Thanksgiving

I try hard to avoid serious posts. Even when I'm complaining, I try to see the humor in what I'm complaining about. Because when all is said and done, most of our everyday annoyances are, to some extent, silly or at the very least learning experiences in which we can find some humor. Of course, there are exceptions.

This Thanksgiving was bittersweet. I'm thankful for my family and my friends, my safety and my health. Like everyone, I grieve for St. Louis and the events that have recently torn our city in two, highlighting the enormous divide within various parts of St. Louis.

The protests have died down for the most part, but they're still there. The weather has warmed for a couple of days, so doubtless there will be more - both protests and violence - over the weekend. Protesting is far more sustainable when you don't have to face the specter of frostbite.

This past week's events have been devastating and have interrupted the lives of thousands if not millions. I don't condone the looting and violence in any way, but St. Louis is a city divided and has been for a very long time. If you drive down Delmar, you'll see it. To the south of it, mansions in gracious, historic gated communities. To the north, vacant buildings once beautiful, desolate empty lots.

So yes, I'm thankful for my home, my health, my family. I'm also hopeful that these recent acts of violence and outrage stop and instead create something productive and healthy. Though the realist in me knows it's unlikely, the optimist hopes this produces something good. And I would like to be a part of it.

A special kind of dis-ease

The verdict from the grand jury was announced this evening. It was bad. Not as many people committing violence, but the few people that were violent were - and are - very violent indeed. Seeing the businesses burning, the unrest, the looting, the senseless violence in Ferguson is heartbreaking.

It's confusing as well. There is no black or white in this situation, no right answer when you ask the wrong question. What was decided was just based on the laws of our country; but the circumstances that created the situation to which the law was applied were not.

Rushing around after being evacuated from my work building (which is about a mile from where the "action" is occurring) to get my children, whose schools were closing early, made me feel sick, uneasy. The school across the street from my daughter's had closed because someone called in a bomb threat. The public school my son attends was closing early as well because of similar threats.

What good does burning a building do? Watching someone else's life go up in flames? Forcing local schools, government offices and businesses to close? I hope this is an opportunity to talk, and not an opportunity for a small, violent few to take away chances and choices from people who so desperately need them.

In short: this blows.

TGIF??

Today is Friday. Part of me wants to rejoice. Part of me wants to roll my eyes. Mostly because it's Thanksgiving. Here's a little secret: I hate Thanksgiving. And here's why:

1. It's a day of food. Which is nice, but that also means that you have to cook it. And cooking it takes hours.

2. I love to cook. But I hate turkey. So I'm putting in at least 4-5 hours of effort (excluding cleaning and socializing) to cook something I can't stand. Normally if we don't have family over, I'll spend a couple of hours making homemade orange chicken and fried rice. Oh, well - at least mom and the kids will be happy.

3. I hate to clean. My mom is coming over, so I have to clean the whole place until it's spotless. This is more difficult this year because sine we've had no basement floor since July, the basement is now spread out among my upper floor, which will make things not only harder to clean but also those things that are clean will look messy because of the fact that all this crap is up here and not down there. But hey - silver lining is that I have a clean house.

4. My mom is coming over. Okay, this isn't such a horrid thing. But. Mom at my house = the following annoyances: she's decided she doesn't feel like driving here. So I have to drive three hours to her house to get her and three hours back because she doesn't like driving anymore apparently. I will have to do that this Sunday to get her here. And next Sunday to get her back. She doesn't really care about my schedule so even though I had plans for the weekend, she has decided those are not important. Also, she's judgy. Super judgy and she will complain constantly about the fact that she won't have a door downstairs (we finished the floor in the guest room, but not the trim yet so no place to hang the door without the frame falling over), half my sink in the kitchen is cracked, so we have to use the other half (she doesn't seem to care that we both have jobs and I can't take hours and hours off work to shop, hire someone and hang out so they can replace the sink).

Anyway, you can't stop time or control other people. And compared to what a lot of the world is dealing with, these are relatively minor problems. But I can complain about them. Because that is what blogging is for, apparently. You are welcome.

To prod or not to prod?

That is the question. The kids are at school and preschool, respectively. (Evelyn turned five yesterday(!) and of course must now bring sugary goodness - more of it - to her friends at preschool prior to indulging in more of it tomorrow.) My husband is...asleep. Somehow I knew this would happen if I didn't make him drive the kids to school. At the same time, I wanted some time to myself. The climbing wall opens in just over an hour and he may or may not want breakfast and a shower beforehand.

So that leaves me with my question: to prod, or not? I'm leaning toward prodding; otherwise we'll either meander toward lunch instead of the climbing wall, then my husband will be too lethargic to climb. Or we'll climb, but things will be cut short because we'll do it so late we'll run out of time or steam and will leave to pick up the kids.

One way or the other, any path with an acceptable result seems to lead to poking the living hell out of the man until he gets his butt out of bed. He's home for my birthday, dammit. I WILL have my climb.

First, I really want to do it. Second, I won't feel so bad tonight if I'm not disciplined enough to get my sorry, overstuffed, over-sugared-to-the-point-of-diabetic butt out for a run in the freezing cold or on the treadmill downstairs where I get to stare at the cabinets for an hour in a chilly garage. Did I mention I cannot wait until we're done with the floor downstairs?

Hey, there, 39

I didn't see you standing there. Today is my annual birthday post. As you might have guessed, I'm now 39, though if you ask my daughter, I'm 93 (which I hope is just her transposing numbers).

This year has been quieter than most. My mom is stable, we celebrated the coming of a new family member, my nephew Max. My daughter turns 5 tomorrow.

I still don't feel like an adult. At work, I'm always surprised people listen to me because I still feel like I'm in my teens. I'm hoping that if I don't tell myself I'm so close to 40, my body won't catch on. After all, if I'm old, I can't run 5Ks with my son. If I'm old, surely I wouldn't have built that giant playhouse out of boxes last night (complete with three windows and a door). No way would I still love my husband like I did the day I met him - probably more - and enjoy talking to him as much.

Nope, I'd be a crotchety old lady, stuck in my chair telling kids to get off my damn lawn. When I was little, I remember 26 being my magic number for "oldness." I'm not too worried about hitting 40. If I keep going like I am, I'll be fitter than I have been since I was 29 and happier and more confident of myself.


So, what am I doing to ring in the last year of my 30s? I'm spending today by myself, shopping for my daughter's birthday, which is tomorrow, then shopping for new running shoes for myself. Then I'll break them in with a trail run or I'll go for a swim at the Y before I spend the remainder of my afternoon looking at books, then going to parent-teacher conferences in the afternoon. My husband and I will spend the whole day with Evelyn tomorrow for her birthday just like we do with Rags - after all, how often can they say they get our undivided attention? Usually only when they've screwed up. Then the day after that, I'm going to a climbing wall with my husband. I'm petrified of heights, but mostly uncontained heights. I think I can handle this. And even if I'm not certain, I'll do it anyway. 

I'm starting to wonder if people don't tell other people their age because they can't quite believe it themselves. What makes people feel so young? I still can't put my finger on it. Is it knowing that there are things out there (lots of them) that we haven't done that scare us but there's still ample opportunity to push ourselves? Maybe it's that yawning knowledge that there's so much you don't know. Whatever it is, I'll take it. So here's to another year of not knowing what the heck I'm doing, to needing to know so much more, to pushing myself. Here's to another year of whatever it is that's going to happen. May it make me stronger, better and may I never stop being surprised by my own age.

Disappointing

This has been a very disappointing week. Congress was taken by the Republicans, who are now spouting a message of unity and bipartisanship after having spent years blocking as many Democratic policies as possible. I just hope they're sincere. But I'm fairly confident that they'll use this as an opportunity to forward whatever anti-women, xenophobic, big corporation agenda they have. Which blows. If they practiced what they preached and were more inclusive I would consider them as potentially vote-worthy. My problem is that I don't understand their logic.

Poor people don't deserve insurance - they need to get it themselves with no government help. Well, if you're poor, the last thing you can afford is health insurance, particularly if you're food insecure and not sure if you'll have a place to live if you commit the sin of taking care of yourself. There's no pulling yourself up by your bootstraps in a situation like that.

Women shouldn't be able to control their own bodies - instead, they should be controlled by a bunch of white male policy makers with no medical credentials. You know, to fix the problem of the single mother freeloading off the government, because that's incredibly common. Keep telling yourself that.

And somehow big business will take pity on the working class and...do what? Not screw them over? Not in this lifetime, and not without regulation.

Anyway, I'm disappointed and afraid of the next few years. I'm concerned that the quality of my children's education will suffer from an anti-science body of lawmakers as well.

So there was that. Then the middle of the week brought a large amount of layoffs at work, a few of which impacted our team. Since we are involved in government healthcare, which comes with non-negotiable deadlines and a heavy workload, we lost a smaller percentage than others, but losing people is always hard.

The thing is, from a management perspective, I totally get it. The way we practice business has been somewhat inefficient and we need to knock it off to be profitable. But from a personal perspective, it's unsettling, causes confusion and fear and it wasn't done well. Anyway, all in all a shitty week. I was glad last night to get home, play with my children and eat a meal with my husband, who I don't get to spend nearly enough time with.

Things about Me that Others Apparently Find Entertaining

I'm working from home today, so naturally I blog for a few minutes on the side. There's so much political nonsense going on at work, that all my meetings with real content have been rescheduled until next week. Damned restructuring. So, here's more fluff for your reading pleasure. Does anyone actually read this? Oh, well - since I always make fun of other things, here's what people make fun of me for:

1. My obnoxious need to text in full sentences with grammatically correct punctuation. I can't help myself - I don't mind the occasional slip. I make plenty of them. But a medium seemingly designed to encourage poor grammar drives me bathshit. Same for instant messaging.

2. My hair. It's wild and curly and sort of long-ish. Rags used to call me "Hair" when he was a toddler. Even at 8, he still runs his fingers through my hair sometimes when he's tired. Like my completely unpronounceable last name, it's a conversation piece.

3. My supposed freakouts. Apparently at work people think I'm incredibly calm. So when they're on calls with me and I say, "Geez - I sure was snotty," evidently I'm just being firm. I guess my screaming is all in my head. And on my blog.

4. My unfortunate habit of laughing hysterically in my sleep. My husband thinks I'm an axe murderer. So far he hasn't been proven right.

5. My dichotomous need for routine and spontaneity. I'll drop everything to take a weekend hiking trip. I've climbed the Incan trail before just for shits and giggles. But if you keep me from my morning cup of coffee, I will hurt you. Or wake me before or after my 5:30 to 6:30 a.m. window and heads will roll. I've been doing both (drinking coffee and waking up at that hour) since I was 8 or 9. I see no reason not to do either. My husband thinks it has to do with a caffeine addiction and martyr complex. But this is just how things should be.

6. I am a huge conspiracy theorist at work. I always assume that we're about to reorg. And I'm always right.

7. My curiosity about celebrity. I don't want to like celebrities. I don't want to be a fan girl. But I can't help but be curious. If you're famous, how in control are you of your own life? You have someone constantly managing your schedule for you, so I'm assuming that means you have someone else deciding when you wake up in the morning, when you get your hair done, when you eat and what you eat and how much you exercise. They tell you where to go, how long to stay there and what to say. If you are offensive, there's someone to make you back down. I've never been particularly famous, but I've been a media spokesperson and have been "press-handled" before. I can't imagine what it would be like to have that all the time. When you become famous, are you a person or a brand? My husband makes fun of me for this - he tells me if I were worth $100 million, I wouldn't care. 

8. I'm still kind of afraid of the dark, and after watching a scary movie or reading a scary book have no qualms about racing from the bathroom to the bed, touching the floor as little as possible so the monsters don't get me. Luckily my husband sleeps more heavily than I do. 

9. I'm easily entertained. Way too easily. This is something my husband seems to both love about me and that makes him scratch his head. It sure the heck makes working with the federal government easier. Same for the occasional child-related bathroom accident. If I can't snicker (much, much later after I'm done swearing under my breath (well out of my child's hearing)) about getting my feet peed on for the nth time, I would lead a very miserable life.

10. I make myself laugh, probably way more than is necessary. It's not because I'm super hilarious to anyone else. Just myself. And I like it that way. 

Oh, well. For those of you still reading, congratulations - I'm done! For today.