exercise also helps them focus more during assignments.

Please take a moment and print out a letter to your State School Superintendent or Commissioner of Education. Your children can help you write it and learn early about self-advocacy.

Hey you, loyal reader from Zephyrhills. Can I talk to you for a moment?

First of all, put down the Busch beer, it's not quite noon. Focus, Erma.
Ronda Storms wants to be your next state Senator. Never heard of her? Okay, she's that crazy b*tch from Hillsborough County who bullies and threatens her way through life, harassing gay people and starting fights with other commissioners. Oops, did I say "gay"?

Oh, your favorite cousin Pete is gay. Fantastic.

Anyway, Ronda is a bit of an embarrassment and now wants a promotion to represent you in Tallahassee. We already have enough to be embarrassed about here, don't we? I mean, remember what's-his-name with the tractor and addiction to...

Yoo-hoo! Turn off Price is Right and listen to me, Erma. I'll only take a second.

This Saturday, May 6, join your neighbors at the Publix on 301 in Zephyrhills to sign and gather signatures for Steve Gorham, the only Democrat running for this Senate seat. If we collect enough signatures, Gorham can bypass the filing fee of $10,000 and instead use that money to campaign.

Not everyone is as open-minded as you are, Erma. You and Cousin Pete, that is. So let's do the whole "sitting in a lawn chair and yelling at neighborhood kids" routine another weekend. This Saturday get your one good tooth and powers of persuasion in gear.

We need your help.

Time Is Running Out

Imagine you are sitting at the computer and trying to access your favorite site. It won't open because Congress gave your Internet provider power over what you see and read about on the Web.

Put a stop to this now. Corporations have no right to choose the sites you see. Joining forces for net neutrality are groups as diverse as MoveOn.org and Gun Owners of America. That's a movement we can all get behind.

"If companies like AT&T have their way, Web sites ranging from Google to eBay to MoveOn either pay the equivalent of protection money to get into the "fast lane" or risk opening slowly on your computer. We can't allow the Internet—this incredible medium which has been such a revolutionary force for democratic participation, economic innovation, and free speech—to become captive to large corporations."

Next week, the House of Representatives will vote whether to protect or reject Network Neutrality. Please sign this petition to protect Internet freedom.

Apparently One is Enough

I met Denise* at the mall. Embarrassing, but true. The kids were six months old and we'd go to the one place I could walk without bugs flying in my hair. I'd whip Thing One and Thing Two around kiosks selling cheap sunglasses and annoying children's toys. Lost about ten pounds. Never did buy one of those mugs with the kids' faces on it, though, but I talked up the guy who flew helicopters into unsuspecting shoppers. Ari was from Israel and needed a green card. Sue me.

Denise had girls a month younger than my boys. When we found each other, a playgroup grew. That playgroup is another blog entry altogether; however, out of all the "how we got our twins" stories, Denise's was the most interesting.

SIDE NOTE: Husband and I got our twins somewhere between the first and tenth day of conception. Coulda been the morning we rode rollercoasters in western Massachusetts or maybe as I walked through the Common one day coming home from work. God thought, "Let's have some fun" and zinged me. See? Not that interesting.

Denise and Carl* were different. They had fraternal twins, as opposed to identical, and how they came about involved a bit of a tale. You see, some people spend their twenties experimenting with drugs or getting humpty-humps out of their system. Carl battled testicular cancer. Such warfare left him wiser and happier than most. It also left him with one testicle and, unfortunately, sterile for life.

Before chemo, Carl set aside healthy sperm for future children. After going into remission, he and Denise spent years enduring IVF before successfully conceiving their girls.

Fast forward six years and suddenly Denise is facing her own health issues. Problems so bothersome, doctors finally suggested a full hysterectomy. Surgery was to take place today. Denise was sorta looking forward to a clean bill of health afterward. Last Thursday, after her pre-op, she called from a foggy, far-away place as if in shock.

"I can't have the surgery," she said.

Denise sounded disappointed and a little scared.

"Why? What's wrong?" I asked.

"Well," she struggled. "My blah-blah-blah numbers are too high..."

"I'm not a doctor, Denise! What does that mean? Does it mean you're okay or does it mean you're too sick to operate or does that mean..."

"It means I'm pregnant."

I stood up and screamed. And I'm not even a screamer. Ask my husband.

"Mazel Tov!"

"Yeah," she said, giggling. "Fourteen weeks along."

"Fourteen weeks!? How does a grown woman not know she's carrying a fourteen week-er?"

I know. I'm heartwarming.

"I thought I was getting fat. Another girl, too. Just one this time."

"Bless your heart," I said. "Bless Carl, too. A house full of women. What about your health?"

"The doctors said I'll be fine. Surgery can wait another six months or so."

"Well, good for Superman with his one little guy down there! So much for 'sterile for life.'"

"They said miracles sometimes happen, we just never thought..."

"Where's Carl now?"

"Quite proud of himself. Doing a victory lap through the neighborhood and yelling, 'My boys are back!'"

*Names have been changed to protect the perpetually embarrassed.

One Big Happy Family

I always roll my eyes over the White House Correspondents' Dinner in Washington, D.C. Our current administration and its press corps are way too close for comfort. Esteemed journalists in Washington have proven in the last few years to be accessories after the fact - refusing to question dubious motives and report the truth back to us.

That's why I applaud independent papers, magazines and outside-the-beltway bloggers who question and tell the truth. Most Americans feel the same way otherwise the Internet wouldn't be so popular. I hope it drives print to be more responsible. Otherwise, the sooner we put Helen Thomas' peers out of business, the better off we'll all be.

This year Stephen Colbert came calling. And calling. And calling some more. Finally. Someone who makes sense. Disrespectful or Truth Telling? You decide. Colbert is a brave, breath of fresh air. When silence engulfs him are the times I wish I was in the corner applauding and laughing with my tongue out.

Maybe next year.

BooYeah

Jeb! tried but the Senate slapped him down and rejected efforts to repeal voter-approved smaller class sizes. Only six Republicans had the nerve to stand with Democrats and defeat a proposal that Bush put his considerable weight behind. These brave legislators and the majority of Florida voters understand that our kids have a right to a quality education in less-crowded classrooms.

If you were one of the activists who made phone calls or put pressure on Tallahassee to get behind the will of the people, congratulate yourself. Job well done.