Mayhem At The Mall

I just returned from Black Friday shopping. Yes, it only 6am and I am already done. I have survived the onslaught of like-minded holiday shoppers and returned to tell about it. And what do I have to tell? That people care way too much about $5 DVD's. And that I'm grateful that the rental car we have has Maryland plates because there is no way I would have realized that I was trying to get into the wrong tan Sienna if I hadn't been for this small detail. And yes, there was someone waiting for my spot that then watched me move over two spots to the other tan Sienna. The one with the taillights blinking everytime I tried to unsuccessfully unlock the doors of the van I was standing in front of.

Damonn thinks I'm crazy do get up this early to save a few dollars and usually I'd agree, but something was drawing me to that Wal-Mart parking lot this morning that I just couldn't ignore. I thought it was the Blu-ray DVD player for $129, but once I was shoulder to shoulder with the most determined of Roseburg shoppers, I realized what had drawn me here was the social experiment of it all. To watch people levy their carts and manuever their bodies to cut in line for an $8 dollar coat that was normally only $15 all because it was a "Black Friday" special. It is truly corporate marketing at its best.

I have one suggestion for the organizers of Wal-mart black Friday. Ban shopping carts. Make it survival of the fitests. If you can't carry it, you don't buy it. That way I wouldn't have to punch the sweaty post-menapausal woman blocking the aisle with her cart while she digs waist deep in a bin for the pink Mp3 player.

Welcome to the Holiday shopping season everyone!

T-minus 10 Seconds to Turkey Day

After three days of Jamie asking if it is time to go to Roseburger, we are packed and loaded and everyone is whining so yes, Jamie, I believe it is finally time to head to Roseburger. I hope everyone has a happy and hearty Thanksgiving filled with more relatives than you can stand.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Politics, Protest And Power

Saying Adam has a tendency to fly off the handle is a understatement. He can go from helpfully setting the table to a puddle of fury and loathing at the flip of a switch. (I wonder where he gets that from) I just wish I knew where that switch was located. I would find it and layer it in inches of packing tape so that at no time could it be accidentally switched on ever again. And then perhaps our family may be able to consume one dinner in peace - even if (gasp!) pork or pea pods or potatoes or pineapple - or whatever new food he decided he now absolutely detests was being served.

Food, once again, was the catalyst for such dire emotions as we left their daycare last night. Damonn was going to a Blazer's game with a friend so we were on our own for dinner. I announced that we were going to McDonald's and waited for the cheers and confetti. Instead I received a proclamation from Adam that we were going to "Volunteer and have a battle between McDonald's and Shari's". After several clarifying questions into what in the hell he was talking about, I came to the conclusion that he wanted to vote (not volunteer) on where we ate dinner. I hate Shari's. I hate everything about Shari's. From the way that everything is served luke warm, to the apparent pool of grease that everything is cooked in, to the ridiculous price they ask you to pay for such fare. But being the proponent of democracy that I am, and knowing full well that Jamie will always pick McDonald's, I agreed to his suggestion.

So how did Adam take to his democratic loss? Let's just say there was less anger and mayhem after the Rodney King verdict than there was in the back seat of our car last night. And the range of tactics he used to first persuade our votes and then push for a re-vote was quite impressive. But when he ended his tirade in saying that voting Shari's actually meant McDonald's and vice-versa so really Shari's had won, I just had to laugh. Politics is definitely in his future. Or maybe a future in defending such politicians.

But the night didn't end there, folks. Oh no. Because I don't take kindly to a five-year old holding a personal political protest in my back seat, I made the executive decision to have PB&J at home. By the time we pulled into the driveway his "kid power" fist in the air shenanigans had turned to the calmer approach of civil disobedience. He now refused to get out of the car. Again, his tactics were impressive, his stamina. . . . not so much. Within about 90 seconds of Jamie and I leaving him for the warmth of our kitchen he was following behind, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

The Man will always win, Adam. You have to be The Man to beat The Man. Only then will you be able to rule with all the evil that you possess.

It's The Little Things That Squeak Up On You

Yesterday I noticed that the steering wheel in my car is making this faint, little mouse-of-a squeak when I make a turn. Today the strap on my laptop case started squeaking with the rhythm of my walk down the street. This afternoon my right shoe began squeaking with every step. All of this makes me fear that my life is on the verge of coming loose at the seams. Either that or it's just my brain grinding to a halt.

Tension Breaker

We were all hungry and getting a bit grouchy this morning as we drove back from visiting the Children's Museum. After asking, reminding and then demanding several times that the kids keep their hands to themselves and quit the incessant screeching I reached my breaking point when Adam tilted his head and gave me a smirk that said, "Really? What can you actually do to me speeding down the road buckled into a car?"

I turned to Damonn and muttered under my breath, "If we don't get out of this car I am going to wipe that fucking grin off his face!"

Adam apparently heard me and instantly shrieked, "Aaaww! I heard you! You said Millennium Falcon!"

Damonn and I looked at each other and just started laughing. Guess what the new expletive phrase is in our house?

Grendel: Controversy Hits the Burbs

Last night I attended my first ever school board meeting. Well, now that I think about it, it was actually my second. My first being when I gave a presentation to the Roseburg School Board at age 12 as co-editor of the high-class production that was our two-page Elementary School newsletter (printed on goldenrod paper, of course). The only thing I distinctly remember about that night is my teacher being irritated that I didn’t wear a dress. Not much has changed.

The topic that drew me and about 300 of my fellow townspeople to the meeting last night was a proposal by parents to have the book, Grendel, by John Gardner removed from the Sophomore Advanced English class curriculum. Well, I should be honest. What really drew me was a caller on the Rick Emerson Radio Program calling in to state that a small group of Mormons were trying have a book banned from our local high school and since very few things chap my hide more than a religious group trying to dictate how others should live their life, I was determined to be in attendance. But alas, from the reading I did before the meeting and the several people who stood to make their case for both sides of the issue last night, I gathered that it wasn’t an all out ban on the book that these parents were looking for but the removal of the book from a particular curriculum.

Their stance on the issue is that while they respect Grendel as a work of literature (which, by comments both in person and on the handout they passed around, I feel this was said more for their argument than their actual belief), the several instances of graphic language depicting rape, torture and mutilation are not appropriate for fifteen-year old children. And even though this novel is used in many sophomore classes across the country, they felt that the same aspects of human nature could be taught and discussed just as easily with a less explicit selection and that we could and should do better for our children. They were also concerned with the lack of explanation on the permission slip that went home to parents as to the nature of Grendel and felt that this non- communication to the parents was intentional so as not to bring to light the type of literature that was being read.

From the viewpoint of the high school English department and many parents in attendance last night, Grendel is regarded as excellent literature and that while there are parts that are graphic, the overall theme and message behind the actual words are great catalysts for classroom discussion. They also pointed out this is an advanced, college prep, optional course and feel that the students accepted to this class are mature enough to process and discuss the graphic content. And in regards to the parent’s concern about the permission slips, a three-hour workshop – in which the protesting parents participated – the high school had came up with a more comprehensive permission slip for parents, optional books that could be read in place of Grendel if parents did not approve and were still working on a way to better incorporate those students in the overall classroom discussion.

Where do I stand on all of this? Let me first state that I have not read Grendel. I did read what I assume is most if not all of the passages in protest passed around on the printed version of the argument and in no uncertain terms, it is graphic. I even found myself balking at certain phrases, but is it too graphic for a 15-year old? I suppose that depends upon the 15-year old. Does the content of the book outweigh the vulgarity of the prose? I don’t know. I haven’t read it. But my argument does not lie with what is within the pages of Grendel. My argument is for personal choice.

If the English department required the reading and dissection of Grendel to graduate, I would agree with these two parents. This book is most likely not appropriate for all teenagers, not even all adults for that matter, and a different novel would be better suited for a general audience. But this is not required reading. This is not even a required class. This is an optional, advanced, college prep class that is designed to promote the more critical thinking that will be required as they move into college courses.

I understand the concern of these parents and I whole-heartedly commend them for staying abreast of what and how their children are learning. It was wonderful to see such parental involvement in the education of our children at the school board meeting – our community is very lucky. But as I listened to both the mother and the father make their case, even in light of better permission slips and optional reading for those families that don’t feel comfortable with Grendel (and a community suggestion of moving it to the senior class curriculum), it became apparent that this had become more about getting their way than making our schools better for all students. They were determined to stand their ground and stamp their feet through meetings with teachers and department heads and principals and superintendents and three school board meetings until the curriculum of our school district was in direct line with their ideals. They were not looking for compromise; they were looking to guide all of us with their own personal moral compass.

I know that whether or not we include this book in our high school curriculum is really inconsequential, but who decides whether or not it will be there is not. Why not let the parents speak in a more democratic fashion? Hand out the permission slips and if a large majority are opting out of reading Grendel then the department can review the reasons for this selection and perhaps choose another title. But if we allow our communities to be governed only by the strictest of moral code and the most limited of ideals of any one group then we are compromising much more than the education of our children. We are compromising the freedoms that allow us to reach, ask, ponder and explore any topic of our choosing.

I admire these parents for standing up for what they believe in, it takes a great amount of courage to do so, but there is a difference between refusing to personally cross a line in the sand and making sure no one else does either. They have the right, and now the option, to have their children read books they are comfortable with. Shouldn’t I be allowed the same? My school board thinks so.

Yes We Can!

I sit here this morning blurry-eyed and sleep deprived, but with a smile that just won’t stop. I keep returning to CNN for confirmation that it really happened. Barack Obama has won the presidency and we have elected our first African-American president! It is somewhat surreal that I am part of, and have participated in, such a monumental step forward in American history and that I will be able to personally relay to my grandchildren what it felt like to be a part of this moment.

And between the hoots and hollers and the Eskimo Pie eating last night at the Election party, actually many times during this campaign, I thought about explaining to Adam the significance of this country electing a man of color to be our President. Two things have stopped me. One, Obama’s campaign has never been about race and I felt it unfair for me to make it so. But more importantly, Adam has never once mentioned a difference between Obama’s skin color and his own. Could he distinguish it if asked? Of course. Just like as a child I could have distinguished a difference between myself and a black person beside me on the bus or standing in front me at the same drinking fountain, but it would have never occurred to me that there was a time when they weren’t allowed to be there. Adam will learn about the history of this country in his own time and I will be happy to share any knowledge and perspective I can, but I believe the strides our country is making can be honored just as much by leaving intact the innocence to our differences as it can be by acknowledging and celebrating this huge step towards a more perfect union. And I hope that when my children learn about the barriers of inequality that were broken last night by the people of this country that overlooked the color of a man’s skin to choose hope and inclusion over fear and division, that their amazement won’t be in that an African-American would actually, finally, be elected as President of this nation, but amazement that there ever was a time when they wouldn’t.

But even as we celebrated this milestone, Obama was sure to remind us in his acceptance speech that this election is only the first of many battles that lie ahead. “This victory alone is not the change we seek. It is only the chance for us to make that change. . . . . So let us summon a new spirit of patriotism, of responsibility, where each of us resolves to pitch in and work harder and look after not only ourselves but each other."

I hear this call to duty and am ready, willing and able to do my part. So as my favorite fictional president, Josiah Bartlet, would say, “What’s next?”

Party At My House!

Tomorrow we will have a new president, but tonight, tonight we celebrate democracy Suburban Reality style! A few friends and family are gathering at our place to watch the election results tediously roll in. To break up the monotony of the cable news pundits I have some riveting Presidential trivia at the ready and of course food! Behold my election night menu honoring each of the four candidates. I'm so clever I can barely stand myself!

Happy Election Night Everyone!

God Bless Democracy!

October Activities. . . Rolled Into One Big Post

You know what I love about Halloween? It has all the fun of Christmas without all the stress and guilt. And considering both the involvement and the turn out for our "Harvest Moon Party" at work there are a lot of other people that feel the same way. Harvest Moon Party? Yeah, we can't officially call it Halloween at work. Although when HR reminded us of this technicality I responded by telling her that I was Wiccan and I didn't appreciate not being able to accurately refer to my high holy day. The way her face contorted in a politically correct effort to hide her dismay was priceless. I can't wait to see her confusion when I start lighting my Menorah for Hanukkah. But I digress.

What started as a simple Pumpkin Carving contest and Eerie Edible Bake-off to raise the morale in the office ended up as an all-out decorating competition between departments complete with spiderwebs and hanging banshees, jars of "brains" and mechanical lawn ornaments, a fog machine and a treasure hunt for the kids. I even won best costume for my pirate garb! The mess we'll need to clean up on Monday morning is completely worth the morale boost because seeing your co-worker in drag does way more for productivity than any sales kick-off ever could.

But the festivities didn't start - or end- there. Last weekend all my family gathered at our house for our annual trip to the pumpkin patch at Lee's Farm. This was our fourth visit to the farm but the first time with our new cousins! What I love about Lee's Farm is that it has all the basic pumpkin patch activities without the lines of Disneyland. We pet the goats and ride the ponies, take a trip through the two-minute hay maze complete with a black plastic culvert slide and then head for the barn to chow on some donuts. Oooohhhh, the donuts. Still warm and dusted with sugar, these apple-cider donuts absolutely melt in your mouth. They are so worth paying $7.00 for a pumpkin.


But of course the main attraction of Halloween is the gathering and gorging of sugary treats. And something mysterious happened while we were out trick-or-treating last night. Maybe it was a full moon or maybe she felt a new sense of bravado behind that clown make-up, but Jamie was not her usual clingy, don't-look-at-me, curl-up-like-a-ball-in-front-of-strangers self last night. She took the lead ringing door bells, remembering her thank-you's and forging her way through groups of strangers up porch steps. It was the spookiest thing of the night. Well, that and the kid dressed up as the Burger King king. That guy creeps me out in a completely wonderful way.


Jamie also took the lead on the gorging of candy. The rule in our house is all the candy you want to eat on Halloween night. With Adam, this has always been more of a suggestion than a challenge. After three or four pieces he was done and on to something else. Jamie took candy eating to a whole new level. After at least ten pieces in as many minutes thoughts of mid-night chocolate peanut butter barf started dancing in my head and we had to call a halt to the gluttony. And for the next half hour we laughed as she bounced around the living room like a raving midget clown on some really good shit. God, how I love Halloween!