Mid-90s Flashback

On my dad's side of the family, we have started a new tradition of getting together one Sunday a month to have brunch and spend some of the day together. It's a good plan.

This last Sunday was the first brunch. After the egg dishes and Norwegian heart-shaped waffles were consumed, we retired to the sun room to watch some old home movies my dad had transferred to DVDs. Fun, right? In order to make sure my niece and nephew were featured in the home movies, we skipped over the 1980s and went straight to the 1990s videos.

Holy Christ was I a bitch. Sassy and sharp-tongued and bossing my brother around like you can't believe. Except if you knew me back then, which a lot of you who read this did. At one point, when my dad was taping us on a vacation in Florida, I spent 5 minutes whining about some video tape of Jamie and me dancing to American Pie on the front lawn and where was that damn movie and why do we tape everything but never watch anything.

Watching an old video of oneself is totally different than looking at old photos. In a snapshot, everyone is usually smiling; there is really no context. A video lays everything out: Christmas of 1995 when I was 14 was a shitty time for me- lots of teenage melodrama. Photos of Christmas '95 don't really tell that story but my snarly responses to my dad and the dejected tone of my voice in the home movies really take a girl back in time.

Now I'm not sure if I want to watch the ones from the 1980s. In retrospect, I consider my childhood a happy one. I was always clothed, fed, loved. But I had a lot of anger and sadness about my parents' divorce and so I wonder if I was as bitchy a child as I was a teen (no question that as a child I was as bossy as when I was a teen, if not more so). I'm definitely going to watch all of the old home movies, but I think it may be better done with a stiff drink in my hand and a willingness to just laugh at myself and remember that, despite my miserable attitude, things did turn out ok for me.

Quiet Saturday Evening Thoughts

It's quiet in my house tonight. Eduardo went to sleep really early and Johan has been sleeping for the 2 past hours. First I took a long hot bath. Now I am hanging around on YouTube for the first time ever. A few weeks ago I caught the last few seconds of a Pink video on VH1 for "Dear Mr. President." This song is actually from 2006 but apparently has received very little airplay and I have never bought a Pink CD so I hadn't heard it. It actually features the Indigo Girls in the studio version, so I'm sort of surprised I didn't even know about it until VH1. Now I am watching the video on YouTube and it's powerful. I'm no music genius and my auditory palate is not particularly sophisticated, but the part toward the end when she repeats "Let me tell you 'bout hard work" sends chills down my back.

I'm glad people are writing these songs. The impending election has got me thinking about the past 8 years. A lot of great things in my personal life, but a lot of terrible things in the world. A lot of them directly and indirectly caused by this president. What's next for this country? Change. Listening to this song makes me yearn for real change so badly. Not just a change in parties. Not just a new president. Change that, for all the hope in the world, isn't going to happen in the next 8 years. Change like no nuclear weapons. Change like no 2nd class citizens. Change like no death penalty. Change like no homelessness. Change like no child abuse.

A country can come a long way. My parents were born in 1951 and 1952. That was before Brown v. Board of Education. That was before the Voting Rights Act. That was before Roe v. Wade. That was only 30 years after the passage of the 18th Amendment. Only 6 years after the end of Nazi Germany. The changes that have happened, both good and bad, since my parents were born make me wonder what will happen in the next 50 years. What will the world look like when Johan is 50? Will any of the changes I yearn for have come to pass? Maybe, maybe not.

Real change, though, is going to happen starting this year. Health care, war, economy, cooperation with other countries...Not everything I want for this country will happen by 2012, but I see a lot of potential for good out on the horizon.

I'm voting for whoever Pink is voting for. Go to YouTube and check out the video.

Tooth Woes

Unlike most of my peers, my wisdom teeth never grew in. High school, College, and Grad School passed without nary a new tooth. Now, at age 26, I have my first- the upper left tooth. It started to come in around New Years and is still only about half-way grown in. Since late December, it has been hurting on and off, and this latest bout of tooth pain is really unbearable. I can't even open my mouth all the way. Here's the dilemma- I don't know if it just hurts because it's still growing in or if it's because it's growing in wrong or because my mouth doesn't have room for it. I have an appointment scheduled to have it removed the first week of March but I'm hoping the pain will go away before that, and I can cancel it.

My doctor says the timing of the "eruption" of my first wisdom tooth just weeks after Johan was born is a mere coincidence. (By the way, I am disgusted by the word eruption when associated with teeth.) But I don't buy it. With all the hormones and changes and calcium-related issues surrounding pregnancy and child-birth, I know that this wisdom tooth is somehow related to Johan's birth. I am totally going to sympathize when he starting cutting teeth. This hurts something fierce.

Wrist Warmers

My dad is just back from a trip to Norway and he brought me wrist warmers. Now, they're very smart looking, hand knit, and comfortable. At first blush, however, it's like, yeah, but why not just wear long sleeves and mittens? I never should have doubted -- Norwegians can always be counted on to know what sort of products are necessary to maintain body heat in the frigid northern winters.

These wrist warmers are amazing. I've had them for 12 hours and now can't imagine how I spent 26 years without them. I know I've heard something about putting an ice pack on the wrist when you are hot can keep one from overheating, but I never realized how important wrists are in the regulation of body temperature. This morning, I put on my wrist warmers and braved the -30 wind chill to get to my car. These little wrist warmers seemed to make my whole body stay warmer as I sat in the cold car waiting for the engine to warm up. Too bad engines don't have wrists.

I'm currently sitting at my computer continuing to wear these brilliant little things. My hands are as toasty as if I had them wrapped around a hot mug of coffee or in a pair of down mittens, yet my fingers and hands are fully usable. Folks, I'm telling you, wrist warmers may be the secret to everlasting happiness. God Bless those innovative Norwegians and their fabulous little secrets to surviving winter.

The Cali in Me

Yesterday, as I was signing some outgoing letters to clients, I noticed that my signature has morphed into "Kristina L___A___," or "Kristina L A." It's mostly because I'm lazy and cannot be bothered to write out Lund Alcantara every time I sign my name. And really, wouldn't that be sort of a waste of time? There's money to be made; people to be saved! Who has time to clearly pen each letter of such a long name? But, while this signature is primarily for convenience's sake, I've decided it's also radical. Kristina L.A. Sounds like I should be famous.

I miss L.A. sometimes. The heat, the smog, the tacos, the ocean, the palm trees, the smell of jizz trees on the quad, the spanish architecture, the hills, the never-ending city, the rain in february, and mostly, college and everything that goes all with that. I can't imagine ever moving back to L.A. and I doubt I ever will, but I will always have a soft spot for it in my heart. So, I guess it's only appropriate to sign my name Kristina L____A____, paying homage to that part of me that sat on the front porch in the winter wearing flip-flops and chain smoking in balmy 50 degree weather. Nevermore, nevermore.

1st Quarter Performance

Johan is 3 months old today. Each quarter, the Fed looks at Wall Street's performance. Well, the economy may be in the toilet, but Johan's performance is on the rise. Passing rattles from one hand to another; laughing out loud; beginning to understand the mysterious world of cause & effect; serious eye contact; making clear audible consonant sounds (ng, g, d, and l). It's been a big 3 months. We expect our investment to continue to show excellent results.

Please Address This Concern

I'm watching MSNBC, as per usual, as the results of the Potomac Primaries (is this usually what it's called when DC, Maryland, and Virginia vote, or is it a new snazzy name for 2008?) come in. Chris Matthews just interviewed the DC mayor, who described part of Obama's appeal as the only one who can be every American's President.

Call me partisan or divisive, but I'm not sure I want my President to be promising to also be the President who will cater to Dick Cheney's needs, or Merck's needs. Part of what I liked about John Edwards was his honesty about the fact that it might sound nice for us all to unite and make friends, it's not actually possible. Sometimes it's about fighting long and hard, not about cooperation.

If you are for the drug companies and insurance companies, you cannot possibly also be for the uninsured and the underinsured. If you are for people who make more than $200,000 per year and want deep tax cuts, you cannot possibly be for people who are trying to raise 3 kids on $20,000 per year and aren't sure how to pay for rent and food at the same time. If you are for the Bible-belt evangelical whose aim is to ensure that gays are never granted all the rights and privileges of citizenship, you cannot also be for those who believe all people really are created equal and should be treated as such.

So, Obama supporters, please address this concern: what does it mean that Obama promises to be every American's president? What's the difference between uniting people and talking out of both sides of your mouth? How can you be my President and Dick Cheney's President at the same time?

Some of why 2008 matters so much...

Sarah sent me this essay, via Kos, over the weekend. I have stood by Hillary, despite Obama's popularity in the polls, media, and among the majority of the family and friends.

It's worth reading.

http://www.womensmediacenter.com/ex/020108.html

In Defense of Pedro Martinez

This news blurb was in the daily e-mail I get with news from the Dominican Republic and pertaining to all things Dominican:

"Dominican baseball legends Pedro Martinez and Juan Marichal have caused a stir this week after a video was released showing them at a cockfight at the Coliseo Gallisto de Santo Domingo. The video, which was posted on YouTube last Friday, shows Marichal and Martinez as 'soltadores' moments before the fight between the two cocks began. In a statement released by the New York Mets, Martinez defended his participation in the match saying that the video was more than two years old. "I understand that people are upset, but this is part of our Dominican culture and is legal in the Dominican Republic. I was invited by my idol, Juan Marichal, to attend the event as a spectator, not as a participant." The video was quickly removed from YouTube, but has made its way around the internet. PETA and the United States Humane Society have both called for sanctions against Martinez. Illegal in the US, cockfighting is legal and extremely popular in the DR."


Cockfights are, indeed, an important part of Dominican culture, and a national pastime, second only to baseball/beisbol. They are also extremely fun, featuring copious amounts of beer, betting, and laughter. And a little blood never hurt anyone (except probably the rooster). The truth is, Dominicans involved in cockfighting take very good care of their roosters and train them like Olympic athletes. The day of the fight, if your rooster dies, you can have it for dinner. If your rooster wins, you will have money to go OUT for dinner.

The suggestion that Pedro Martinez should be sanctioned is absurd. PETA and The Humane Society should be sanctioned for being so intolerant of Dominicans. I'm proud of Pedro Martinez for not kowtowing to crazy PETA activists and for not pretending that when Dominicans go home to the DR, all they do is eat beans and go to the beach. Dominicans go to cockfights and Pedro Martinez owes no apologies for that.

ps. Roosters are annoying anyway.

Seriously Messed Up

I'm not a chronic late sleeper. By senior year of college, I would usually get up by 9 or 10am on the weekends, assuming I wasn't terribly hung over. Now, I am happy to get to sleep until 8:30 or 9 on Saturdays and Sundays. 8:30 feels likes sleeping in because on weekdays, my alarm is set for 5:15am.

But, this morning, I must have turned my alarm off when it woke me, and I shot out of bed at 6am saying "oh shit, I overslept!" and indeed, i had overslept. 6am.

Seriously messed up.

I Love America

Last night Johan and I went the Minnesota caucus. We arrived what I thought would be plenty early at 6:30 pm for the 7 pm meeting. As we approached Anthony Middle School, I saw a line of people trailing through the parking lot and adjacent park and around several blocks. It was about 20 degrees and families were bundled up together standing in the cold Minnesota darkness waiting to caucus. I wrapped Johan in a blanket, stuck him in the Baby Bjorn and off we went to take our place in line. A nice older couple told me to come stand with them, so my wait outside would be shorter and so the baby wouldn't catch "the nip of winter." So we waited. Neighbors chatted; joked about what hearty stock Minnesotans were; and expressed excitement about the impending elections. I wished I had brought my camera.

It was a truly un-cynical experience. Not waiting in line to buy concert tickets or try out for a reality show, but braving the cold (20 degrees is not actually that cold for any real Minnesotan) on a Tuesday night in February to particapte in the caucus. For me, seeing that happen was an almost sacred or holy moment. The sight of the huddled masses waiting in the cold was reminiscent of photos I have seen of Ellis Island circa 1880.

And for all my deeply partisan feelings, I remembered that the reason I really love politics is because it is all about voting, and to me, there is no greater act than casting a ballot in an election. I will always bring Johan with me to vote and to caucus, hoping to instill in him how utterly important it is to participate in America, how the right to vote is something to be protected, cherished, respected so highly that we will stand in the cold for the opportunity.

Ok, I promise not to get so sappy about voting and America again until November.

Once inside the caucus, Johan tried to volunteer to be a delegate to the state convention. He was soundly rejected and then started to whine so we went home. He is also a defiant child, having worn an Obama sticker on the butt of his Baby Bjorn, rather than supporting the candidate his parents backed. Well, Johan's candidate took Minnesota 2-1 and he gloated for the rest of the evening. Feisty little bugger.