This will be the last post of 2008 and is notably less intense than my last entry.
After arriving home safe and healthy from Children's Hospital, Johan promptly got the stomach flu. So between stress and sleep deprivation early in the week and near-constant changing of clothes due to vomit in the latter half of the week, combined with trying to get my affairs at work in order for my absence, it's been an awesome several days.
But the light at the end of this busy, tired, stressful, vomit-stained tunnel is 2 weeks in the Dominican Republic, beginning Monday. It's bizarre that I haven't been to the DR since 2004, since I spent the early 2000s doing anything I could to spend every holiday and school vacation there. It will be great to be back; see Eduardo's family and enjoy watching them meet Johan; soak up some rays; and swig down some ron with my girls. (Sarah and Sylia will be joining us in Santo Domingo December 15-23.) Sweet.
Johan and I arrive back in Minnesota late on New Years Eve. Like, at 11:55 p.m. They better have champagne at the baggage claim and a free sober cab to bring us home.
For now, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year (yeah, I failed again to get my act together in time to have holiday cards prepared and sent). Eduardo told me to promise my readership an early 2009 greeting complete with a picture of Johan riding a donkey. Like the Baby Jesus. Or the wise men, or whatever. I haven't been to church in awhile...who rode a donkey? Oh yeah, Johan.
Peace out and hasta 2009.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
World Comes Crashing Down (for a minute)
I intended to add just one last post before we leave for the Dominican Republic on December 15. It was going to be about how Eduardo and I have different packing styles and how, if I try to pack earlier than the day before we go, I will forget what I've packed and second guess myself and have to re-pack anyway.
Then, on Monday morning, Johan woke up unable to walk. He could still crawl, and pull up to standing, but his legs would not walk. It wasn't like he was reverting or just refusing to walk. He would try and his legs would buckle under him and he would get frustrated.
My mom was taking care of Johan on Monday (I didn't realize what was going on since we got up so early and he wasn't on the floor to walk before we left) and so she brought him to the pediatrician. They recommended that we go to Children's Hospital for a spinal tap. Holy fuck. Actually, we had the option of "wait and see" but if something was wrong, I wanted to know and start addressing it as soon as possible.
We got to the Emergency Room and Johan seemed to feel fine; but he was unable to walk.
Blood tests came back normal.
The ER doctor recommended the spinal tap and an MRI scan of the brain.
Soooo... choices are meningitis or brain tumor?
I don't think I can articulate the intensity of my worry and devastation. For the first time in my life, I can honestly say that I would trade places with someone- not only to undergo the tests, but I would rather cut off my own leg than have him have cancer. Or something. The point is, sheer terror and fear had set in.
To undergo these tests, Johan would have to have an IV. It took 2 incompetent nurses, and finally a decent one, to get into a vein. That was probably the most disturbing part of the day for Johan. Then Johan was admitted to the hospital and a young resident came to talk to us.
He discussed with us the process of elimination- we do all these tests to eliminate possibilities. When he asked about family history, my mom shared that my grandma has osteoporosis and my grandpa died of Alzheimer's. The doctor assured us it was not those. Right. Now about the brain tumor...
At about 2pm, we got up to Johan's room, where we sat around and played with some toys from the hospital toy room. At 4pm, we went to radiology. They sedated Johan (very creepy to watch) and then sent his little limp body into the MRI machine. From there, they kept him sedated and did the spinal tap.
We went back upstairs with a still unconscious Johan at about 6pm. Johan woke up happy at 6:30 or so, and promptly went back to sleep. There was a snowstorm outside the window and I felt about as helpless as the street trying to stay dry. I kept bugging the nurse to check the computer for test results.
Finally, about 7:3o the radiology report was available. She said she'd call the doctor up. I said "listen, I read MRI reports every day. Just let me see." ...
Conclusion: Normal MRI study of the brain.
And then I breathed again.
No osteoporosis. No Alzheimer's. No brain cancer.
A bit later, the spinal tap results came in normal as well.
No meningitis.
Thank God. Or la Virgen, if you're Eduardo.
So, WTF is going on? Acute ataxia (instability)- either a reaction to a vaccine or an already-resolved virus. The question remained: what about Johan walking again? All the doctors said most kids get over it in a week or so. Most. Uh, great. And Johan had an IV in his foot, so we couldn't even let him try to walk.
After a horrible and restless night of sleep (thanks to a newborn baby roommate with jaundice), Johan's IV was removed about 8am Tuesday.
Still not walking.
A neurologist evaluated him and said he thought Johan would get better in a week or so, and that we could keep our travel plans.
Johan, Eduardo, and I kept waiting. And waiting. Just to get the discharge papers. Finally, I brought Johan to the play room. There were a couple of bouncy balls in the room. Johan loves to bounce balls. Because I am so very mean, I put them on the opposite side of the room and told Johan to come get them. He pulled himself up, and after a couple of failed attempts, took a step. Then another. Then he fell. Then he tried again and took maybe 10 steps. He slowly started walking again.
We were discharged about 10:30. Johan fell asleep the second we got in the car, and slept until almost 3pm at home. Nothing like one's own bed. By last night, he was walking all over. His balance is worse than before, and his gait is slightly off, but it appears to be continually improving.
A long and scary story, with a happy and boring ending.
Johan is a happy little boy this morning, in his own house with his papa, eating cereal and yogurt. Playing his drum. And able to walk.
Thank God. Thank modern medicine that can tell us within hours that our boy is ok. Thank you to everyone who took my calls and text messages on Monday, and sent us well wishes and love. And, of course, thanks to la Virgen.
PS. The doctors would want me to tell you that, even if the MMR vaccine caused this temporary paralysis, you should still get your kids vaccinated.
Then, on Monday morning, Johan woke up unable to walk. He could still crawl, and pull up to standing, but his legs would not walk. It wasn't like he was reverting or just refusing to walk. He would try and his legs would buckle under him and he would get frustrated.
My mom was taking care of Johan on Monday (I didn't realize what was going on since we got up so early and he wasn't on the floor to walk before we left) and so she brought him to the pediatrician. They recommended that we go to Children's Hospital for a spinal tap. Holy fuck. Actually, we had the option of "wait and see" but if something was wrong, I wanted to know and start addressing it as soon as possible.
We got to the Emergency Room and Johan seemed to feel fine; but he was unable to walk.
Blood tests came back normal.
The ER doctor recommended the spinal tap and an MRI scan of the brain.
Soooo... choices are meningitis or brain tumor?
I don't think I can articulate the intensity of my worry and devastation. For the first time in my life, I can honestly say that I would trade places with someone- not only to undergo the tests, but I would rather cut off my own leg than have him have cancer. Or something. The point is, sheer terror and fear had set in.
To undergo these tests, Johan would have to have an IV. It took 2 incompetent nurses, and finally a decent one, to get into a vein. That was probably the most disturbing part of the day for Johan. Then Johan was admitted to the hospital and a young resident came to talk to us.
He discussed with us the process of elimination- we do all these tests to eliminate possibilities. When he asked about family history, my mom shared that my grandma has osteoporosis and my grandpa died of Alzheimer's. The doctor assured us it was not those. Right. Now about the brain tumor...
At about 2pm, we got up to Johan's room, where we sat around and played with some toys from the hospital toy room. At 4pm, we went to radiology. They sedated Johan (very creepy to watch) and then sent his little limp body into the MRI machine. From there, they kept him sedated and did the spinal tap.
We went back upstairs with a still unconscious Johan at about 6pm. Johan woke up happy at 6:30 or so, and promptly went back to sleep. There was a snowstorm outside the window and I felt about as helpless as the street trying to stay dry. I kept bugging the nurse to check the computer for test results.
Finally, about 7:3o the radiology report was available. She said she'd call the doctor up. I said "listen, I read MRI reports every day. Just let me see." ...
Conclusion: Normal MRI study of the brain.
And then I breathed again.
No osteoporosis. No Alzheimer's. No brain cancer.
A bit later, the spinal tap results came in normal as well.
No meningitis.
Thank God. Or la Virgen, if you're Eduardo.
So, WTF is going on? Acute ataxia (instability)- either a reaction to a vaccine or an already-resolved virus. The question remained: what about Johan walking again? All the doctors said most kids get over it in a week or so. Most. Uh, great. And Johan had an IV in his foot, so we couldn't even let him try to walk.
After a horrible and restless night of sleep (thanks to a newborn baby roommate with jaundice), Johan's IV was removed about 8am Tuesday.
Still not walking.
A neurologist evaluated him and said he thought Johan would get better in a week or so, and that we could keep our travel plans.
Johan, Eduardo, and I kept waiting. And waiting. Just to get the discharge papers. Finally, I brought Johan to the play room. There were a couple of bouncy balls in the room. Johan loves to bounce balls. Because I am so very mean, I put them on the opposite side of the room and told Johan to come get them. He pulled himself up, and after a couple of failed attempts, took a step. Then another. Then he fell. Then he tried again and took maybe 10 steps. He slowly started walking again.
We were discharged about 10:30. Johan fell asleep the second we got in the car, and slept until almost 3pm at home. Nothing like one's own bed. By last night, he was walking all over. His balance is worse than before, and his gait is slightly off, but it appears to be continually improving.
A long and scary story, with a happy and boring ending.
Johan is a happy little boy this morning, in his own house with his papa, eating cereal and yogurt. Playing his drum. And able to walk.
Thank God. Thank modern medicine that can tell us within hours that our boy is ok. Thank you to everyone who took my calls and text messages on Monday, and sent us well wishes and love. And, of course, thanks to la Virgen.
PS. The doctors would want me to tell you that, even if the MMR vaccine caused this temporary paralysis, you should still get your kids vaccinated.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Good Things to Eat
I don't cook much, but sometimes my scavenging turns into good things. I happened upon 2 this weekend.
1) Vanilla ice cream, fresh blackberries (they were on sale for 99c) and chocolate syrup. Stir, spoon to mouth, repeat.
2) Grilled turkey and cheese sandwich. 2 pieces whole wheat bread buttered on the outside. Both pieces of bread non-butter side up. On one side, a layer of Thanksgiving cranberries- I prefer the whole berry kind. On the other, a thin layer of cream cheese. Then some turkey breast, a bit of sharp cheddar, thin slivered red onion. Grill it up (slowly, over low heat to make sure that everything gets very melty). Eat.
1) Vanilla ice cream, fresh blackberries (they were on sale for 99c) and chocolate syrup. Stir, spoon to mouth, repeat.
2) Grilled turkey and cheese sandwich. 2 pieces whole wheat bread buttered on the outside. Both pieces of bread non-butter side up. On one side, a layer of Thanksgiving cranberries- I prefer the whole berry kind. On the other, a thin layer of cream cheese. Then some turkey breast, a bit of sharp cheddar, thin slivered red onion. Grill it up (slowly, over low heat to make sure that everything gets very melty). Eat.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Creepy Blogospheres
So, I admit it, I "lurk." This is a word people who are really into blogging use to describe those that visit blogs but do not comment. I hope that I have many lurkers, so that my efforts here are not entirely futile. Anyhoo.
Lurking can take one places they could have never imagined. Where people have lingoes and acronyms like "IRL." In real life. Wow. So, I sometimes lurk on this blog of a girl I knew in high school but wasn't really friends with. Wife Sarah describes the blog as the electronic version of watching paint dry. It's true, but somehow we return to read and judge.
From that blog which I shall henceforth call the Paint Blog for clarity's sake, I wandered to this other blog of some girl that lives in suburban or rural Minnesota and whose entire life revolves around her husband. And now her pregnancy. She posts weekly pictures of her "bump" and is this retro, post/anti feminist McCain-supporting Christian. We shall call her blog Bump Blog. So, on election night, I may or may not have stopped by her blog and "de-lurked" (her word, not mine) myself to tell her how proud she should be of America. JESUS. Have another glass of wine, Kristina. She got really mad and commented on my blog with a defensive yet only half-literate rant about how she hopes America won't be as great as I hope or as bad as she fears. YAWN.
Have you kept up with me? First there was Paint Blog, then Bump Blog. Bump Blog has like 100 people that follow it. There is apparently some network of young woman bloggers whose lives and writing are entirely wrapped up in their weddings (not marriages, but weddings); and getting pregnant or being infertile. The more you click, the creepier it gets. It's very very early in the morning so I don't think I'm conveying quite how creepy it is- but it's so much that I start feeling like Bump Blogger is actually sort of normal, at least compared to the other creepies blogging out there.
I think I am going to go back to watching many hours of cable news. It's not as exciting now that the election is over, but I am not out to make enemies on the internet, and creepy blogs/bloggers mixed with wine seems a recipe for disaster.
Lurking can take one places they could have never imagined. Where people have lingoes and acronyms like "IRL." In real life. Wow. So, I sometimes lurk on this blog of a girl I knew in high school but wasn't really friends with. Wife Sarah describes the blog as the electronic version of watching paint dry. It's true, but somehow we return to read and judge.
From that blog which I shall henceforth call the Paint Blog for clarity's sake, I wandered to this other blog of some girl that lives in suburban or rural Minnesota and whose entire life revolves around her husband. And now her pregnancy. She posts weekly pictures of her "bump" and is this retro, post/anti feminist McCain-supporting Christian. We shall call her blog Bump Blog. So, on election night, I may or may not have stopped by her blog and "de-lurked" (her word, not mine) myself to tell her how proud she should be of America. JESUS. Have another glass of wine, Kristina. She got really mad and commented on my blog with a defensive yet only half-literate rant about how she hopes America won't be as great as I hope or as bad as she fears. YAWN.
Have you kept up with me? First there was Paint Blog, then Bump Blog. Bump Blog has like 100 people that follow it. There is apparently some network of young woman bloggers whose lives and writing are entirely wrapped up in their weddings (not marriages, but weddings); and getting pregnant or being infertile. The more you click, the creepier it gets. It's very very early in the morning so I don't think I'm conveying quite how creepy it is- but it's so much that I start feeling like Bump Blogger is actually sort of normal, at least compared to the other creepies blogging out there.
I think I am going to go back to watching many hours of cable news. It's not as exciting now that the election is over, but I am not out to make enemies on the internet, and creepy blogs/bloggers mixed with wine seems a recipe for disaster.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Reason #457,862 to vote Democrat
Setting: Thanksgiving Celebration at my dad and Ev's house, Sunday afternoon.
Players: Lund and Brandt families
Star: Christopher, Age 13
Chris enters kitchen, clearly bored and sick of adult convo.
Chris: Well, can I just go to the library?
Me: You know what, it's not open on Sundays. If you vote Democrat, though, we can maybe someday get more funding for libraries so they are open EVERY day.
Chris: I'm definitely a Democrat, then.
See? If Democrats had their way, libraries would be open every day and 13 year-old-boys would not have to sit around bored at family get-togethers.
On a side note, such conversation is totally fair game in our family. Right before this exchange, I had argued with Chris' dad about a) whether Obama is actually a U.S. citizen; and b) if Obama's grandmother's death was a political move. Huh? Seriously? Trust me, the more plugs I can get in for the DFL to these kids, the better.
Players: Lund and Brandt families
Star: Christopher, Age 13
Chris enters kitchen, clearly bored and sick of adult convo.
Chris: Well, can I just go to the library?
Me: You know what, it's not open on Sundays. If you vote Democrat, though, we can maybe someday get more funding for libraries so they are open EVERY day.
Chris: I'm definitely a Democrat, then.
See? If Democrats had their way, libraries would be open every day and 13 year-old-boys would not have to sit around bored at family get-togethers.
On a side note, such conversation is totally fair game in our family. Right before this exchange, I had argued with Chris' dad about a) whether Obama is actually a U.S. citizen; and b) if Obama's grandmother's death was a political move. Huh? Seriously? Trust me, the more plugs I can get in for the DFL to these kids, the better.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Nerd?
Am I a nerd, or, in the alternative, overly sentimental for wanting to make sure I always have the earrings that I was wearing on Election Night 2008, so that when I am an old lady, I can go through my jewelry with my granddaughter and point them out as the earrings I was wearing the night Obama was elected? They are flashy and turquoise.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
11/15/08
Most people count their birthday as one of their favorite days of the year. I'm sure mine will remain for me, but I think that Johan's birthday is even better. I mean, I don't remember being born. I do, however,remember Johan being born and the anniversary of his birth is a great time to reminisce and reflect on how he's grown and changed (and also how I have grown and changed).
Johan had a lovely first birthday. We got up and had breakfast together. His party was at 2 in the afternoon- I planned it for non-lunch/dinner hours so that it would be short and less likely to cause Johan to have a meltdown.
Our tiny living room was filled with close to 40 people, and another 10 or so kids playing in the basement. I opened most of Johan's cards and gifts (no duplicates; lots of cool stuff, especially musical instruments, a lady bug "motorcycle," some high-quality shoes that have improved Johan's steadiness and walking exponentially). Johan played with Ruby and hid in the hallway with Grandma Lund.
After gifts came cake. Chocolate. Pictures forthcoming.
Johan did great until about 3:30 at which time he reached the point of too much birthday and we politely invited our guests to leave.
After the crowds cleared out, he had some time to enjoy his new toys and scooting around in his new shoes. This was followed by dinner with a small group of family where Johan sat next to his great-grandma, which (hopefully) saved me from months of her bitching about how she barely got to see him on his birthday and she never sees us anyway and how he'll probably be in college before she spends any time with him...Riiight.
When we got home from dinner, the sugar set in. Johan was very tired, but rather than having a minor meltdown, he rolled around on the basement floor and laughed. Because that's what 1-year-olds do.
Johan is now 1 year and 1 day, and no worse for wear. He is enjoying his new toys, and we are struggling to get the last remnants of chocolate cake crumbs out of his nose.
Johan had a lovely first birthday. We got up and had breakfast together. His party was at 2 in the afternoon- I planned it for non-lunch/dinner hours so that it would be short and less likely to cause Johan to have a meltdown.
Our tiny living room was filled with close to 40 people, and another 10 or so kids playing in the basement. I opened most of Johan's cards and gifts (no duplicates; lots of cool stuff, especially musical instruments, a lady bug "motorcycle," some high-quality shoes that have improved Johan's steadiness and walking exponentially). Johan played with Ruby and hid in the hallway with Grandma Lund.
After gifts came cake. Chocolate. Pictures forthcoming.
Johan did great until about 3:30 at which time he reached the point of too much birthday and we politely invited our guests to leave.
After the crowds cleared out, he had some time to enjoy his new toys and scooting around in his new shoes. This was followed by dinner with a small group of family where Johan sat next to his great-grandma, which (hopefully) saved me from months of her bitching about how she barely got to see him on his birthday and she never sees us anyway and how he'll probably be in college before she spends any time with him...Riiight.
When we got home from dinner, the sugar set in. Johan was very tired, but rather than having a minor meltdown, he rolled around on the basement floor and laughed. Because that's what 1-year-olds do.
Johan is now 1 year and 1 day, and no worse for wear. He is enjoying his new toys, and we are struggling to get the last remnants of chocolate cake crumbs out of his nose.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
More on Soy
The joy and celebration have not dissipated. It's hard to get me in a bad mood these days- I just keep thinking about Obama.
But, alas, it is ok to blog about something else, although I have a few more Obamablogs in the pipeline.
Today is about soy. A couple things.
1)Tonight at dinner, we discovered a food Johan doesn't like: Tofu. At least, baked tofu. He opened his mouth for it, then spit it out directly, shuddered and made a grunting sort of gross sound. Even when I said "yum yum" to try to make him realize it is something he should like, it was a no go. This is the first food Johan has absolutely refused. Sorry, California.
2) Johan will be one year old on Saturday. Wow. He can walk and laugh and get an attitude and entertain himself and help put on his hat. It's pretty awesome. One of the changes we get to make on the big 0-1 is to switch him from formula to regular milk. But, I've been thinking about switching him to soy milk. We are not anti-dairy. In fact, cottage cheese is probably my favorite food; Johan's too. (Eduardo thinks we are gross for eating cottage cheese, but he just doesn't understand American freedoms and the like.) Any-hoo, between cheese, yogurt, and ice cream, I have a feeling this little boy will be getting *enough* dairy. And since soy protein is supposed to be so great, soy milk in lieu of whole milk seems like an easy way to get soy protein. On the other hand, I have read reports of soy mimicking estrogen and while there's no doubt that Johan is pretty, I don't need a little boy with breast buds or anything. Johan's 12 month check up is next Tuesday and I purposely made the appointment with the younger, more open-minded MD so I can ask her about soy milk.
If she says soy milk is a safe choice, don't tell Johan that soy milk is made from the same stuff as tofu, ok?
But, alas, it is ok to blog about something else, although I have a few more Obamablogs in the pipeline.
Today is about soy. A couple things.
1)Tonight at dinner, we discovered a food Johan doesn't like: Tofu. At least, baked tofu. He opened his mouth for it, then spit it out directly, shuddered and made a grunting sort of gross sound. Even when I said "yum yum" to try to make him realize it is something he should like, it was a no go. This is the first food Johan has absolutely refused. Sorry, California.
2) Johan will be one year old on Saturday. Wow. He can walk and laugh and get an attitude and entertain himself and help put on his hat. It's pretty awesome. One of the changes we get to make on the big 0-1 is to switch him from formula to regular milk. But, I've been thinking about switching him to soy milk. We are not anti-dairy. In fact, cottage cheese is probably my favorite food; Johan's too. (Eduardo thinks we are gross for eating cottage cheese, but he just doesn't understand American freedoms and the like.) Any-hoo, between cheese, yogurt, and ice cream, I have a feeling this little boy will be getting *enough* dairy. And since soy protein is supposed to be so great, soy milk in lieu of whole milk seems like an easy way to get soy protein. On the other hand, I have read reports of soy mimicking estrogen and while there's no doubt that Johan is pretty, I don't need a little boy with breast buds or anything. Johan's 12 month check up is next Tuesday and I purposely made the appointment with the younger, more open-minded MD so I can ask her about soy milk.
If she says soy milk is a safe choice, don't tell Johan that soy milk is made from the same stuff as tofu, ok?
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
JOY.
Elation. I am still unable to even truly believe that it's final; that we won. Every time I think of it, my heart fills up anew with so much joy that I shiver.
I have loved reading about and seeing images from around the world celebrating. Sure, they're celebrating Obama, but I think more than that, they're celebrating America. Despite 8 years of America the jerk, most countries and most people in the world still believe in us; in our ability to do the right thing; to believe in hope and goodness; to be a bastion of freedom; to be a friend rather than a bully. I am so proud of us.
I started this post on Wednesday (it's now Saturday), and I just had another thought.
Since I first voted in 2000, the president has been a person that I don't believe was actually elected. Before the wars; before the torture; before the wiretapping, there was 2000. When not all the votes were counted. When, if the votes had been counted, the Bush Administration would have never happened. How incredible it is to go directly from that type of election to this year's election. When more people voted than have ever voted and it seems that those votes have been counted; when a grassroots campaign made up of $5 contributions fought all the way to the White House; when even former slave states helped elect a black man to the Presidency.
Talk about the yin and the yang of elections. So, joy. Sometimes I'm in the car and the reality of what happened on Tuesday night will pop in my head, and I will feel like I just heard the news all over again. Still a lot of joy to be celebrated.
I have loved reading about and seeing images from around the world celebrating. Sure, they're celebrating Obama, but I think more than that, they're celebrating America. Despite 8 years of America the jerk, most countries and most people in the world still believe in us; in our ability to do the right thing; to believe in hope and goodness; to be a bastion of freedom; to be a friend rather than a bully. I am so proud of us.
I started this post on Wednesday (it's now Saturday), and I just had another thought.
Since I first voted in 2000, the president has been a person that I don't believe was actually elected. Before the wars; before the torture; before the wiretapping, there was 2000. When not all the votes were counted. When, if the votes had been counted, the Bush Administration would have never happened. How incredible it is to go directly from that type of election to this year's election. When more people voted than have ever voted and it seems that those votes have been counted; when a grassroots campaign made up of $5 contributions fought all the way to the White House; when even former slave states helped elect a black man to the Presidency.
Talk about the yin and the yang of elections. So, joy. Sometimes I'm in the car and the reality of what happened on Tuesday night will pop in my head, and I will feel like I just heard the news all over again. Still a lot of joy to be celebrated.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
No words.
How can Johan possibly understand the magnitude of tonight? There are truly no words. I love this beautiful America so dearly tonight. I have never felt this alive. Ever. Tonight is history. Go America.
Monday, November 3, 2008
Gotta Have Faith
I'm not much for religion and prayer, and the existence of God is certainly beyond my pay scale. Ahem.
But, on tonight of all nights, it seems a night for faith. I mean, just in case God exists, it's worth asking for a little help to make sure we get the change we need.
Tonight when I got home from work, the first story I heard on the news was that Obama's grandmother died this morning. An elderly ailing woman was certainly not going to make it to Grant Park, but rather would have been watching from Hawaii. When I heard about Mrs. Dunham's death, I thought of something one of my more faithful friends said to me right before I got married. See, Eduardo's grandma died just 3 days before our wedding, and it was very hard for him. My friend said that his grandma wanted to be at our wedding, no matter what she had to do to be able to see her grandson get married. Not sure about the afterlife, but it's a nice thought. And, maybe, just maybe, I can conjure enough faith tonight to think that Mrs. Dunham knows something we don't-- she just had to make it to Grant Park to see her grandson make history tomorrow night, no matter what it took to get there.
Part of hope is faith, and tonight I'm ready to believe...
But, on tonight of all nights, it seems a night for faith. I mean, just in case God exists, it's worth asking for a little help to make sure we get the change we need.
Tonight when I got home from work, the first story I heard on the news was that Obama's grandmother died this morning. An elderly ailing woman was certainly not going to make it to Grant Park, but rather would have been watching from Hawaii. When I heard about Mrs. Dunham's death, I thought of something one of my more faithful friends said to me right before I got married. See, Eduardo's grandma died just 3 days before our wedding, and it was very hard for him. My friend said that his grandma wanted to be at our wedding, no matter what she had to do to be able to see her grandson get married. Not sure about the afterlife, but it's a nice thought. And, maybe, just maybe, I can conjure enough faith tonight to think that Mrs. Dunham knows something we don't-- she just had to make it to Grant Park to see her grandson make history tomorrow night, no matter what it took to get there.
Part of hope is faith, and tonight I'm ready to believe...
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Back on Track
I finally took the time to call linksys (India) and figure out my wireless connection. After following strange and hard-to-understand instructions, I'm back to being able to use my computer in all rooms of my house, rather than just the cold, mean laundry room. Life is good. Just in time for all the wikapediaing I will need to do about the history of the electoral college in just 48 short hours.
In other news, 2 weekends ago, Johan had his first road trip. ROAD TRIP, OMG! We headed to Madison to visit Sarah and Charlie. Overall, he was a great traveler- only making me stop once on the way there and twice on the way back. Pictures of our trip, which was mostly spent on Sarah's couch and at Tex Tubbs Taco Palace are available at facebook.com.
What else... I realized today that I really enjoy fall yard work. Raking leaves and filling lawn bags to take them away is a lovely way to spend an afternoon, especially when it's sunny and warm enough to wear flip flops.
Finally, Johan is walking! Not well, but he is walking. He took his first steps at his music class a week ago Thursday, and now is able to make it almost across a room. By his birthday he should be ready for a 5K, right?
In other news, 2 weekends ago, Johan had his first road trip. ROAD TRIP, OMG! We headed to Madison to visit Sarah and Charlie. Overall, he was a great traveler- only making me stop once on the way there and twice on the way back. Pictures of our trip, which was mostly spent on Sarah's couch and at Tex Tubbs Taco Palace are available at facebook.com.
What else... I realized today that I really enjoy fall yard work. Raking leaves and filling lawn bags to take them away is a lovely way to spend an afternoon, especially when it's sunny and warm enough to wear flip flops.
Finally, Johan is walking! Not well, but he is walking. He took his first steps at his music class a week ago Thursday, and now is able to make it almost across a room. By his birthday he should be ready for a 5K, right?
Monday, October 27, 2008
Dream
Last night I dreamed that I was running for Student Council President. I'm not sure what school I was dream-attending, but it was very important and I needed to choose a running mate. So, I chose Sarah Palin, and she accepted. This choice because I like Sarah Palin (although VP of Student Council is probably a more appropriate role for her than VP of America), but because it would enlighten everyone as to what a hypocrite she is.
In the dream, the thinking went like this: If Sarah Palin is my running mate, she will have to espouse and support my progressive and liberal values. But since, she's also John McCain's running mate, she's going to have to keep agreeing with him, too. Since she'll be arguing out of both sides of her mouth, the American public will get wise to her and vote against her. I was totally willing to sacrifice being Student Council President if it meant bringing Sarah Palin down, and ensuring she lost BOTH her VP bids.
Um, this election may prove to be the end of any semblance of sanity I once had. Only time will tell. And by time, I mean 8 days.
In the dream, the thinking went like this: If Sarah Palin is my running mate, she will have to espouse and support my progressive and liberal values. But since, she's also John McCain's running mate, she's going to have to keep agreeing with him, too. Since she'll be arguing out of both sides of her mouth, the American public will get wise to her and vote against her. I was totally willing to sacrifice being Student Council President if it meant bringing Sarah Palin down, and ensuring she lost BOTH her VP bids.
Um, this election may prove to be the end of any semblance of sanity I once had. Only time will tell. And by time, I mean 8 days.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
On Broadway
Last week, I found myself driving down Broadway Avenue in North Minneapolis. Now, unlike Chicago, Seattle, and many other cities where the northern areas are fancy schmancy and gentrified, in Minneapolis it's the opposite- most of south Minneapolis is the "better" part. South Minneapolis is where I and pretty much everyone I know grew up.
I realized as I drove down Broadway Avenue, that in the 23 years (3 years in LA and 1 year abroad, adds up to 27 total) I have lived in Minneapolis, I have never actually driven all the way down this thoroughfare of the north side. It's like a different city/country/planet. As I drove, I was dumbfounded that the Chain of Lakes Harriet, Calhoun, and Isles were merely 5 miles away. Discount furniture places with sloppily hand-painted signs on splintering wood. Half the buildings on nearly every street abandoned and boarded up. Four young guys on a street corner, all in wheel chairs (is it overly presumptuous to assume they had all been paralyzed in gun-related incidents?). And weirdest of all, a boarded-up gas station with the sign posting Unleaded for $1.00.
I tried to take a picture of the sign, but the light turned green and I missed it. Somehow I imagine that if I go back soon, the sign will not have changed. I mean, the last time gas was $1.00 even was in about 1998. So, clearly, this gas station has been closed for around 10 years--why is it just standing there like that? How is there a part of Minneapolis, supposed liberal bastion of progressive values and egalitarianism, that has been so ignored. Ignored by the City Council; ignored by the mayor; ignored by the news; ignored by me.
Maybe borne of my upper-middle class liberal guilt over not realizing just how impoverished and abandoned this part of my city is, I have a new found interest in North Minneapolis--in its history. It can't have always been like this, right? I mean, it's an older part of the city, close to downtown, so there must have been a time when it was lovely and bustling and thriving. I am going to do some sleuthing and learn some more about the other side of my beloved city.
This increased awareness of North Minneapolis also made me wish I was still in college, so I would be motivated to do real research on the city; and maybe create a photojounalistic essay or anthropological analysis. As it is, probably I will just google "history of North Minneapolis." But, I am definitely going to go back at get a picture of the gas station.
I realized as I drove down Broadway Avenue, that in the 23 years (3 years in LA and 1 year abroad, adds up to 27 total) I have lived in Minneapolis, I have never actually driven all the way down this thoroughfare of the north side. It's like a different city/country/planet. As I drove, I was dumbfounded that the Chain of Lakes Harriet, Calhoun, and Isles were merely 5 miles away. Discount furniture places with sloppily hand-painted signs on splintering wood. Half the buildings on nearly every street abandoned and boarded up. Four young guys on a street corner, all in wheel chairs (is it overly presumptuous to assume they had all been paralyzed in gun-related incidents?). And weirdest of all, a boarded-up gas station with the sign posting Unleaded for $1.00.
I tried to take a picture of the sign, but the light turned green and I missed it. Somehow I imagine that if I go back soon, the sign will not have changed. I mean, the last time gas was $1.00 even was in about 1998. So, clearly, this gas station has been closed for around 10 years--why is it just standing there like that? How is there a part of Minneapolis, supposed liberal bastion of progressive values and egalitarianism, that has been so ignored. Ignored by the City Council; ignored by the mayor; ignored by the news; ignored by me.
Maybe borne of my upper-middle class liberal guilt over not realizing just how impoverished and abandoned this part of my city is, I have a new found interest in North Minneapolis--in its history. It can't have always been like this, right? I mean, it's an older part of the city, close to downtown, so there must have been a time when it was lovely and bustling and thriving. I am going to do some sleuthing and learn some more about the other side of my beloved city.
This increased awareness of North Minneapolis also made me wish I was still in college, so I would be motivated to do real research on the city; and maybe create a photojounalistic essay or anthropological analysis. As it is, probably I will just google "history of North Minneapolis." But, I am definitely going to go back at get a picture of the gas station.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Bummer
It is the perfect day for a Vikings game- gray, chilly, raining off and on. Yet, they don't play until tomorrow night. Bummer.
The game is against New Orleans- perhaps the outcome will be a predictor of which metropolitan area my wife will end up choosing? Of course, I'm totally impartial.
Also, Johan has a cold. Bummer.
The game is against New Orleans- perhaps the outcome will be a predictor of which metropolitan area my wife will end up choosing? Of course, I'm totally impartial.
Also, Johan has a cold. Bummer.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
On Defense
I can be defensive. It's not something I like about myself and it's something that I think about a lot. I think it's related to my deep-seeded need to have the approval of people in my life. I remember in elementary school at a goal-setting conference, my teacher asked me if the approval of my teacher, my parents, or myself was most important. I couldn't choose. I told her that I needed the approval of my teacher, my parents, and myself.
So, right, you're saying, who doesn't like praise and approval?
It's not that I think I or the things I do are perfect. I could write a list of hundreds of mistakes I've made in both my personal and professional life. (That's a blog for another day, though.) I am fairly self-reflective and think I am at least somewhat aware of my strengths and weaknesses. It's more that I worry that critique is criticism. But, I am growing and working very hard to see that critique is an opportunity to learn.
Today I was in an intense meeting with BJ and a couple of clients who had some buyer's remorse about the conclusion of their case. There had been numerous phone calls leading up to this meeting, including the clients accusing me of being racist against Latino people and of lying to them. Since racism and lying are, like, two of my least favorite things, I understandably felt offended by these accusations. As you can imagine, I didn't go in to today's meeting particularly at ease.
BJ took the lead in the meeting today, and I felt like it was a great learning experience. He had an artful way of being matter-of-fact about the work our law firm did and why the results were fair and right, yet he was not defensive. He was clearly in control of the interaction, yet he acknowledged the client concerns and conceded points that were not really important, but allowed the client to feel that he was "winning" on some of the disagreements. More than once, he noted his years of experience but that he was never too experienced to learn something new and make changes for the better.
After the meeting, BJ and I were talking and he pointed out that in many Asian cultures, apologies flow much easier than in the western world. In the law business of course, there's a fine line between apologizing for a misunderstanding and saying you screwed up. (FYI, we did not screw up.) I think the thing that was hard for me was that I didn't even really see this as a misunderstanding but rather, that these clients were trying to pull a fast one by accusing me of untrue things. The problem, of course, is that I was getting nowhere by refusing to acknowledge any error or misunderstanding from my end.
Today BJ took the lead, and by finding the perfect balance of assertiveness without defensiveness, and a willingness to acknowledge that there is always room to learn and grow, the clients signed the papers and at the end, we all shook hands.
This is a successful resolution on many levels. The case is finally resolved and the necessary papers are signed. More importantly, I think the clients feel at least somewhat satisfied with the resolution. Most importantly, I think I gained some important insight about how a person can stand their ground without being defensive, and how a person can acknowledge imperfection without admitting error.
So, right, you're saying, who doesn't like praise and approval?
It's not that I think I or the things I do are perfect. I could write a list of hundreds of mistakes I've made in both my personal and professional life. (That's a blog for another day, though.) I am fairly self-reflective and think I am at least somewhat aware of my strengths and weaknesses. It's more that I worry that critique is criticism. But, I am growing and working very hard to see that critique is an opportunity to learn.
Today I was in an intense meeting with BJ and a couple of clients who had some buyer's remorse about the conclusion of their case. There had been numerous phone calls leading up to this meeting, including the clients accusing me of being racist against Latino people and of lying to them. Since racism and lying are, like, two of my least favorite things, I understandably felt offended by these accusations. As you can imagine, I didn't go in to today's meeting particularly at ease.
BJ took the lead in the meeting today, and I felt like it was a great learning experience. He had an artful way of being matter-of-fact about the work our law firm did and why the results were fair and right, yet he was not defensive. He was clearly in control of the interaction, yet he acknowledged the client concerns and conceded points that were not really important, but allowed the client to feel that he was "winning" on some of the disagreements. More than once, he noted his years of experience but that he was never too experienced to learn something new and make changes for the better.
After the meeting, BJ and I were talking and he pointed out that in many Asian cultures, apologies flow much easier than in the western world. In the law business of course, there's a fine line between apologizing for a misunderstanding and saying you screwed up. (FYI, we did not screw up.) I think the thing that was hard for me was that I didn't even really see this as a misunderstanding but rather, that these clients were trying to pull a fast one by accusing me of untrue things. The problem, of course, is that I was getting nowhere by refusing to acknowledge any error or misunderstanding from my end.
Today BJ took the lead, and by finding the perfect balance of assertiveness without defensiveness, and a willingness to acknowledge that there is always room to learn and grow, the clients signed the papers and at the end, we all shook hands.
This is a successful resolution on many levels. The case is finally resolved and the necessary papers are signed. More importantly, I think the clients feel at least somewhat satisfied with the resolution. Most importantly, I think I gained some important insight about how a person can stand their ground without being defensive, and how a person can acknowledge imperfection without admitting error.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Ring a ding
Yesterday my mom called my cell phone and it went straight to voicemail. Obviously this means the phone is turned off, right? But my mom thought it meant I was on another call. Huh? Anyway, this got me thinking about how phones have changed, and that Johan probably will never know what a busy signal sounds like. At our house, we don't even have a land line, and I can't think of anyone I know who is under 30 and has a land line. Is the busy signal going to be the Olde Timey Saloon Piano of Johan's generation?
On a related note...
Dear Client(s): If somehow you manage to get a hold of the number to my cell phone, despite my best efforts to keep that number top secret and away from any and all of my clients, please do not actually expect me to answer when you call me at 10pm on Friday night to ask me how you should get your prescription when you showed up at Walgreens after the pharmacy closed for the night. Thanks.
On a related note...
Dear Client(s): If somehow you manage to get a hold of the number to my cell phone, despite my best efforts to keep that number top secret and away from any and all of my clients, please do not actually expect me to answer when you call me at 10pm on Friday night to ask me how you should get your prescription when you showed up at Walgreens after the pharmacy closed for the night. Thanks.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Ramire
Cell phone ring.
Me: Hello?
Ramire: Hi, Kristina, it's me, Ramire.
Me: Hi honey how are you? How's school?
Ramire: Good, I got 100 on my first spelling test. I can spell sequence, sequins, and emphysema. (proceeded to spell each of these words correctly.)
Me: Wow, that's amazing. Good work, Ramire.
Ramire: Yeah, I'm going to study really hard and do well in school. I'm gonna get rich, but not to have money, so I can give it to others who need it. Because I can earn money really fast if I study a lot.
Me: Yes, yes you can. And it's really nice you want to share it with others.
Ramire: Yeah, wanna come see me do gymnastics sometime?
Me: For sure.
Ramire: Love you.
Me: Love you too.
*Sigh. I love this little boy (who is now in 3rd grade, and not so very little anymore, but continues to have such a good heart.)
Me: Hello?
Ramire: Hi, Kristina, it's me, Ramire.
Me: Hi honey how are you? How's school?
Ramire: Good, I got 100 on my first spelling test. I can spell sequence, sequins, and emphysema. (proceeded to spell each of these words correctly.)
Me: Wow, that's amazing. Good work, Ramire.
Ramire: Yeah, I'm going to study really hard and do well in school. I'm gonna get rich, but not to have money, so I can give it to others who need it. Because I can earn money really fast if I study a lot.
Me: Yes, yes you can. And it's really nice you want to share it with others.
Ramire: Yeah, wanna come see me do gymnastics sometime?
Me: For sure.
Ramire: Love you.
Me: Love you too.
*Sigh. I love this little boy (who is now in 3rd grade, and not so very little anymore, but continues to have such a good heart.)
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Sunday News
A few things of note:
1) We applied for Johan's passport on September 3. It was issued on September 9, and arrived September 11. Uhhh, seems like an unprecedented show of efficiency from the federal government, no? I thought it was like 8-12 weeks wait to get a passport. So, FYI, if you need a passport, don't get tricked into paying the expediency fee -- as long as you have 8 business days, it should work out. What's also funny is that Johan's passport is valid until 2013. That means he will be able to travel on this passport when he's in kindergarten, with a picture from when he was 9 months old.
2) Yesterday Evelyn took care of Johan while I got my hair cut. When I was done, Johan was sleeping, so Ev said she'd bring him home when he woke up. She did. When she dropped him off, rather than acting like a normal baby and being happy and excited to see his mama, he cried when Ev left. He marches/crawls to his own drum, no doubt. It makes me happy that he feels so attached to her, because I know it means he's getting lots of attention and love when I'm not around. It's, of course, quite interesting how relationships morph over the years- Johan is probably more attached to Ev than to any adult besides Eduardo and me (and as evidenced by yesterday, sometimes more so) while Ev and I had a very tumultuous relationship when I was a kid.
3) Tina Fey does an awesome Sarah Palin. Better than Sarah Palin does Sarah Palin. SNL is back just in time.
1) We applied for Johan's passport on September 3. It was issued on September 9, and arrived September 11. Uhhh, seems like an unprecedented show of efficiency from the federal government, no? I thought it was like 8-12 weeks wait to get a passport. So, FYI, if you need a passport, don't get tricked into paying the expediency fee -- as long as you have 8 business days, it should work out. What's also funny is that Johan's passport is valid until 2013. That means he will be able to travel on this passport when he's in kindergarten, with a picture from when he was 9 months old.
2) Yesterday Evelyn took care of Johan while I got my hair cut. When I was done, Johan was sleeping, so Ev said she'd bring him home when he woke up. She did. When she dropped him off, rather than acting like a normal baby and being happy and excited to see his mama, he cried when Ev left. He marches/crawls to his own drum, no doubt. It makes me happy that he feels so attached to her, because I know it means he's getting lots of attention and love when I'm not around. It's, of course, quite interesting how relationships morph over the years- Johan is probably more attached to Ev than to any adult besides Eduardo and me (and as evidenced by yesterday, sometimes more so) while Ev and I had a very tumultuous relationship when I was a kid.
3) Tina Fey does an awesome Sarah Palin. Better than Sarah Palin does Sarah Palin. SNL is back just in time.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Hurricane
Nope. Not, Gustav, Ivan, or even Katrina. The boxer.
Today I participated in jury selection for the first time. It was kind of cool- trying to figure people out; their psychology; their quirks; where they're coming from.
11 prospective jurors to fill a jury of 7 for a civil trial.
My client is a black guy.
All of the 11 prospective jurors self-identified as white.
As I saw that on their bio sheets, Dylan's "Hurricane" started running through my head.
"No one doubted that he pulled the trigger.
And though they could not produce the gun,
The D.A. said he was the one who did the deed
And the all-white jury agreed."
My client is not on trial for murder. There is no gun. But the jury is all-white. Of course, it shouldn't matter. And none of the jurors would say yes if I asked them if they had any racial prejudices or if their decision in the case would be at all affected by my client's race. But, of course people do have racial prejudices and their decisions are affected by those. So, even though it shouldn't matter, it does matter, if only for the history of American courts entrenched with cases where all-white juries convict and otherwise rule against black people.
So, now I am trying to think of a question one could ask prospective jurors that would give me some information about their feelings about black people (or whomever)without asking them to admit in open court that they are racist. Any suggestions?
Today I participated in jury selection for the first time. It was kind of cool- trying to figure people out; their psychology; their quirks; where they're coming from.
11 prospective jurors to fill a jury of 7 for a civil trial.
My client is a black guy.
All of the 11 prospective jurors self-identified as white.
As I saw that on their bio sheets, Dylan's "Hurricane" started running through my head.
"No one doubted that he pulled the trigger.
And though they could not produce the gun,
The D.A. said he was the one who did the deed
And the all-white jury agreed."
My client is not on trial for murder. There is no gun. But the jury is all-white. Of course, it shouldn't matter. And none of the jurors would say yes if I asked them if they had any racial prejudices or if their decision in the case would be at all affected by my client's race. But, of course people do have racial prejudices and their decisions are affected by those. So, even though it shouldn't matter, it does matter, if only for the history of American courts entrenched with cases where all-white juries convict and otherwise rule against black people.
So, now I am trying to think of a question one could ask prospective jurors that would give me some information about their feelings about black people (or whomever)without asking them to admit in open court that they are racist. Any suggestions?
Friday, September 5, 2008
Hey, Look- I'm a Little Bit Famous!
The Alibi is Albuquerque's independent weekly newspaper. Like the City Pages but with more fry bread tacos. Laura is my friend, and the editor of The Alibi, and she likes to make me famous:
http://www.alibi.com/index.php?story=24507&subscn=politics&fullstory=y&blog_start=0&pgvw=blog
http://www.alibi.com/index.php?story=24507&subscn=politics&fullstory=y&blog_start=0&pgvw=blog
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
RNC
I spent Labor Day as a National Lawyers Guild Legal Observer at the anti-RNC marches and protests in St. Paul. Legal observers are not to participate in protests or actions, but are there to observe and document the actions (read: abuses) by police.
I will post pictures once I get the ok from NLG-- since some of them may be needed as evidence, I don't want to do anything to break the chain of evidence or create anything to decrease the evidentiary value.
As we headed toward the river in downtown St. Paul, we saw several young guys seated and handcuffed at the train tracks. One of them was clearly in distress, his face red and blistered, his eyes watering and he looked to be struggling to breathe. Their friend who had managed to avoid arrest told me they had sat down in the street, and police approached, telling them to get out of the street while spraying pepper spray at the same time. It took paramedics 20 minutes to arrive to begin cleaning the kid's eyes and face. The arrestees sat in the 90 degree sun, handcuffed, unable to wipe their brows or drink water. We remained at this scene for nearly an hour, taking pictures and trying to get information from the police:
Us: Where are you taking them?
Police: Jail.
Us: What jail.
Police: Jail.
After some time, the police officers moved the arrestees to "the shade" -- an area behind a fence where we could no longer access the arrestees or observe what was going on. There didn't seem to be many trees in the "shade," but just a fence to keep the arrestees from talking to their friends or us. Before they were taken away, one of the arrestees, a young red-headed kid, said to me: "NLG? Can you take a picture of my face, so they'll know I was taken?" I did as he asked, and thought, is this Chile circa 1973? The disappeared? Good god.
I should note that the majority of police officers present at this scene were from Milwaukee. Only one St. Paul cop. And he was the one who responded to our questions, and acknowledged our presence in any real way. The others refused to say their names and seemed to do all they could to cover up or hide their badges.
We left a couple of our NLG colleagues to continue trying to observe what was going on, and walked along the river to try to catch up with the march. We never did see the main march and rally, because before we got there, we happened upon the anarchists.
Now, mainstream media has described the break-away marchers and anarchists as violent and out of control. Believe me, the majority of these people are skinny teenagers in dresses and pink wigs; black bandanas and patches on their jeans; dred-locked and weapon-free. They are not dangerous. However, they were outside the perimeter/parameters of the "approved" protest. As we arrived, they were in the street, dancing, milling about. Ironically or not, this was taking place in front of the Paul and Sheila Wellstone Elementary School. We saw some cops in shorts ride by on bicycles. Two protesters tipped over a garbage can. I braced myself for arrest and perhaps violent over-reaction by the police. Nothing. I waited. Nope, no officers did anything about the tipped-over garbage.
I wondered why.
We continued up the street that hugs the river, and saw why. The National Guard had been called in. The military and the police were assembling their riot gear. The military formed a shoulder-to-shoulder chain, fully armed, ready for combat. With the kids in pink wigs. These anarchists were not breaking windows, not throwing bricks, jars of urine, or anything else. They were just there.
At that point, an officer picked up a megaphone. His voice came through scratchy and unclear. I heard the words "final warning or..." but nothing else. Some minutes later, I asked some non-anarchist protesters (a middle-aged mother and her teenage daughters wearing Abercrombie and peace-sign earrings) what they heard, and they confirmed that all they heard was his voice, but could not make out the words.
Soon enough, a vehicle that looked like an ambulance arrived at the scene. Instead of paramedics came more police officers. It was not an ambulance, but a vehicle carrying tear gas, smoke, pepper spray, and rubber bullets and guns. "Non-lethal" weapons.
The line of police approached the small group of anarchists. I felt afraid, not of the anarchists, but of the riot-gear-laden armed paramilitary that was sent out to "protect" us from them. At that point, a plume of purple smoke rose up. The sound of rubber bullets being shot filled the air. As I tried to get close enough to the violence to record what was going on, my stupid right ankle that has failed me on so many occasions twisted and I fell to the ground. I sprained my right ankle and got a nasty cut on my left knee.
Damn.
I hobbled to a bench and found some medics. Once they were done helping a kid who had been pepper-sprayed clean his eyes and face, they wrapped my ankle and bandaged my knee.
Knowing I was unable to run if necessary, I suggested to my comrades that we make our way back to the muster site. As we made our way slowly through downtown St. Paul, we saw the broken Macy's window. Yes, someone broke it. One person. Not "the anarchists." One person. We continued to walk, and our eyes and faces began to burn. The pepper spray and tear gas had traveled a long way, and worried I wouldn't be able to run if I needed to, we found a taxi and got a ride the rest of the way.
That evening, Eduardo had to carry Johan into the house because I didn't want to get chemicals on Johan if any remained on my skin. I felt a rush of emotions. Proud that so many people came to protest and resist the RNC. Ashamed at the over-reactions, abuses, and violence by law enforcement. Inspired to fight even harder for Obama.
After having some time to reflect, I think one of the main reasons the conflicts between protesters and law enforcement have been so numerous and confrontational goes back to a flaw in assigning officer duties. On Monday, as we exited the highways, I saw lots of officers from all over Minnesota directing traffic and guarding bridges. Officers from Minnesota know Minnesota and know Minnesotans. They are (somewhat) politically accountable for their actions and they (hopefully) became police officers to serve Minnesota and their communities. Yet, there they were, acting as glorified traffic lights.
By contrast, the officers I saw approaching, arresting, beating, spraying, and shooting marchers were from Milwaukee, Chicago, Tucson, and even L.A. These out-of-state officers are from larger, more violent cities with long histories of aggression with the people in their communities. They will leave St. Paul on Friday or Saturday. They will have face no accountability for their actions while here. They are the ones who should have been directing traffic, while officers from St. Paul, Elk River, Richfield, Bloomington, and other local cities should have been interacting with the protesters.
On the way back to Minneapolis with Sarah and Charlie, we dug through my CDs and ended the day in just the right way.
This land is your land
This land is my land
From California to the New York Island
From the Red Wood Forest to the Gulf Stream Waters
This land was made for you and me.
And even the anarchists. In their pink wigs and black bandanas; physically abused; handcuffed and arrested; charged with "presence at an unlawful assembly." This land was made for you and me, and them too.
I will post pictures once I get the ok from NLG-- since some of them may be needed as evidence, I don't want to do anything to break the chain of evidence or create anything to decrease the evidentiary value.
As we headed toward the river in downtown St. Paul, we saw several young guys seated and handcuffed at the train tracks. One of them was clearly in distress, his face red and blistered, his eyes watering and he looked to be struggling to breathe. Their friend who had managed to avoid arrest told me they had sat down in the street, and police approached, telling them to get out of the street while spraying pepper spray at the same time. It took paramedics 20 minutes to arrive to begin cleaning the kid's eyes and face. The arrestees sat in the 90 degree sun, handcuffed, unable to wipe their brows or drink water. We remained at this scene for nearly an hour, taking pictures and trying to get information from the police:
Us: Where are you taking them?
Police: Jail.
Us: What jail.
Police: Jail.
After some time, the police officers moved the arrestees to "the shade" -- an area behind a fence where we could no longer access the arrestees or observe what was going on. There didn't seem to be many trees in the "shade," but just a fence to keep the arrestees from talking to their friends or us. Before they were taken away, one of the arrestees, a young red-headed kid, said to me: "NLG? Can you take a picture of my face, so they'll know I was taken?" I did as he asked, and thought, is this Chile circa 1973? The disappeared? Good god.
I should note that the majority of police officers present at this scene were from Milwaukee. Only one St. Paul cop. And he was the one who responded to our questions, and acknowledged our presence in any real way. The others refused to say their names and seemed to do all they could to cover up or hide their badges.
We left a couple of our NLG colleagues to continue trying to observe what was going on, and walked along the river to try to catch up with the march. We never did see the main march and rally, because before we got there, we happened upon the anarchists.
Now, mainstream media has described the break-away marchers and anarchists as violent and out of control. Believe me, the majority of these people are skinny teenagers in dresses and pink wigs; black bandanas and patches on their jeans; dred-locked and weapon-free. They are not dangerous. However, they were outside the perimeter/parameters of the "approved" protest. As we arrived, they were in the street, dancing, milling about. Ironically or not, this was taking place in front of the Paul and Sheila Wellstone Elementary School. We saw some cops in shorts ride by on bicycles. Two protesters tipped over a garbage can. I braced myself for arrest and perhaps violent over-reaction by the police. Nothing. I waited. Nope, no officers did anything about the tipped-over garbage.
I wondered why.
We continued up the street that hugs the river, and saw why. The National Guard had been called in. The military and the police were assembling their riot gear. The military formed a shoulder-to-shoulder chain, fully armed, ready for combat. With the kids in pink wigs. These anarchists were not breaking windows, not throwing bricks, jars of urine, or anything else. They were just there.
At that point, an officer picked up a megaphone. His voice came through scratchy and unclear. I heard the words "final warning or..." but nothing else. Some minutes later, I asked some non-anarchist protesters (a middle-aged mother and her teenage daughters wearing Abercrombie and peace-sign earrings) what they heard, and they confirmed that all they heard was his voice, but could not make out the words.
Soon enough, a vehicle that looked like an ambulance arrived at the scene. Instead of paramedics came more police officers. It was not an ambulance, but a vehicle carrying tear gas, smoke, pepper spray, and rubber bullets and guns. "Non-lethal" weapons.
The line of police approached the small group of anarchists. I felt afraid, not of the anarchists, but of the riot-gear-laden armed paramilitary that was sent out to "protect" us from them. At that point, a plume of purple smoke rose up. The sound of rubber bullets being shot filled the air. As I tried to get close enough to the violence to record what was going on, my stupid right ankle that has failed me on so many occasions twisted and I fell to the ground. I sprained my right ankle and got a nasty cut on my left knee.
Damn.
I hobbled to a bench and found some medics. Once they were done helping a kid who had been pepper-sprayed clean his eyes and face, they wrapped my ankle and bandaged my knee.
Knowing I was unable to run if necessary, I suggested to my comrades that we make our way back to the muster site. As we made our way slowly through downtown St. Paul, we saw the broken Macy's window. Yes, someone broke it. One person. Not "the anarchists." One person. We continued to walk, and our eyes and faces began to burn. The pepper spray and tear gas had traveled a long way, and worried I wouldn't be able to run if I needed to, we found a taxi and got a ride the rest of the way.
That evening, Eduardo had to carry Johan into the house because I didn't want to get chemicals on Johan if any remained on my skin. I felt a rush of emotions. Proud that so many people came to protest and resist the RNC. Ashamed at the over-reactions, abuses, and violence by law enforcement. Inspired to fight even harder for Obama.
After having some time to reflect, I think one of the main reasons the conflicts between protesters and law enforcement have been so numerous and confrontational goes back to a flaw in assigning officer duties. On Monday, as we exited the highways, I saw lots of officers from all over Minnesota directing traffic and guarding bridges. Officers from Minnesota know Minnesota and know Minnesotans. They are (somewhat) politically accountable for their actions and they (hopefully) became police officers to serve Minnesota and their communities. Yet, there they were, acting as glorified traffic lights.
By contrast, the officers I saw approaching, arresting, beating, spraying, and shooting marchers were from Milwaukee, Chicago, Tucson, and even L.A. These out-of-state officers are from larger, more violent cities with long histories of aggression with the people in their communities. They will leave St. Paul on Friday or Saturday. They will have face no accountability for their actions while here. They are the ones who should have been directing traffic, while officers from St. Paul, Elk River, Richfield, Bloomington, and other local cities should have been interacting with the protesters.
On the way back to Minneapolis with Sarah and Charlie, we dug through my CDs and ended the day in just the right way.
This land is your land
This land is my land
From California to the New York Island
From the Red Wood Forest to the Gulf Stream Waters
This land was made for you and me.
And even the anarchists. In their pink wigs and black bandanas; physically abused; handcuffed and arrested; charged with "presence at an unlawful assembly." This land was made for you and me, and them too.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Conflict
This has been a stressful 24 hours for me. I'm staying at my dad's this weekend because they are out of town, and my brother is at home. Last night my brother and I got in a "fight" (which means I called him out on his characteristically disrespectful behavior and bad judgment and he then proceeded to call me "egotistical," "holier than thou," and "not my sister" in a series of attacking text messages.)
So I've been in kind of a crappy mood all day today, and was surprised that his angry and thoughtless words got to me so much, particularly since my whole career is based on conflict, and it seems like something I ought to be able to just let roll off my shoulder.
Just moments ago, I was able to put my finger on this feeling, this restlessness and worry combined with nausea- it's the same feeling I used to get when I was a kid and there would be intense anger and lashing out that tends to happen in a divorced/blended family home. I hated that aspect of my growing up, and it is something I have not really experienced in many many years.
The reminder of the ways that sort of discord and anger affect me makes me very grateful that my home life now involves mainly disagreements about MSNBC vs. ESPN and only on the very rarest of occasions ever escalates to true anger.
The pit in my stomach has started to shrink--my dad will be home tomorrow, and Sarah and Charlie arrive in Minneapolis in a matter of hours. And Johan is snuggling up to me right now, so the peace of my life emerges once again.
So I've been in kind of a crappy mood all day today, and was surprised that his angry and thoughtless words got to me so much, particularly since my whole career is based on conflict, and it seems like something I ought to be able to just let roll off my shoulder.
Just moments ago, I was able to put my finger on this feeling, this restlessness and worry combined with nausea- it's the same feeling I used to get when I was a kid and there would be intense anger and lashing out that tends to happen in a divorced/blended family home. I hated that aspect of my growing up, and it is something I have not really experienced in many many years.
The reminder of the ways that sort of discord and anger affect me makes me very grateful that my home life now involves mainly disagreements about MSNBC vs. ESPN and only on the very rarest of occasions ever escalates to true anger.
The pit in my stomach has started to shrink--my dad will be home tomorrow, and Sarah and Charlie arrive in Minneapolis in a matter of hours. And Johan is snuggling up to me right now, so the peace of my life emerges once again.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Political Developments
OH-bama. Holy smokes, Michelle Obama was was incredible last night. As she finished speaking and the daughters joined her on stage, I got another intuitive feeling that I was staring at the next First Family.
Hillary's speaking right now. It's the perfect speech, really, at least so far. It's what she needed to do- she's mentioned all the issues that are important to her and contrasted McCain's values and positions to her own and the Democratic platform. She's now quoting Harriet Tubman-- the Keep Going words. And Michelle Obama is giving her a standing ovation.
Man, I love this stuff.
On a side note, at the Minnesota State Fair today, we walked by the Republican booth and when they offered Johan a balloon, I shouted "GO-BAMA!" and Johan scowled at those balloon-offering fascists.
Hillary's speaking right now. It's the perfect speech, really, at least so far. It's what she needed to do- she's mentioned all the issues that are important to her and contrasted McCain's values and positions to her own and the Democratic platform. She's now quoting Harriet Tubman-- the Keep Going words. And Michelle Obama is giving her a standing ovation.
Man, I love this stuff.
On a side note, at the Minnesota State Fair today, we walked by the Republican booth and when they offered Johan a balloon, I shouted "GO-BAMA!" and Johan scowled at those balloon-offering fascists.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
3/4
Johan was 9 months old on August 15. While there was much fanfare and celebration, my interest (read: obsession) with the Olympics kept me from posting some 9 month photos. Probably most people have seen them on facebook anyway, but whatevs. He's darling enough to look at twice, don't you think?
Also, a disclaimer. These photos are actually from when he was 8 months old. See above for why I haven't gotten around to downloading pictures for a few weeks. In any case, it's incredible to me that in 12 short weeks, Johan will be one year old.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
NWA can take a flying...
leap.
Last night Eduardo and I bought our tickets to the DR for Christmas. It will be my first trip there since 2004, which is insane since I used to spend all my school holidays and summers there. Before we bought our tickets on American Airlines, I checked around with some other airlines, just to see if they had any better deals.
Northwest Airlines is the predominant airline out of Minneapolis airport, so I wondered what they might have to offer, especially in light of the recent merger with Delta, which has a strong presence in Latin America.
The tickets from MSP - Santo Domingo costs $7000.00. That's seven THOUSAND. For coach. And food for purchase. Even more ridiculous is the proposed route: Fly from Minneapolis to Amsterdam; Amsterdam to Paris; and Paris to Santo Domingo. w. t. f. Northwest clearly does not want to sell tickets from Minneapolis to Santo Domingo. Why don't they just say so instead of proposing inane routes?
I checked Delta and they actually had some reasonable flights with only one stop in Atlanta. We ended up buying our tickets on American. Eduardo should have enough miles for a free trip after this one.
While I generally am not a big fan of large corporate mergers, last night I decided I welcome Delta eating up Northwest. First, Delta is going to have to offer lots of cheap flights from Minneapolis to Atlanta as a gateway to Latin America and Europe to fill the gap left by Northwest's demise. Second, having an airline that has enough presence in Latin America to offer Minnesotans another choice besides American Airlines will hopefully drive prices down and not make it prohibitively expensive for Johan to spend time with his Domo family.
As a side note, Johan, Evelyn and I spent the afternoon at an Ecuadorian festival today. Choclos con queso; volibol on a cement court; sancocho and chicharron; dust all over my feet from the dirt path leading to the festival-- it was pretty much like going to Ecuador (or how I imagine it). And it was way less than $7000.00.
Last night Eduardo and I bought our tickets to the DR for Christmas. It will be my first trip there since 2004, which is insane since I used to spend all my school holidays and summers there. Before we bought our tickets on American Airlines, I checked around with some other airlines, just to see if they had any better deals.
Northwest Airlines is the predominant airline out of Minneapolis airport, so I wondered what they might have to offer, especially in light of the recent merger with Delta, which has a strong presence in Latin America.
The tickets from MSP - Santo Domingo costs $7000.00. That's seven THOUSAND. For coach. And food for purchase. Even more ridiculous is the proposed route: Fly from Minneapolis to Amsterdam; Amsterdam to Paris; and Paris to Santo Domingo. w. t. f. Northwest clearly does not want to sell tickets from Minneapolis to Santo Domingo. Why don't they just say so instead of proposing inane routes?
I checked Delta and they actually had some reasonable flights with only one stop in Atlanta. We ended up buying our tickets on American. Eduardo should have enough miles for a free trip after this one.
While I generally am not a big fan of large corporate mergers, last night I decided I welcome Delta eating up Northwest. First, Delta is going to have to offer lots of cheap flights from Minneapolis to Atlanta as a gateway to Latin America and Europe to fill the gap left by Northwest's demise. Second, having an airline that has enough presence in Latin America to offer Minnesotans another choice besides American Airlines will hopefully drive prices down and not make it prohibitively expensive for Johan to spend time with his Domo family.
As a side note, Johan, Evelyn and I spent the afternoon at an Ecuadorian festival today. Choclos con queso; volibol on a cement court; sancocho and chicharron; dust all over my feet from the dirt path leading to the festival-- it was pretty much like going to Ecuador (or how I imagine it). And it was way less than $7000.00.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Funny
Speaking of sports, this is a story my friend Angelo told me last night.
Angelo and his 4-year-old son Dominick watching TV.
Angelo: Dom, who's that on the TV?
Dominick: Brett Favre.
Angelo: No, Dom! That's Adrian Peterson!
Dominick: Oh, I thought it was Brett Favre when he used to be black.
Angelo and his 4-year-old son Dominick watching TV.
Angelo: Dom, who's that on the TV?
Dominick: Brett Favre.
Angelo: No, Dom! That's Adrian Peterson!
Dominick: Oh, I thought it was Brett Favre when he used to be black.
8.8.08
I meant to write about the summer Olympics on opening day which was 8.8.08, but time got away from me. The title of the post is staying the same so get over it.
I love the summer Olympics. Swimming, diving, sprinting, gymnastics, even putting the shot. There's something about the summer Olympics that seems like an equalizer. Whereas to compete in winter Olympics, you definitely need equipment like skates, skis, snowboards, bobsleds, boots, etc., if you really want to kick ass at the summer Olympics, you really just need feet. Sure, gymnastics, bicycling, and swimming are still sort of elitist sports--renting gym or pool time and buying a high-quality bike and related equipment are expensive. But there are plenty of sports in the summer Olympics that aren't inherently expensive. This is probably why more than double the number of countries are represented at summer Olympic games that at the winter games.
At the 2004 summer games, there was some break-out Dominican kid named Felix who won a bunch of the track events. It was awesome because no one ever heard of him and he was just fast as hell. One of the reasons I love watching the Olympics is for the great unknown athletes that come and kick the American, Chinese, and Russian asses. This is a phenomenon that will henceforth be called the "Felix Phenomenon." You heard it here first.
I love the summer Olympics. Swimming, diving, sprinting, gymnastics, even putting the shot. There's something about the summer Olympics that seems like an equalizer. Whereas to compete in winter Olympics, you definitely need equipment like skates, skis, snowboards, bobsleds, boots, etc., if you really want to kick ass at the summer Olympics, you really just need feet. Sure, gymnastics, bicycling, and swimming are still sort of elitist sports--renting gym or pool time and buying a high-quality bike and related equipment are expensive. But there are plenty of sports in the summer Olympics that aren't inherently expensive. This is probably why more than double the number of countries are represented at summer Olympic games that at the winter games.
At the 2004 summer games, there was some break-out Dominican kid named Felix who won a bunch of the track events. It was awesome because no one ever heard of him and he was just fast as hell. One of the reasons I love watching the Olympics is for the great unknown athletes that come and kick the American, Chinese, and Russian asses. This is a phenomenon that will henceforth be called the "Felix Phenomenon." You heard it here first.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
The Baby with Changing Faces
Our sweet, easy-going, go-with-the-flow Johan seems to be morphing into a different baby. More demanding, less willing to sit nicely and play with toys so that mom or dad or grandma can take a shower or clean the kitchen floor. I've read that around this time (Johan is 8.5 months), babies get clingier. Fortunately, we have not descended into a hell of Johan refusing to be held or attended to by anyone but me. That's the good news. What he is doing, though, is intermittently demanding to only be held and attended to by a single person-- if he wants to be with me, he screams at Eduardo. And vice versa. He also has a strong attachment to Evelyn and apparently the receptionist at my office. Yesterday when I picked Johan up, he only wanted to stay with Evelyn. Greeaat.
My dad seems to think that this new behavior is because we co-sleep at night with Johan. I don't agree, because he takes naps in his crib without much protest, both at home and at grandparents house.
I'm hoping this is just a phase of neediness and that chill Johan re-emerges in the next few weeks.
My dad seems to think that this new behavior is because we co-sleep at night with Johan. I don't agree, because he takes naps in his crib without much protest, both at home and at grandparents house.
I'm hoping this is just a phase of neediness and that chill Johan re-emerges in the next few weeks.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Open Letter to July
Dear July:
Back in late June, when I said "bring it on" referring to you, I meant for fun and vacation. Not a sick baby with allergic reactions to antibiotics or a car accident with a person who considers semaphores to be suggestions, rather than rules and leaving me wheel-less for almost a week. Back off dude. Let's enjoy each other- it's only once a year for 31 days. Come on now. There's only a few days left. Let's make them good.
Back in late June, when I said "bring it on" referring to you, I meant for fun and vacation. Not a sick baby with allergic reactions to antibiotics or a car accident with a person who considers semaphores to be suggestions, rather than rules and leaving me wheel-less for almost a week. Back off dude. Let's enjoy each other- it's only once a year for 31 days. Come on now. There's only a few days left. Let's make them good.
Monday, July 21, 2008
A Win
Work Comp court is much different than Law and Order court. It's admin law- just judges; no juries. It's more like Judge Judy, if you must have a comparison, but if Judge Judy took off the robe, quit taking caffeine pills, and had control over the volume of her voice.
While jury trials are all 7th Amendment precious, there's something nice about knowing that your case is very likely to be decided only on its merits, and not on whether your client is wearing a juice-stained t-shirt, doesn't speak English, used to be addicted to pain pills, smells bad, or possesses some other trait that would likely affect a jury's neutral evaluation of the issues.
That being said, I sometimes feel like there is a sort of hazing among the small world of work comp law-- I'm the new girl on the block and thus, the judges make me lose (on small matters) so that I stay humble and don't think it's easy as pie. (Trust me, it's not easy.)
So, today when I saw this decision come across my desk, I had to do a double-take. I won! A minor and interlocutory victory, but a victory nonetheless. I like it. And I really like that judge.
Bring on the juice-stained, non-English speaking, smelly recovering addict. Together, we can seize the day.
While jury trials are all 7th Amendment precious, there's something nice about knowing that your case is very likely to be decided only on its merits, and not on whether your client is wearing a juice-stained t-shirt, doesn't speak English, used to be addicted to pain pills, smells bad, or possesses some other trait that would likely affect a jury's neutral evaluation of the issues.
That being said, I sometimes feel like there is a sort of hazing among the small world of work comp law-- I'm the new girl on the block and thus, the judges make me lose (on small matters) so that I stay humble and don't think it's easy as pie. (Trust me, it's not easy.)
So, today when I saw this decision come across my desk, I had to do a double-take. I won! A minor and interlocutory victory, but a victory nonetheless. I like it. And I really like that judge.
Bring on the juice-stained, non-English speaking, smelly recovering addict. Together, we can seize the day.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
The Surreal Law Practice
This happened yesterday:
Receptionist (over the intercom): Kristina, ________ _________ (client) is here to see you.
Me: I don't have an appointment with her today!
Receptionist: She says she has to sign some papers to sign but is a little bit late.
Me: Ok...hang on. (looking at our client database to try and remember who this person is.)
Me: Oh, Christ. This woman had an appointment on March 1! Well, I still have the papers so I'll be right down.
(looking for and finding the check and release client had to sign & going downstairs to meet client.)
Me (to client): Uh, ____, you're 4 and a half months late!
Client: (sheepish laughter). Yes, I am a bit late. Kristina, you really like people on time, yes?
Me: Yes, yes, I guess I do.
Receptionist (over the intercom): Kristina, ________ _________ (client) is here to see you.
Me: I don't have an appointment with her today!
Receptionist: She says she has to sign some papers to sign but is a little bit late.
Me: Ok...hang on. (looking at our client database to try and remember who this person is.)
Me: Oh, Christ. This woman had an appointment on March 1! Well, I still have the papers so I'll be right down.
(looking for and finding the check and release client had to sign & going downstairs to meet client.)
Me (to client): Uh, ____, you're 4 and a half months late!
Client: (sheepish laughter). Yes, I am a bit late. Kristina, you really like people on time, yes?
Me: Yes, yes, I guess I do.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Best Weekend Yet of 2008
My birthday was on Friday and it was about as opposite as it could have been from last year's birthday.
My birthday last year consisted of bar exam review class; work; no cocktails (pregnancy-related abstinence); no friends or family in town (except Eduardo, who counts a lot, but who was at work); and a major bar exam related stress meltdown. Other than a coffee-chocolate malt Eduardo brought me after work on July 11, 2007, my 26th birthday was a bust.
This year was not. This year I was surrounded by a proportionally large number of my favorite people including Eduardo, Johan, Sarah, and my dad. Also Charlie, who I like very much, but who I have not spent quite enough time with for him to have achieved favorite person status. Nevertheless, the day involved a morning drive up to the cabin, many delicious cocktails, an outrageous salad bar at the Serviceman's Club; more cocktails; a torrential thunderstorm/windstorm/monsoon that lasted for all of 10 minutes; and an impressive campfire despite wet wood and difficult wind. It was a great birthday, and a great way to start being 27.
On Saturday, we had a water ceremony for Johan. It was really lovely and absoluteley perfect for us. It had just enough spiritual/religious elements for Eduardo the Catholic to acknowledge that it was a baptism, yet was not so religious as to cause discomfort for the secular humanists, atheists, and fake Jews among us. Most importantly, it was really quite moving for so many people in Johan's life to bestow him with wishes for his life and future.
Also great to have finally sealed the deal with Sarah. It's codified now. Sarah, you can't quit being my friend now, because it's official. We are comadres.
I hope all of 27 is as great as the first 3 days of it.
My birthday last year consisted of bar exam review class; work; no cocktails (pregnancy-related abstinence); no friends or family in town (except Eduardo, who counts a lot, but who was at work); and a major bar exam related stress meltdown. Other than a coffee-chocolate malt Eduardo brought me after work on July 11, 2007, my 26th birthday was a bust.
This year was not. This year I was surrounded by a proportionally large number of my favorite people including Eduardo, Johan, Sarah, and my dad. Also Charlie, who I like very much, but who I have not spent quite enough time with for him to have achieved favorite person status. Nevertheless, the day involved a morning drive up to the cabin, many delicious cocktails, an outrageous salad bar at the Serviceman's Club; more cocktails; a torrential thunderstorm/windstorm/monsoon that lasted for all of 10 minutes; and an impressive campfire despite wet wood and difficult wind. It was a great birthday, and a great way to start being 27.
On Saturday, we had a water ceremony for Johan. It was really lovely and absoluteley perfect for us. It had just enough spiritual/religious elements for Eduardo the Catholic to acknowledge that it was a baptism, yet was not so religious as to cause discomfort for the secular humanists, atheists, and fake Jews among us. Most importantly, it was really quite moving for so many people in Johan's life to bestow him with wishes for his life and future.
Also great to have finally sealed the deal with Sarah. It's codified now. Sarah, you can't quit being my friend now, because it's official. We are comadres.
I hope all of 27 is as great as the first 3 days of it.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Cereal
I love cereal with milk. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, I can do it for any of those meals.
I prefer unsweetened cereals- favorites include Bran Flakes (no raisins); Grape Nuts; Grape Nuts Flakes; Wheaties; Crispix. It is pretty incredible how few choices for unsweetened cereals there are. Yesterday the grocery store was out of Bran Flakes, and I browsed for a new choice. I finally settled on Wheaties- located on the bottom shelf with numerous other boring, reject cereals. Another bothersome reality in cereal shopping is how difficult it is to find cereals without high fructose corn syrup (boo, corn syrup is BAD). Even Wheaties has corn syrup. It's a real shame. I'm sure all the organic versions of cereals are corn-syrup free but I can't really justify $7 for a box of cereal.
The most recent and exciting thing that has developed in my relationship with cereal is a switch to plain soy milk. I am not going dairy-free. Good lord. I'm not crazy. But, between cottage cheese, yogurt, cheese, and the occasional ice cream, I think I'm getting enough dairy.
So, I tried soy milk. Here's why it's perfect. Soy milk is creamier than low fat milk. I'd venture to say that it's as creamy as whole milk or even half-and-half (which, everyone knows is totally delicious on cereal. Don't judge. You know it is). But the soy gives the creamy texture and rich flavor without the milk fat and the cholesterol. Plus, it makes the whole meal seem so much healthier- 1/2 way to the 25g of soy protein recommended with just a bowl of delicious cereal.
As an added bonus, in Minnesota, a half-gallon of soy milk is quite a bit cheaper than of milk. We grow soy beans here. I'm cheap. I'm a convert.
And ready for an evening snack. Cereal, anyone?
Note: Suggestions for other unsweetened cereals are welcome. High fructose corn syrup need not apply.
I prefer unsweetened cereals- favorites include Bran Flakes (no raisins); Grape Nuts; Grape Nuts Flakes; Wheaties; Crispix. It is pretty incredible how few choices for unsweetened cereals there are. Yesterday the grocery store was out of Bran Flakes, and I browsed for a new choice. I finally settled on Wheaties- located on the bottom shelf with numerous other boring, reject cereals. Another bothersome reality in cereal shopping is how difficult it is to find cereals without high fructose corn syrup (boo, corn syrup is BAD). Even Wheaties has corn syrup. It's a real shame. I'm sure all the organic versions of cereals are corn-syrup free but I can't really justify $7 for a box of cereal.
The most recent and exciting thing that has developed in my relationship with cereal is a switch to plain soy milk. I am not going dairy-free. Good lord. I'm not crazy. But, between cottage cheese, yogurt, cheese, and the occasional ice cream, I think I'm getting enough dairy.
So, I tried soy milk. Here's why it's perfect. Soy milk is creamier than low fat milk. I'd venture to say that it's as creamy as whole milk or even half-and-half (which, everyone knows is totally delicious on cereal. Don't judge. You know it is). But the soy gives the creamy texture and rich flavor without the milk fat and the cholesterol. Plus, it makes the whole meal seem so much healthier- 1/2 way to the 25g of soy protein recommended with just a bowl of delicious cereal.
As an added bonus, in Minnesota, a half-gallon of soy milk is quite a bit cheaper than of milk. We grow soy beans here. I'm cheap. I'm a convert.
And ready for an evening snack. Cereal, anyone?
Note: Suggestions for other unsweetened cereals are welcome. High fructose corn syrup need not apply.
Saturday, July 5, 2008
America
I didn't barbecue for the 4th of July. It doesn't mean I don't love freedom, though. I do, really.
Highlights of this weekend include:
-- a parade where Johan had his picture taken with Sen. Amy Klobuchar. Apparently one of Johan's favorite activities is having pictures taken with Democrat politicians at parades. His sense of civic engagement is really applaudable.
-- Eduardo's and my first *date* since Johan was born. A baseball game, complete with Bud Lights for $6.75. See, we do love freedom.
--Watching from my patio as my neighbors light their illegal fireworks. Who needs to go to a show? Let the show come to me, even if they did have to drive to Wisconsin to get the goods. I'm glad interstate travel is one of our cherished freedoms.
-- Rum and diet coke at noon today while playing blocks in the front yard and talking on the phone. What the hell. I'm free.
--Sushi with things like crab and avocados, as well as extra pickled ginger. My sushi preferences may be pedestrian, and I'm ok with that. In fact, I think it makes me more of an American. I am free and can buy a whole damn jar of pickled ginger if I want to. And avocados. And no raw fish.
This is America.
Highlights of this weekend include:
-- a parade where Johan had his picture taken with Sen. Amy Klobuchar. Apparently one of Johan's favorite activities is having pictures taken with Democrat politicians at parades. His sense of civic engagement is really applaudable.
-- Eduardo's and my first *date* since Johan was born. A baseball game, complete with Bud Lights for $6.75. See, we do love freedom.
--Watching from my patio as my neighbors light their illegal fireworks. Who needs to go to a show? Let the show come to me, even if they did have to drive to Wisconsin to get the goods. I'm glad interstate travel is one of our cherished freedoms.
-- Rum and diet coke at noon today while playing blocks in the front yard and talking on the phone. What the hell. I'm free.
--Sushi with things like crab and avocados, as well as extra pickled ginger. My sushi preferences may be pedestrian, and I'm ok with that. In fact, I think it makes me more of an American. I am free and can buy a whole damn jar of pickled ginger if I want to. And avocados. And no raw fish.
This is America.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
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Summer in Minnesota
There's not much that's better, particularly spending weekends out of the city at a lake home or cabin.
I remember last summer when I was in bar exam review class. I didn't leave the city any weekend, and when I would drive home from work at 5pm on a Friday and the roads were empty, I would feel so resentful of how everyone but me had already fled the city for the lake, and how I was the only one who had to just stay home and study all weekend instead of sipping cocktails on pontoon boats.
Not this year, folks. This July, we are going to be at the lake 3 of the 5 weekends. First Mille Lacs for Johan's baptism; then Brita's place in Alexandria; then a place my mom rents on a chain of lakes near Coldspring.
Bar exams vs. cocktails and lake-front cabins with my family and friends? No contest. Come on July, I'm ready for you.
I remember last summer when I was in bar exam review class. I didn't leave the city any weekend, and when I would drive home from work at 5pm on a Friday and the roads were empty, I would feel so resentful of how everyone but me had already fled the city for the lake, and how I was the only one who had to just stay home and study all weekend instead of sipping cocktails on pontoon boats.
Not this year, folks. This July, we are going to be at the lake 3 of the 5 weekends. First Mille Lacs for Johan's baptism; then Brita's place in Alexandria; then a place my mom rents on a chain of lakes near Coldspring.
Bar exams vs. cocktails and lake-front cabins with my family and friends? No contest. Come on July, I'm ready for you.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
My Job & My Insanity & My Salad (3 unrelated topics)
There are many changes at work recently- an experienced paralegal (who guided me through a lot of the stuff I am still learning to do) is gone; one of the attorneys at my office is moving to Arizona which is going to open the door for me to add more criminal defense to my practice (something I enjoy and is important to me), but that is going to be on top of the cases I already have. In true Type A form, I will rise to the occasion. But, it's all sort of daunting.
Bizarrely, also have become preoccupied (obsessed?) with a horrible and devastating and sickening child abuse case in L.A. I stumbled across it in reading some NYT online headlines last week and have since not been able to get it out of my mind. It's not that news stories of kids getting abused didn't used to bother me, but I think that since becoming a parent, I have become much more sensitive to this stuff. I cannot get this poor little boy and this tragic, sickening story out of my head. Some examples: I am following the court appearances of his mother and her friends on the LA County Jail website. (Bail is set at $1,100,000. Not reasonable? Good.) I e-mailed Tom at MySpace and demanded that he disassemble the MySpace pages of these people. (So far, the page is still there.)
I realize my reaction is kind of insane, and I'm not entirely sure how to account for it. I think it's my feeling of utter helplessness. I feel angry and sad that I can't help that little kid; that I can't make it all better. All I can do is love my own little boy (which I do, big time, of course). And email Tom at MySpace, apparently. Uggh. (Note to self: Do not accept any child abuse cases in your expanding criminal defense practice. Zealous advocacy? I think not.)
Finally, and much less freakishly, I am constantly searching for the perfect salad, and last night I found a contender: mixed spring greens; candied pecans; warm goat cheese; and a slightly spicy-citrusy vinaigrette. Delish.
Bizarrely, also have become preoccupied (obsessed?) with a horrible and devastating and sickening child abuse case in L.A. I stumbled across it in reading some NYT online headlines last week and have since not been able to get it out of my mind. It's not that news stories of kids getting abused didn't used to bother me, but I think that since becoming a parent, I have become much more sensitive to this stuff. I cannot get this poor little boy and this tragic, sickening story out of my head. Some examples: I am following the court appearances of his mother and her friends on the LA County Jail website. (Bail is set at $1,100,000. Not reasonable? Good.) I e-mailed Tom at MySpace and demanded that he disassemble the MySpace pages of these people. (So far, the page is still there.)
I realize my reaction is kind of insane, and I'm not entirely sure how to account for it. I think it's my feeling of utter helplessness. I feel angry and sad that I can't help that little kid; that I can't make it all better. All I can do is love my own little boy (which I do, big time, of course). And email Tom at MySpace, apparently. Uggh. (Note to self: Do not accept any child abuse cases in your expanding criminal defense practice. Zealous advocacy? I think not.)
Finally, and much less freakishly, I am constantly searching for the perfect salad, and last night I found a contender: mixed spring greens; candied pecans; warm goat cheese; and a slightly spicy-citrusy vinaigrette. Delish.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
This Week
Well, last week I guess, since Sunday we start anew. Last week was the first time since starting to practice law that I had what I would classify as a shitty week. No major events but a bunch of minor defeats, unfair happenings, and reactions causing even more unrest made me so relieved when I finally got home on Friday afternoon. Between a client who fired me after I got him everything he wanted and a judge that yelled at me because our receptionist put her on hold, I felt like the universe was aligned against me last week. It was lame. I am hopeful this upcoming week will be better.
Speaking of hope, I am not ok with these commercials for some cars (Dodges and Jeeps, I think?) that offer the promise of $2.99 gasoline for the first 3 years you own your new car. This offer seems utterly void of hope. Like, regardless of the possibility of a whole new direction for this country come November 4 (or January when he takes the oath), Dodge/Jeep want you to buy into the dejected belief that nothing can changed for the better so the only way to get reasonably priced gas is to buy their cars, even though you probably can't afford it. Boo Dodge and Jeep.
And boo to last week. But unlike Dodge and Jeep, I remain hopeful about the future. This upcoming week. And this upcoming four years.
Speaking of hope, I am not ok with these commercials for some cars (Dodges and Jeeps, I think?) that offer the promise of $2.99 gasoline for the first 3 years you own your new car. This offer seems utterly void of hope. Like, regardless of the possibility of a whole new direction for this country come November 4 (or January when he takes the oath), Dodge/Jeep want you to buy into the dejected belief that nothing can changed for the better so the only way to get reasonably priced gas is to buy their cars, even though you probably can't afford it. Boo Dodge and Jeep.
And boo to last week. But unlike Dodge and Jeep, I remain hopeful about the future. This upcoming week. And this upcoming four years.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Line of The Week
"If you like a T on your BLT, you know that elections matter." - Al Gore
Why wasn't he this clever/funny 8 years ago?
Why wasn't he this clever/funny 8 years ago?
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Tim
Tim Russert's death has my heart feeling heavy. I am an MSNBC addict and spend a portion of nearly every evening of my life listening to these pundits and commentators talk politics. Tim Russert, in my mind, was always a great one, not so much for the objectivity that everyone seems to be lauding, but for his passion. You could hear it in his voice. He loved politics just as much as I do. I always felt that if he and I ever met, we would get along really well because of this passion we share. His sudden and untimely death makes me sad for his family and also sad that he won't be here to experience this election; the election that he described as the most important in a generation.
Yesterday evening there was a memorial photo/video montage set to Springsteen featuring Tim with a bunch of important politicians. When it came to a picture of Tim interviewing Barack Obama from late 2007 or early this year, my eyes became fixed on the screen and I thought, "Tim didn't get to see us elect the first black president." He knew how important this election was going to be; that it's going to be historic.
Now, I don't claim to be psychic but I do sometimes have an uncanny intuition about certain things. While watching this montage with the footage of Obama, I got an overwhelmingly strong sense that I was looking at pictures of our new President.
I wish Tim was going to be around to analyze election night. It won't be the same without him.
Yesterday evening there was a memorial photo/video montage set to Springsteen featuring Tim with a bunch of important politicians. When it came to a picture of Tim interviewing Barack Obama from late 2007 or early this year, my eyes became fixed on the screen and I thought, "Tim didn't get to see us elect the first black president." He knew how important this election was going to be; that it's going to be historic.
Now, I don't claim to be psychic but I do sometimes have an uncanny intuition about certain things. While watching this montage with the footage of Obama, I got an overwhelmingly strong sense that I was looking at pictures of our new President.
I wish Tim was going to be around to analyze election night. It won't be the same without him.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
The Penumbra
Knowing I need to update this little project, I thought about blogging about my resolution of Kindercare-gate, or about my affection for soy milk. Those are coming, but right now, I want to write about the past 10 minutes of Hardball with Chris Matthews.
Matthews has been hosting a panel including _____ Kennedy-Townsend, Ellen Moran, and Cecile Richards (Ann Richards' daughter) to talk about the election and women voters. While McCain likes to portray himself as a maverick and an independent mind, he is frighteningly backward on issues of women's health and other issues that are traditionally "important to women" (education, children's health, social services, avoiding nuclear war etc).
This panel was smart, interesting, and in-depth. They know what they are talking about. It seems that McCain has been on the opposite side of almost every issue that Planned Parenthood takes a position on since becoming a Senator. I usually like Matthews' sharp wit and unwillingness to let people get away with bullshit answers. Matthews did a decent job of moderating until one of the panelists (the Kennedy, I think) started talking about real memories of people that older women know who underwent illegal, dangerous, back alley abortions before Roe v. Wade. This conversation seemed to make Matthews uncomfortable; the lofty issues reduced to the graphic reality of what a world without Roe v. Wade was and would be like. Kennedy was right to frame the issue in this way, and it's really the only way to talk honestly about it.
The legal reasoning in Roe v. Wade is flawed. I remember the first time I read the whole opinion--my law school friends and I were dumbfounded to find that this dear and precious right to our own bodies was based on such tenuous reasoning. The penumbra in the Constitution. Oh, christ, we said to each other over blueberry pancakes, it's a shadow. And shadows can disappear just as easily as they appear.
But any woman over 45 or 50 has to remember the horror stories of what some women suffered and died before Roe v. Wade. Sometimes abortion seems like a passe issue--not as sexy as talking about relations with the Middle East or gay marriage, but this brief panel discussion reminded me of one of those basic rights that we may have come to take too much for granted.
How about a wire hanger on the door of every woman who is considering voting for McCain? Just a reminder...
Matthews has been hosting a panel including _____ Kennedy-Townsend, Ellen Moran, and Cecile Richards (Ann Richards' daughter) to talk about the election and women voters. While McCain likes to portray himself as a maverick and an independent mind, he is frighteningly backward on issues of women's health and other issues that are traditionally "important to women" (education, children's health, social services, avoiding nuclear war etc).
This panel was smart, interesting, and in-depth. They know what they are talking about. It seems that McCain has been on the opposite side of almost every issue that Planned Parenthood takes a position on since becoming a Senator. I usually like Matthews' sharp wit and unwillingness to let people get away with bullshit answers. Matthews did a decent job of moderating until one of the panelists (the Kennedy, I think) started talking about real memories of people that older women know who underwent illegal, dangerous, back alley abortions before Roe v. Wade. This conversation seemed to make Matthews uncomfortable; the lofty issues reduced to the graphic reality of what a world without Roe v. Wade was and would be like. Kennedy was right to frame the issue in this way, and it's really the only way to talk honestly about it.
The legal reasoning in Roe v. Wade is flawed. I remember the first time I read the whole opinion--my law school friends and I were dumbfounded to find that this dear and precious right to our own bodies was based on such tenuous reasoning. The penumbra in the Constitution. Oh, christ, we said to each other over blueberry pancakes, it's a shadow. And shadows can disappear just as easily as they appear.
But any woman over 45 or 50 has to remember the horror stories of what some women suffered and died before Roe v. Wade. Sometimes abortion seems like a passe issue--not as sexy as talking about relations with the Middle East or gay marriage, but this brief panel discussion reminded me of one of those basic rights that we may have come to take too much for granted.
How about a wire hanger on the door of every woman who is considering voting for McCain? Just a reminder...
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Obama
The time has come. I am officially endorsing Barack Obama for President, for whatever it's worth. Hillary has made her decision to suspend her campaign and throw her support to Obama, and I am doing the same. I implore other Clinton supporters to join Obama as well. As Sarah said earlier today, "It's time to work really really hard between now and November." I am on my way to Obama's website to join the ranks, and I hope that you will all welcome this Clinton-lover into your fold.
I am here for the duration. Go Obama. Go America.
I am here for the duration. Go Obama. Go America.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
What's Next
Last night Hillary asked supporters to go to her website and share their thoughts for what should come next. So, I went. I was a little disturbed by the comments of many who said they would vote for McCain over Obama, not vote, and/or made all sorts of other extreme and extremely childish threats, and accusations about Obama.
I am guessing most of the people who wrote are the fringe, and I hope that most Hillary supporters will put the party and country first, get over their disappointment and move on.
Out of respect for Senator Clinton, I am not going to officially join the Obama campaign until she suspends her campaign, endorses Obama, or at least makes a decision.
This is what I put on her website:
Dear Hillary:
I have supported you from the beginning, despite most of my family and friends supporting Obama. I am not entirely your demographic, but nevertheless, I have always felt that no one would be a better president than you. However, now that Obama has enough delegates, I think it's time to re-strategize. Staying the course doesn't seem like a realistic or smart option. Running as an independent? No, we're Democrats. Taking it to the convention? No, that almost ensures a McCain victory.
Are you interested in VP? Then go for it. I could also see you as Secretary of State or a Supreme Court Justice. Whatever you do, I know it will be great and I know that this country is a better place with you on our side.
Best,
Kristina Lund Alcantara
I am guessing most of the people who wrote are the fringe, and I hope that most Hillary supporters will put the party and country first, get over their disappointment and move on.
Out of respect for Senator Clinton, I am not going to officially join the Obama campaign until she suspends her campaign, endorses Obama, or at least makes a decision.
This is what I put on her website:
Dear Hillary:
I have supported you from the beginning, despite most of my family and friends supporting Obama. I am not entirely your demographic, but nevertheless, I have always felt that no one would be a better president than you. However, now that Obama has enough delegates, I think it's time to re-strategize. Staying the course doesn't seem like a realistic or smart option. Running as an independent? No, we're Democrats. Taking it to the convention? No, that almost ensures a McCain victory.
Are you interested in VP? Then go for it. I could also see you as Secretary of State or a Supreme Court Justice. Whatever you do, I know it will be great and I know that this country is a better place with you on our side.
Best,
Kristina Lund Alcantara
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Johan's Travels
I promised "a couple" pictures and then only posted one. Here are a couple more.
a little jet lag...
after some grub and a power nap, where should we go on our next trip?
a little jet lag...
after some grub and a power nap, where should we go on our next trip?
Monday, June 2, 2008
Home Again, Home Again
Well, Johan and I have been back from LA for almost a week, and since then, have had numerous other adventures (visits from Kindness Mother Sarah & from Jamie), and many of the photos from our vacay are posted on facebook.
I am including a couple just to prove Johan has now been to the coast. He loved the ocean just as much as I do. It's funny because I'm happiest living in Minneapolis, but I feel the most at peace with myself and with the world when I'm standing at the edge of the sea. Any-hoo, Johan, too, was captivated by the sea. See?
Despite a stuffy nose, Johan was a great traveler. He was quiet and happy on the airplane and seemed to enjoy people-watching at the airport. This is great news since we have big plans to keep travelling, and it's probably a good idea to bring the baby with us.
Now that we are home, and both Sarah and Jamie have gone, I am feeling a little melancholy. It could be the clouds, the wind, the thought that it may be quite awhile until we see the LA friends again. Time seems bigger when you are thinking about it in baby-time. I mean, a few days with good friends once a year seems great, but when I think about seeing these folks in another 12 months, Johan will be a year and a half old! For some reason, that seems a lot longer.
In short, Dear LA friends: please come visit. We miss you already.
I am including a couple just to prove Johan has now been to the coast. He loved the ocean just as much as I do. It's funny because I'm happiest living in Minneapolis, but I feel the most at peace with myself and with the world when I'm standing at the edge of the sea. Any-hoo, Johan, too, was captivated by the sea. See?
Despite a stuffy nose, Johan was a great traveler. He was quiet and happy on the airplane and seemed to enjoy people-watching at the airport. This is great news since we have big plans to keep travelling, and it's probably a good idea to bring the baby with us.
Now that we are home, and both Sarah and Jamie have gone, I am feeling a little melancholy. It could be the clouds, the wind, the thought that it may be quite awhile until we see the LA friends again. Time seems bigger when you are thinking about it in baby-time. I mean, a few days with good friends once a year seems great, but when I think about seeing these folks in another 12 months, Johan will be a year and a half old! For some reason, that seems a lot longer.
In short, Dear LA friends: please come visit. We miss you already.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Glory
I'm a little tipsy after having spent a lovely evening with my wife.
But this warrants a posting.
Glory, man, seriously.
Not only is Johan never going back to Kindercare but instead will spend Mondays with his dear Red Wine Grandma, but my dissatisfaction has caused a friend from law school to re-think sending her little baby girl to that wretched place.
One song, glory.
If I was a "good" person, I would be happy just knowing that Johan isn't going back. And, I am. But I have to say that I also feel a sense of satisfaction that they are losing another potential client/student over this, and it gives me some fodder for my strongly worded letter yet to be penned.
Glory, man. One song, glory. One last refrain: I totally love winning.
But this warrants a posting.
Glory, man, seriously.
Not only is Johan never going back to Kindercare but instead will spend Mondays with his dear Red Wine Grandma, but my dissatisfaction has caused a friend from law school to re-think sending her little baby girl to that wretched place.
One song, glory.
If I was a "good" person, I would be happy just knowing that Johan isn't going back. And, I am. But I have to say that I also feel a sense of satisfaction that they are losing another potential client/student over this, and it gives me some fodder for my strongly worded letter yet to be penned.
Glory, man. One song, glory. One last refrain: I totally love winning.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
The Latest in Johan
1) Eduardo has vetoed finding a caregiver for our son on craiglist. Fine. We have a couple of leads with people we sort of know (like sisters of friends, etc.) How this will play out remains to be seen.
2) Johan is now almost a master of independent sitting and is working on scooting. Our hardwood floors are conducive to moving quickly with just a few pushes of the hands, and he's getting good. He can only go backwards though. My dad asked if that means he's going to vote for Hillary. Damn. That's harsh, Dad.
3) Johan doesn't like to sleep on Wednesday nights. I've started keeping track and for the past 4 weeks, he wakes up in the middle of the night only on Wednesdays and wants to play. Little weirdo.
4) Tomorrow is Johan's 1st flight. Wheeeeeeee!
2) Johan is now almost a master of independent sitting and is working on scooting. Our hardwood floors are conducive to moving quickly with just a few pushes of the hands, and he's getting good. He can only go backwards though. My dad asked if that means he's going to vote for Hillary. Damn. That's harsh, Dad.
3) Johan doesn't like to sleep on Wednesday nights. I've started keeping track and for the past 4 weeks, he wakes up in the middle of the night only on Wednesdays and wants to play. Little weirdo.
4) Tomorrow is Johan's 1st flight. Wheeeeeeee!
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Overreacting?
I'm looking for some feedback here because, when it comes to Johan, I think I don't have a lot of objectivity. Here's the situation: yesterday my mom picked Johan up from his daycare center where he goes 3-4 times per month. I don't want to defame it but it rhymes with Linderlare. When she arrived, Johan was swaddled in a blanket laying in a crib, wide awake. These are the problems: It is common knowledge among parents and anyone involved with babies that swaddling is not recommended past a month or 6 weeks old. Johan needs to have his arms and legs free to move. He doesn't even like being dressed in clothes, let alone bound up in a blanket. Also, I pay a lot of money for him to go there, under the auspices that he is being cared for, not left in a crib while awake.
What had got me even angrier is the director's response when I called to discuss my concerns. I remained level headed, using an indoor voice, and other that mentioning that it sounded "a little Romanian orphanage," I totally kept my cool. Yet, instead of trying to actually address my concerns, the director was full of excuses: "He wasn't swaddled that tightly;" "The regular head teacher in the baby room wasn't there today;" "He wasn't crying."
Well, jeesh. The tightness of the swaddling is not the effing point. The point is swaddling at all is not appropriate for 6-month-old babies. Regarding the head teacher, shouldn't all of the staff know policies regarding wrapping up babies so that they can't use their arms? Finally, Johan often doesn't cry when he wakes up, but I don't think that makes it okay to just let him lay around in a crib all day.
So, am I overreacting? I understand that daycare providers are paid really shittily, and I am sensitive to the problem of the parent-that-bitches-about-everything since I worked in a Montessori school for many years. Yet, this situation has got me really bothered--both what they did and how they responded to my concerns.
I have reached out on facebook and craiglist to find alternate care for Johan a couple Mondays a month. We're going to California on Friday, so for at least the next 2 weeks, Johan's arms and legs will be to kick, grab, and flail all he wants.
What had got me even angrier is the director's response when I called to discuss my concerns. I remained level headed, using an indoor voice, and other that mentioning that it sounded "a little Romanian orphanage," I totally kept my cool. Yet, instead of trying to actually address my concerns, the director was full of excuses: "He wasn't swaddled that tightly;" "The regular head teacher in the baby room wasn't there today;" "He wasn't crying."
Well, jeesh. The tightness of the swaddling is not the effing point. The point is swaddling at all is not appropriate for 6-month-old babies. Regarding the head teacher, shouldn't all of the staff know policies regarding wrapping up babies so that they can't use their arms? Finally, Johan often doesn't cry when he wakes up, but I don't think that makes it okay to just let him lay around in a crib all day.
So, am I overreacting? I understand that daycare providers are paid really shittily, and I am sensitive to the problem of the parent-that-bitches-about-everything since I worked in a Montessori school for many years. Yet, this situation has got me really bothered--both what they did and how they responded to my concerns.
I have reached out on facebook and craiglist to find alternate care for Johan a couple Mondays a month. We're going to California on Friday, so for at least the next 2 weeks, Johan's arms and legs will be to kick, grab, and flail all he wants.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Monday, May 12, 2008
6 months (minus 3 days)
We are still working on posting the picture with Keith Ellison. The delay is related to the fact that the picture is not on my camera. For now, these will have to do:
Sunday, May 11, 2008
INFJ
Ok, so I just took a new Myers Briggs test. I am an INFJ -- Introverted, iNtuitive, Feeling, Judging. I think I have always been FJ, but I was right that I am now an "I."
Breaking it down, I'm very strong I, N, and J, but a weak F. On Myers Briggs, Feeling is juxtaposed with Thinking. So I guess it's ok to be weak on F since it must mean I spend some time thinking, as well.
Breaking it down, I'm very strong I, N, and J, but a weak F. On Myers Briggs, Feeling is juxtaposed with Thinking. So I guess it's ok to be weak on F since it must mean I spend some time thinking, as well.
Myers Briggs
I've taken the Myers Briggs test several times in my life. When I was a kid and a *youth*, I was a strong "E" for extrovert. I was never shy and always loud, so that made sense. I used to think that introverted meant shy and quiet. At some point in my life, someone told me that introverted doesn't really mean shy and quiet. Rather, an introvert is someone who gets their strength and energy from solitude and calm, and an extrovert as someone who is energized by being in groups and with others.
I like those definitions and I think I used to be an extrovert. For several years, though, I have been suspecting that I was morphing into an "I" for introvert. Not shy; not quiet, but someone who needs solitude and quiet to become energized. Today I am sure.
My first Mother's Day was nice but very busy and loud, with several family functions and a lot of running around. By 3:00, I felt totally beat. Like, I could barely keep my eyes open or drag my tired self from the car to the house. But the moment sat down on my couch with a lemonade and a book, I suddenly wasn't tired anymore. The quiet, the solace, and the sun slanting down through the trees and into my living room all gave me energy. I have, therefore, re-classified myself as an introvert.
I bet, however, that if I re-took Myers Briggs, I would still be "judging", rather than "perceiving." Some things never change.
I like those definitions and I think I used to be an extrovert. For several years, though, I have been suspecting that I was morphing into an "I" for introvert. Not shy; not quiet, but someone who needs solitude and quiet to become energized. Today I am sure.
My first Mother's Day was nice but very busy and loud, with several family functions and a lot of running around. By 3:00, I felt totally beat. Like, I could barely keep my eyes open or drag my tired self from the car to the house. But the moment sat down on my couch with a lemonade and a book, I suddenly wasn't tired anymore. The quiet, the solace, and the sun slanting down through the trees and into my living room all gave me energy. I have, therefore, re-classified myself as an introvert.
I bet, however, that if I re-took Myers Briggs, I would still be "judging", rather than "perceiving." Some things never change.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
If you...
and your wife decide that she should stay at home to care for your children, that's just great for you.
Your choice.
I will try not to judge.
Honestly.
But don't then come to work and tell the mothers who work in and outside their homes how much your wife has to do and how she can't possibly have a job because she has to "raise the kids."
Kids get raised. Some people do it well. Some people do it less well. But even if their moms have jobs, they get raised. Somehow we find the time to earn a living and give our kids love and attention and kisses.
I'm not saying it's bad to stay home and take care of your kids. But when you work with a bunch of women who spend 40-55 hours a week at the office and then go home to families in need of attention, homes in need of cleaning, laundry in need of washing, food in need of cooking, don't look for a round of applause for all the work your stay-at-home wife does.
I'm just saying.
Your choice.
I will try not to judge.
Honestly.
But don't then come to work and tell the mothers who work in and outside their homes how much your wife has to do and how she can't possibly have a job because she has to "raise the kids."
Kids get raised. Some people do it well. Some people do it less well. But even if their moms have jobs, they get raised. Somehow we find the time to earn a living and give our kids love and attention and kisses.
I'm not saying it's bad to stay home and take care of your kids. But when you work with a bunch of women who spend 40-55 hours a week at the office and then go home to families in need of attention, homes in need of cleaning, laundry in need of washing, food in need of cooking, don't look for a round of applause for all the work your stay-at-home wife does.
I'm just saying.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
May Day Parade
Minneapolis has a great May Day parade. It's one of the events that makes me proud to be from this state and today was Johan's first one. The weather was perfect and he actually seemed to pay attention to the different costumes and dancers. He particularly seemed to enjoy the drums.
The highlight for me was when Congressman Keith Ellison (our Congressman, first Muslim Congressman in the U.S. House of Representatives, and the subject of my only letter to the editor that has ever been published) came up to us and we had our picture taken with him! His staff photographer took a picture which I am hoping will show up in his quarterly newsletter to his constituents. Ev also took a picture of us with Keith on her camera, which I will post once it is downloaded.
All in all a perfect spring (almost summer?) day.
Also, there were some anarchists on double- and triple-tall bicycles. And some hippies smoking pot and burning sage. It was May Day.
The highlight for me was when Congressman Keith Ellison (our Congressman, first Muslim Congressman in the U.S. House of Representatives, and the subject of my only letter to the editor that has ever been published) came up to us and we had our picture taken with him! His staff photographer took a picture which I am hoping will show up in his quarterly newsletter to his constituents. Ev also took a picture of us with Keith on her camera, which I will post once it is downloaded.
All in all a perfect spring (almost summer?) day.
Also, there were some anarchists on double- and triple-tall bicycles. And some hippies smoking pot and burning sage. It was May Day.
Friday, May 2, 2008
Half a Benny
Today I filled up my gas tank. The empty light was on and it's about a 14 gallon tank.
$50.00. On the nose. That's where the auto-shut-off-thing stopped.
The part of me that loves round, whole dollar numbers so much that I would rather be a few cents ahead on my electric bill by paying, say, $36.00 instead of $35.79 was overshadowed by the part of me that fills with rage at this administration and who starts plotting sit-ins and gas station protests about $3.50 per gallon of gas.
The summer I got my driver's license, gas fluctuated between 85 cents and 99 cents. Are we sure Bill Clinton can't just be President again?
$50.00. On the nose. That's where the auto-shut-off-thing stopped.
The part of me that loves round, whole dollar numbers so much that I would rather be a few cents ahead on my electric bill by paying, say, $36.00 instead of $35.79 was overshadowed by the part of me that fills with rage at this administration and who starts plotting sit-ins and gas station protests about $3.50 per gallon of gas.
The summer I got my driver's license, gas fluctuated between 85 cents and 99 cents. Are we sure Bill Clinton can't just be President again?
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Tip for Coffee Addicts
My coffee addiction continues to become more intense. I think I have found a solution. It acts as a coffee booster. So, for example, with this *product,* my energy levels raise to acceptable levels with only 2 cups of coffee, rather than 4.
It's 80s rock. Think Scorpions, Kansas, Quiet Riot, Guns N Roses. I'm telling you, cranking this shit up in the morning works together with the coffee to get the day started out right.
And, on Live365.com, it's totally free.
Never underestimate the power of 80s rock.
It's 80s rock. Think Scorpions, Kansas, Quiet Riot, Guns N Roses. I'm telling you, cranking this shit up in the morning works together with the coffee to get the day started out right.
And, on Live365.com, it's totally free.
Never underestimate the power of 80s rock.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
A Minority of One
Am I the only one who found Jeremiah Wright's speech to the NAACP fascinating, brilliant, and hilarious? My dad, Johan, I watched the whole thing, and were absolutely enthralled. The way he spoke about linguistics, etymology, ethnomusicology made me understand why Obama would sit in the church pew listening to this guy for 20 years- the dude is enthralling.
In sum, the NAACP speech made me 1) like Barack Obama more; 2) wish I was still in college; and 3) wish that I was studying ethnomusicology or some other liberal arts junk.
Maybe when Barack Obama is President, we can all talk about etymology, ethnomusicology, and hegemony all day long without having to dole out 40K a year to do so. A girl can dream.
In sum, the NAACP speech made me 1) like Barack Obama more; 2) wish I was still in college; and 3) wish that I was studying ethnomusicology or some other liberal arts junk.
Maybe when Barack Obama is President, we can all talk about etymology, ethnomusicology, and hegemony all day long without having to dole out 40K a year to do so. A girl can dream.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Weekend Highlight
2 brothers at a birthday party. One liberal, one conservative. Both like to drink and argue about politics. Loudly. The following ensues:
Conservative Brother: What's all this shit about reparations. I didn't do anything to the blacks or the Indians!
Liberal Brother: But, it's not really about you. It's about what the U.S. government did to these people for centuries.
Conservative Brother: But I wasn't even alive! I didn't vote for any of those politicians who did those things!
Liberal Brother: Yeah, but you probably would have.
Conservative Brother: What's all this shit about reparations. I didn't do anything to the blacks or the Indians!
Liberal Brother: But, it's not really about you. It's about what the U.S. government did to these people for centuries.
Conservative Brother: But I wasn't even alive! I didn't vote for any of those politicians who did those things!
Liberal Brother: Yeah, but you probably would have.
Friday, April 18, 2008
It's hard work caring about the environment.
While at Target a couple days ago, Eduardo and I finally broke down and bought a bunch of energy smart, swirly-go-round light bulbs. Cheap as I am, it broke my heart to shell out $26 for 8 light bulbs. But, the deed is done. I felt proud of us. We got home and Eduardo started replacing the light bulbs in our house with the new, green ones.
To my disappointment, the light that comes from these bulbs is a dingy, unpleasant yellow. I broke down and removed the energy-efficient bulbs from the bathroom, my bedroom and Johan's room. Who wants to wake up in the morning and look in the bathroom mirror in a horribly unflattering light? Or turn on the bedroom light to get dressed and be jolted awake by a harsh and unforgiving interrogation light?
The other problem is that our house has dimmer switches which are great when one has a baby (like built in night lights), but these don't work with the energy-efficient bulbs.
I'm not trying to be an earth-hater, but I feel slightly duped by the greenies. They finally convince me to spend grocery money on light bulbs without fully disclosing the weaknesses of these lights.
Any suggestions for how to be environmentally and energy responsible and still be able to enjoy soft lighting?
To my disappointment, the light that comes from these bulbs is a dingy, unpleasant yellow. I broke down and removed the energy-efficient bulbs from the bathroom, my bedroom and Johan's room. Who wants to wake up in the morning and look in the bathroom mirror in a horribly unflattering light? Or turn on the bedroom light to get dressed and be jolted awake by a harsh and unforgiving interrogation light?
The other problem is that our house has dimmer switches which are great when one has a baby (like built in night lights), but these don't work with the energy-efficient bulbs.
I'm not trying to be an earth-hater, but I feel slightly duped by the greenies. They finally convince me to spend grocery money on light bulbs without fully disclosing the weaknesses of these lights.
Any suggestions for how to be environmentally and energy responsible and still be able to enjoy soft lighting?
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
OTC
I used to never understand why it was such a big deal when medications previously available only with an Rx became over-the-counter. I mean, so what? A co-pay for a prescription is about the same as the price of name brand medications OTC. Yet, there were major advertising campaigns when Claritin and Prilosec became available without a prescription.
Let me tell you why it's a big deal. For those of us with high-deductible medical insurance, it's the difference between $20 at Target for the Zyrtec versus $300 for a visit to an allergist + $20 at the Target pharmacy for Zyrtec. Allergy season has begun and today I will march proudly into Target and purchase ZyrtecOTC for the first time. I even have a $2 coupon.
This is probably only the first of many rants about health insurance that will be coming your way in the next few months. The health care industry, the fact that it is even an "industry" at all, and the fact that my family's medical bills are making it impossible for me to save any money have got me all worked up.
But at least I can get my allergy medicine for less than a tank of gas. Or is that instead of a tank of gas? Damn, the economy sucks.
Let me tell you why it's a big deal. For those of us with high-deductible medical insurance, it's the difference between $20 at Target for the Zyrtec versus $300 for a visit to an allergist + $20 at the Target pharmacy for Zyrtec. Allergy season has begun and today I will march proudly into Target and purchase ZyrtecOTC for the first time. I even have a $2 coupon.
This is probably only the first of many rants about health insurance that will be coming your way in the next few months. The health care industry, the fact that it is even an "industry" at all, and the fact that my family's medical bills are making it impossible for me to save any money have got me all worked up.
But at least I can get my allergy medicine for less than a tank of gas. Or is that instead of a tank of gas? Damn, the economy sucks.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Personal Appearances
I am no Carrie Bradshaw, fashion-wise. While I can sometimes clean up nice, my natural inclination is to be pretty sloppy.
Example 1: I am getting my haircut this morning for the first time since October. I would like to blame this on being a busy new mom but I usually go at least 4-6 months between haircuts.
Example 2: The other day at work, some folks were laughing about some other attorney wearing pants with the bottoms frayed because they were so old. I took a mental inventory of my pants (work, jeans, and leisure pants) and realized that at least half of them are frayed.
Example 3: Both of my good suit coats are currently covered in vomit. This one I can blame on Johan but it should be noted that I said "both" of my good suit coats. I'm a lawyer and am pretty much supposed to wear suits every day I go to work. You do the math.
For today, though, I am so excited to get my hair cut.
Example 1: I am getting my haircut this morning for the first time since October. I would like to blame this on being a busy new mom but I usually go at least 4-6 months between haircuts.
Example 2: The other day at work, some folks were laughing about some other attorney wearing pants with the bottoms frayed because they were so old. I took a mental inventory of my pants (work, jeans, and leisure pants) and realized that at least half of them are frayed.
Example 3: Both of my good suit coats are currently covered in vomit. This one I can blame on Johan but it should be noted that I said "both" of my good suit coats. I'm a lawyer and am pretty much supposed to wear suits every day I go to work. You do the math.
For today, though, I am so excited to get my hair cut.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Question:
Do people study abroad in Uruguay? I met some people from Uruguay yesterday (I asked if they were Argentine due to all that pronouncing "y" like "zh", but turns out that's not unique to Argentina) and got to thinking that I have never heard of anyone studying abroad in Uruguay. No U of Montevideo?
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Tofu!
Despite living in California for 3 years with mainly folks from the west coast, I was never a fan of tofu. I even spent 2000-2001 living in a dorm/apartment with a group of girls who were, unbeknownst to us, dubbed the Granola Girls. You cannot imagine the amount of tofu that was consumed by all of them. I never had any interest in the stuff. The texture grossed me out; it had no flavor. I resisted all the forces around me and did not give in to tofu.
While I was pregnant, my step mom, dad, and I were out for Thai food and we ordered a fried tofu appetizer with sweet and sour sauce. It was good. It was fried; how could it not be good? But, after that experience, I couldn't stop thinking about it. Tofu? Me? In the months that followed, I ordered pad thai with tofu a couple of times.
Then came today. I had bought a block of firm tofu. It sat in my fridge for a couple days. Upon Moira's return from vacay, she (as tofu's biggest champion) sent me a recipe for baked tofu. I followed it. I ate it. I liked, nay loved it.
This is the story of tofu triumphing against all odds. When I was a granola-girl college student living on the west coast surrounded by vegetarians and hippies, tofu could not break me. Now that I am now sort-of yuppified wife, mom, lawyer living in the midwest, tofu and I have found each other.
It took a long time, but we have made our peace, tofu and me. Today, it was baked tofu over salad greens and tomatoes with balsamic vinegar. Whow knows about tomorrow? The future is beckoning, and tofu and I are hand in hand, ready to take on the world.
While I was pregnant, my step mom, dad, and I were out for Thai food and we ordered a fried tofu appetizer with sweet and sour sauce. It was good. It was fried; how could it not be good? But, after that experience, I couldn't stop thinking about it. Tofu? Me? In the months that followed, I ordered pad thai with tofu a couple of times.
Then came today. I had bought a block of firm tofu. It sat in my fridge for a couple days. Upon Moira's return from vacay, she (as tofu's biggest champion) sent me a recipe for baked tofu. I followed it. I ate it. I liked, nay loved it.
This is the story of tofu triumphing against all odds. When I was a granola-girl college student living on the west coast surrounded by vegetarians and hippies, tofu could not break me. Now that I am now sort-of yuppified wife, mom, lawyer living in the midwest, tofu and I have found each other.
It took a long time, but we have made our peace, tofu and me. Today, it was baked tofu over salad greens and tomatoes with balsamic vinegar. Whow knows about tomorrow? The future is beckoning, and tofu and I are hand in hand, ready to take on the world.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Are you two going to the park too?
Clearly the events of the past few days have me reeling since I just noticed that I wrote "affects" as a noun, rather than "effects." While my punctuation is a victim of Microsoft Word, I pride myself on knowing the difference between
-affect & effect
-to, too, & two
-their, there,& they're
-bear & bare.
In fact, in first grade I was the only one in my class to already know the 3 different uses of to, too, & two when that lesson began. That was before I learned Spanish and figured out there was also "tu."
Anyway, I am totally irritated when people don't know the differences between such words. Thus, while I had decided to not apologize for my writing, I do apologize for the grammatical error.
Happy April. It snowed a fucking mountain here last night. The effects of winter are affecting me.
-affect & effect
-to, too, & two
-their, there,& they're
-bear & bare.
In fact, in first grade I was the only one in my class to already know the 3 different uses of to, too, & two when that lesson began. That was before I learned Spanish and figured out there was also "tu."
Anyway, I am totally irritated when people don't know the differences between such words. Thus, while I had decided to not apologize for my writing, I do apologize for the grammatical error.
Happy April. It snowed a fucking mountain here last night. The effects of winter are affecting me.
Monday, March 31, 2008
War (Re-published)
War
I'm not sure how to write about this.
Maybe it's none of my business. Maybe I ought not to air other people's dirty laundry. But, I'm going to because I am angry and I think this is worth being discussed.
The effects of this war are hitting closer to home: a young guy I know well is an Iraq vet. He spent time in Fallujah and saw things I can't even begin to wrap my head around. He's only 24 now and so, while there a few years ago, his brain was presumably still developing. Since his return, he's struggled with anger, depression, and alcohol abuse. While the VA is "available" to help with these things, there exists a dangerous combination of long wait lists to access services combined with young veterans who have been cultured to think they ought to just pull themselves up by the bootstraps and get on with their lives. Pushing the anger deeper down like vinegar in a model volcano. But add a touch of baking soda and they explode.
Two nights ago, this veteran's anger did just that. In an alcoholic and consuming blind rage, he beat his girlfriend up. It is absolutely awful. There is, of course, no excuse for his behavior. I am angry with him and cannot believe this boy I have known my whole life could behave in such a horrific way.
And, perhaps, that's the saddest part of this whole thing. I know him. Knew him. While he was by no means a perfect angel before Iraq, he was not violent. While our family has a strong propensity toward chemical addiction, before Iraq he did not fly into blind alcoholic rages.
While it does not excuse what he has done, he is suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I am angry with him for not demanding help as soon as he got home from the war. I am angry with the government for not requiring intensive extended therapy for combat veterans. I am angry with this administration for creating yet another generation of young people who have experienced the horrors of war and will spend the rest of their lives struggling to recover and unable to fully overcome what war does to the human psyche.
Troops in or troops out; 90 days or 90 years, we have only begun to see the devastation of this war on troops, their families, and our whole country.
I hope that the civilian judge who sentences him orders psych and chemical evaluations and counseling. Maybe the civilian courts can try to begin to mend what never should have been allowed to fall this far apart.
I'm not sure how to write about this.
Maybe it's none of my business. Maybe I ought not to air other people's dirty laundry. But, I'm going to because I am angry and I think this is worth being discussed.
The effects of this war are hitting closer to home: a young guy I know well is an Iraq vet. He spent time in Fallujah and saw things I can't even begin to wrap my head around. He's only 24 now and so, while there a few years ago, his brain was presumably still developing. Since his return, he's struggled with anger, depression, and alcohol abuse. While the VA is "available" to help with these things, there exists a dangerous combination of long wait lists to access services combined with young veterans who have been cultured to think they ought to just pull themselves up by the bootstraps and get on with their lives. Pushing the anger deeper down like vinegar in a model volcano. But add a touch of baking soda and they explode.
Two nights ago, this veteran's anger did just that. In an alcoholic and consuming blind rage, he beat his girlfriend up. It is absolutely awful. There is, of course, no excuse for his behavior. I am angry with him and cannot believe this boy I have known my whole life could behave in such a horrific way.
And, perhaps, that's the saddest part of this whole thing. I know him. Knew him. While he was by no means a perfect angel before Iraq, he was not violent. While our family has a strong propensity toward chemical addiction, before Iraq he did not fly into blind alcoholic rages.
While it does not excuse what he has done, he is suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I am angry with him for not demanding help as soon as he got home from the war. I am angry with the government for not requiring intensive extended therapy for combat veterans. I am angry with this administration for creating yet another generation of young people who have experienced the horrors of war and will spend the rest of their lives struggling to recover and unable to fully overcome what war does to the human psyche.
Troops in or troops out; 90 days or 90 years, we have only begun to see the devastation of this war on troops, their families, and our whole country.
I hope that the civilian judge who sentences him orders psych and chemical evaluations and counseling. Maybe the civilian courts can try to begin to mend what never should have been allowed to fall this far apart.
There Once Was A Post...
I had written some things over the weekend that I feel were more about my feelings about the war and the far-reaching effects of it, but that were a response to some things that have happened. It wouldn't have made much sense to write an abstract essay about PTSD without some context. So, if you read my blog Saturday or Sunday, you saw it.
But, I was more or less asked to remove it by an anonymous comment, so out of respect to whomever that was, I did.
But, I was more or less asked to remove it by an anonymous comment, so out of respect to whomever that was, I did.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
At this very moment...
I am listening to Johan "self-soothe." This is code for letting him cry himself to sleep. It is very sad. He is 4.5 months and the pediatrician/evil monster says he needs to learn to fall asleep on his own, not in my arms. So we are trying. Now. She says to leave him cry for up to a half hour. She clearly has no soul. I say 5 minutes. Any longer than that, and he's not ready to sleep yet.
As I write this, the cries are tapering off. Listening, listening... It's now been quiet for 30 seconds. It sounds by the lack of sound that he is falling asleep.
I've been waiting. It's been a few minutes. The room is quiet. Success.
Johan's ability to self-soothe? check.
My ability to not pick him up the second he makes a peep? check.
We win.
As I write this, the cries are tapering off. Listening, listening... It's now been quiet for 30 seconds. It sounds by the lack of sound that he is falling asleep.
I've been waiting. It's been a few minutes. The room is quiet. Success.
Johan's ability to self-soothe? check.
My ability to not pick him up the second he makes a peep? check.
We win.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Judging J. Lo.
The other day I was skimming the People magazine article and photo spread of J. Lo and the new babies. They aren't actually that cute. So far, they look much more like dad than mom. Bummer for them. Anyway, in response to a question about why she is not nursing, she says something like, "Everyone reads up and decides what's best for their baby."
Bullshit. There is no article ANYWHERE that says formula is better than breast milk. ANYWHERE. I think the federal government even requires formula companies to preface all their ads and materials with "breast milk is best." So, unless J. Lo. paid some folks to write some materials just for her about why formula is better, I call bullshit.
Of course to nurse or not to nurse is an intensely personal decision and the "better person" in me would live and let live. But, as someone who is away from my child for 50+ hours a week and still successfully nurses without pumping while I am away, I feel like I am in a place to judge J. Lo's lies.
She isn't choosing to not nurse them because it's better for them. She's chosen to bottle feed so her tits remain as perky as her ass. She's insured and has to make her moneymaker last. I can appreciate that, but at least tell the truth about it.
Kids who aren't breastfed tend to get sicker than those who are. They are far more likely to have food and environmental allergies. And they tend to be fatter kids. Wouldn't it be poetic justice if the J. Lo twins ended up continuing looking like their dad (FUG-ly), and were little fat sausages with perpetually runny noses and severe allergies to peanuts and shellfish. The nerdiest of all combinations possible. It would serve J. Lo right for putting perked boobs ahead of her children's well-being.
Now I will go back to my day, and I'd like to say the judging is over. But we all know it probably isn't.
Bullshit. There is no article ANYWHERE that says formula is better than breast milk. ANYWHERE. I think the federal government even requires formula companies to preface all their ads and materials with "breast milk is best." So, unless J. Lo. paid some folks to write some materials just for her about why formula is better, I call bullshit.
Of course to nurse or not to nurse is an intensely personal decision and the "better person" in me would live and let live. But, as someone who is away from my child for 50+ hours a week and still successfully nurses without pumping while I am away, I feel like I am in a place to judge J. Lo's lies.
She isn't choosing to not nurse them because it's better for them. She's chosen to bottle feed so her tits remain as perky as her ass. She's insured and has to make her moneymaker last. I can appreciate that, but at least tell the truth about it.
Kids who aren't breastfed tend to get sicker than those who are. They are far more likely to have food and environmental allergies. And they tend to be fatter kids. Wouldn't it be poetic justice if the J. Lo twins ended up continuing looking like their dad (FUG-ly), and were little fat sausages with perpetually runny noses and severe allergies to peanuts and shellfish. The nerdiest of all combinations possible. It would serve J. Lo right for putting perked boobs ahead of her children's well-being.
Now I will go back to my day, and I'd like to say the judging is over. But we all know it probably isn't.
Friday, March 21, 2008
It Really Is Scrabulous
I never liked Scrabble, but I could never really pin-point why. I love words and books and other word games, so Scrabble should have been a good match for me. Yet, it was never a game I would choose to play.
Now, I am addicted to Scrabble on Facebook.com, called "Scrabulous." And is it ever. I can't get enough. So, why now? Why at this time; why in this place?
The truth comes forth. It was not the Scrabble I didn't like as a child. It was those pesky tiles. A clumsy girl with below-average motor skills but also a perfectionist committed to order- I wanted the letters to be lined up perfectly in the little boxes; everything straight and in order. Yet, my awkwardness somehow always caused the tiles to be off-kilter and never quite right.
Computerized Scrabble, though, is, in no uncertain terms, Scrabulous. Point and click and make words. No muss, no fuss. No sideways tiles or an accidental kick of the board causing the whole game to go asunder. The tiles are in a perfectly straight line, each one fitting delicately into the custom-sized box on the board it was made for.
I am a Scrabble convert. Racking up points making words with the computerized tiles gives me the same satisfaction as checking items of a list or filling in a matrix. Which is a lot.
Now, I am addicted to Scrabble on Facebook.com, called "Scrabulous." And is it ever. I can't get enough. So, why now? Why at this time; why in this place?
The truth comes forth. It was not the Scrabble I didn't like as a child. It was those pesky tiles. A clumsy girl with below-average motor skills but also a perfectionist committed to order- I wanted the letters to be lined up perfectly in the little boxes; everything straight and in order. Yet, my awkwardness somehow always caused the tiles to be off-kilter and never quite right.
Computerized Scrabble, though, is, in no uncertain terms, Scrabulous. Point and click and make words. No muss, no fuss. No sideways tiles or an accidental kick of the board causing the whole game to go asunder. The tiles are in a perfectly straight line, each one fitting delicately into the custom-sized box on the board it was made for.
I am a Scrabble convert. Racking up points making words with the computerized tiles gives me the same satisfaction as checking items of a list or filling in a matrix. Which is a lot.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Girl Scout Cheese
I am hungry for something savory and the only thing at my desk are Girl Scout cookies. While delicious in their own right, I am really not in the mood for sweets. I'm in a mood for something you could get from a deli, but it's that time of day when it would be ridiculous to leave work and go to a deli and then come back to work for another, what, 15 minutes? So I stay at work. And eat a Girl Scout cookies. And curse those little girls for not selling Girl Scout cheese. They could even give it a cute little Girl Scout name. Swiss cheese could be Hole-y Rollers; cheddar could be Sunshine Blast; Dill Havarti could be Herby Freckles. Mmm....Girl Scout cheese...delicious...
Friday, March 14, 2008
Freaks of Nature
Today I cracked an egg into the frying pan for breakfast and was surprised to see two yolks. This is the first time I have ever had an egg with double yolks and I was actually pretty disgusted by this. Identical twin scrambled eggs? It seems unnatural for two yolks to be enclosed in one shell. I didn't realize I thought this was gross until I saw both yellow circles starting to cook in a disproportionately small amount of white. I have friends who are disgusted by dairy products touching their skin. Maybe this is similar?
The lawyer in me wonders if the egg container should contain a warning that if you get an egg with double yolks, that means double cholesterol. Are they exposing themselves to liability?
I quickly scooped one of the yolks directly into the garbage, less because of the cholesterol and more because I couldn't stand to look at it.
The lawyer in me wonders if the egg container should contain a warning that if you get an egg with double yolks, that means double cholesterol. Are they exposing themselves to liability?
I quickly scooped one of the yolks directly into the garbage, less because of the cholesterol and more because I couldn't stand to look at it.
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