Numbers

An article that touched me. . . .

The Real Meaning of 4,000 Dead - TIME

Justice Failed. . . .

My parents asked me one day, quite bluntly, why I thought my hometown of Roseburg was such a horrible place to live. I was a bit shocked by the question and stammered out a response something along the lines of not thinking Roseburg was horrible per se, but wanting my children to have wider experiences and views than I grew up with and felt Portland gave them a better opportunity to do that. This recent news story helps illustrate my feelings.

You can read the whole story (which took place just north of Roseburg) here, but the gist of it is that three punks, apparently taking a break from mailbox baseball, knocked the turban off a Sikh truck driver coming out of a truck stop convenience store. They snatched the turban off this man’s head ran around the building and then sped away with it. They were identified through surveillance cameras and found a few days later. Charges were pressed, but a Douglas County grand jury failed to indict them on more than misdemeanor theft charges even though the law states that any act “committed due to the perception of a person's race, color, religion, national origin or sexual orientation” constitutes an intimidation felony charge. Somehow the people of Douglas County could not see that this man was targeted not as a random prank, but because of his religious attire. They should have asked themselves, would these “pranksters” have snatched the “Never forget 9/11” cap off a different truck driver’s head? Or tore a crucifix necklace from a different patron’s throat? I don’t think so. And think about how this may have played out if these roles were reversed. If a man in a turban had spontaneously and harassingly swiped a Dixie flag do-rag from the head of a trucker? The story would be about how at least one by-standing patron chased and apprehended the suspect and that he is now being held without bail pending a background check for ties to Al-Qaeda. And the whole county would be up in arms about the disrespect and disregard for our first amendment rights and the ability to display/wear articles representing “Southern Pride” and bigotry.

I know, this may seem like nothing more than a man that got his hat knocked off, a couple of idiots that lived up to their potential and then were rightly held accountable for the theft of a five-dollar turban. But to me, as someone who has been to this truck stop many times, who knows these guys, at least figuratively, as people in my high school, at my previous jobs and occasionally, in my family, it is more than that. It is attitude. It is the attitude that they do not have to respect someone that is different from them. It is the attitude that prevents this jury from seeing his turban for more than its monetary value. It is the attitude that will make the truck driver the punch line of their dinner-time jokes rather than the low-lifes that assaulted him. I am aware that these same attitudes can be found in my great metropolis to the north, and I am aware that I can’t protect my children from all acts of bigotry and racism. But I can keep from submerging them in it. And hopefully as they grow up they will see this story for what it is; not a tasteless prank but an act of humiliation.

Happy Birthday, Jamie!

Jamie, you turned two years old yesterday. Two years since my little blonde chickie came into the world. And as I watched your reflection in the side mirror and saw your soft curls blowing in the wind on our way to the park, I couldn’t help but think of all the wonderful things you are. But that was mostly because you were temporarily silent. Which was entirely the opposite of the car ride home in which you were screaming for more after being peeled from the playground equipment, your brother was singing an unintelligible song at the top of his lungs and somewhere in the background was the faint sounds of the new Jackson Brown acoustic CD we had all been peacefully enjoying twenty minutes before. And above this familial din, I could still hear the simple sigh from your father which I completely understood as, “Sweet Jesus, there is still three hours, a bath and a feeding until these things are in bed.”

And many more. . . . .

Alexander Adam. . .

. . . . and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Morning.

I don't like getting out of bed. . .

I don't like wearing adjustable pants. . . . (in his size the waist is adjustable by an elastic band and button inside)

I don't like when I have to take my rolling backpack down the front steps. . . .

I don't like it when there's no Chex cereal left at school. . . . .

Sigh. For the benefit of all of us I hope his day gets better.

Worth a Thousand Words. . . .

Create-A-Caption

Please submit your entries via comments.
(yes, that is her brother's underwear)

Message From Above. . .

I came upon this the other night while cleaning up the latest Fisher-Price explosion in my living room. Of course I took it to mean that I needed to add more sin to my life and promptly revisited the tub of Papa Murphy's chocolate-chip cookie dough in my fridge. Gluttony has always been my sin of choice.

Adjusting My Expectations. . . .

Damonn called me at work today to thank me for this wonderful fruit bouquet that I sent him from Edible Arrangements. He said the fruit looked beautiful and that it was so thoughtful of me to think of him and to take his diet into consideration as well. And then he proceeded to ask. . . . . . . . . . so what’s the occasion?

Um, Valentine’s Day.

The Right Woman For The Job. . .

Apparently, even a four-year old can’t escape the buzz of the presidential race and Adam has proclaimed that I, his mother should be the next leader of the free world. Although, I think he may have the ulterior motive of wanting to live in “that big house, that’s white”. I’m honored that he thinks I’m up for the job, but had to politely decline. I already have two full-time jobs and I’m not interested in another one where stupid people get a say my decisions. But if anyone knows of an opening in a monarchy, I’m sooo there!

Feeling Older Everyday. . . .

Overheard as Adam and his friend Megan started up Asteroids on our old Playstation this weekend. . . .

Adam: Have you ever played this game before?

Megan: Yeah, one time in a museum.

Out Here in OR-E-GONE. . . .

This was forwarded to me in an email today with a note that this is Jeff Foxworthy's interpertation of us up here in the Northwest. Now I don't know if this was actually penned by Mr. Foxworthy, but either way it pretty much sums up our way of life. So. . . . . .

You might be a "Northwesterner" if. . . . . . .

1. You know the state flower (Mildew).
2. You feel guilty throwing aluminum cans or paper in the trash.
3. Use the statement "sun break", and know what it means.
4. You know more than 10 ways to order coffee.
5. You know more people who own boats than air conditioners.
6. You feel overdressed wearing a suit to a nice restaurant or to church.
7. You stand on a deserted corner in the rain waiting for the "WALK" signal.
8. You consider that if it has no snow or has not recently erupted, it's not a real mountain.
9. You can taste the difference between Starbucks, Seattle's Best, and Veneto's.
10. You know the difference between Chinook, Coho, and Sockeye salmon.
11. You know how to pronounce Sequim, Puyallup, Haceta, Yaquina, Yachats, Issaquah, Oregon, Yakima, and Willamette.
12. You consider swimming an indoor sport.
13. You can tell the difference between Japanese, Chinese, and Thai food.
14. In winter, you go to work in the dark and come home in the dark while only working eight-hour days.
15. You never go camping without waterproof matches and a poncho.
16. You are not fazed by "Today's forecast: Showers followed by rain,"and "Tomorrow's forecast: Rain followed by showers."
17. You have no concept of humidity without precipitation.
18. You know that Boring is a town in Oregon and not just a state of mind.
19. You can point to at least two volcanoes, even if you cannot see them through the cloud cover.
20. You use the phrase "The mountain is out" when it is a pretty day and you can actually see it.
21. You put on your shorts when the temperature gets above 50, but still wear your hiking boots and parka.
22. You switch to your sandals when it gets about 60, but keep the socks on.
23. You have actually used your mountain bike on a mountain.
24. You think people who use umbrellas are either wimps or tourists.
25. You buy new sunglasses every year, because you cannot find the old ones after such a long time.
26. You measure distance in hours.
27. You often switch from "heat" to "a/c" in the same day.
28. You design your kid's Halloween costume to fit under a raincoat.
29. You know all the important seasons: Almost Winter, Winter, Still Raining, Road Construction, and Deer & Elk season.
30. You understood these jokes and will probably forward them.

Money I Hope I Never Get A Return On. . .

One of our local radio stations, 105.1 The Buzz is currently on the air for 28 straight hours holding their annual "Valentine's Day for the CCA" telethon which means that I've spent most of the morning re-applying my eyeliner and thanking the powers that be that cancer is not part of my daily vocabulary. The Children's Cancer Association is "an organization dedicated to providing comfort and compassion through a series of innovative programs and services". Services such as the Music Rx cart that strolls through the halls of Doernbecher's Children's hospital providing cd's, Ipods and instruments to kids. They also organize "Chemo Pals" who are volunteers paired up with kids undergoing chemotherapy. Chemo pals talk, listen, laugh and play with these sick kids and more than anything, give the parents a much-needed break. In the last few years the CCA has also built and completely furnished the "Caring Cabin" located on the Oregon Coast as a getaway for families dealing with cancer. To put it simply these people are the saving grace, the life line between desperation and hope for families diagnosed with cancer.

Besides hourly auction items and making direct donations to the CCA, the Valentine's Day for the CCA telethon is also offering $10 valentine e-cards. This is a perfect alternative to yet another box of chocolate and is a cute way to let all your friends know you're thinking of them as well. I have sent a card to all the young moms in my life and challenge all of you that also have healthy, rambunctious, whining, perfect children to do the same. Please help the CCA make a difference.

Check Yes or No. . .

Oregon isn't even holding a primary election today yet I've been glued to the computer hitting refresh on CNN.com waiting for the results of Super Tuesday to come rolling in. I watch as the percentage of votes rise and the check marks appear projecting the winner of each state. I even signed up for CNN's Political Market which is a virtual stock market based on your predictions of the ongoing presidential race. Yes, I'm a geek and I accept that, but I can't help it. There is something about the politcal process, something about watching a country of 300 million people peacfully cast their ballots to pick a leader of their country from canididates that include varying genders, ethnic backgrounds, religious affiliations and political factions all without a single incident of violence. That in itself is mesmerizing to me.

A Bright New Blossom. . .

I’m looking at the picture of Jamie from two posts down as I write this. I have it as my computer desktop and I’m not even one of those moms that usually do that, you know the one’s that think their child will physically disappear from this universe if the picture of their grubby kid somehow doesn’t make the transfer to their new laptop? Well, maybe that’s just in my line of work. But anyway; there is something about that picture of Jamie and the way that moment of winter sun lights up her face that warms me more than any island picture that has ever graced my desktop. Maybe it’s the light, but just as likely it’s that halo of blonde curls, or those blue eyes that dance with the excitement of every new moment or that still-chubby neck that just begs for one of those honking mouth-fart things – a zerbert, I believe they’re called.

She is emerging as her own little person and everyday is like watching one of those high-speed films of a flower blooming. Even in this, one of our coldest, wettest winters in many years, our little hot-house of a home seems to be cultivating her new persona as she surprises us with new words and understandings and abilities on a daily basis. She now insists on carrying her dinner plate to the sink and her chubby-armed hook shot as she helps me load the laundry into the washer is a sight to behold. . . . if only the Trailblazers had such accuracy. Her rapidly expanding vocabulary isn’t so much a surprise (we are thrilled that she is finally emerging from the grunt and point stage that her ear infections left her in for so long), but the occasional clarity of a word can leave the rest of us speechless. The other day she dropped something and followed it up with a very clear, grown-up, “Oh man!”. We all looked around like, who said that? It was like coming home and finding out the dog had the ability make crème brulee. Surprising, but awesome.

But the best part of all these changes is watching the expanding relationship between her and Adam. He is now finding her more amusing than annoying and she in return is finding him more like someone she might hug rather than someone whose teeth she’d like to remove with her knuckles. They are learning to share and take turns and tolerate and as nice as this is to witness, it also scares the hell out me for cooperation is only one step away from conspiracy.

Worst Quote Ever. . . .

"When the film knocks it up to that final gear. . . Jesus will weep - and you will cheer!" -Harry Knowles, Ain't It Cool giving a review of the new Rambo movie on Fandango.com

Bon Appetit! vol.2

Moroccan Chicken with Fruit and Olive Topping

Here's a recipe we tried and liked the other night. Damonn liked it more than me but he is such a fan of green olives that they're thinking of adding his face to the label. I cooked it as called for in the recipes (follow link below) using apricots, cranberries and prunes for the dried fruit. A little less salt is the only thing I think I'd change.

Recipe Here at Cooking Light.com

Enjoy!

My Pretty Girl. . . .

No story, I just love this picture. . .

Gender or Race?

A few lines from a recent CNN.com report (here) struck me as odd. . . .

Recent polls show black women are expected to make up more than a third of all Democratic voters in South Carolina's primary in five days.
For these women, a unique, and most unexpected dilemma, presents itself: Should they vote their race, or should they vote their gender?

Wow. That is an unexpected dilemma. You would think it would be finding the best person to lead this country through an array of both immediate and long term issues, but hey, that's just me.

Here's another goodie:
Analysts say black women this year never have been more engaged in a political campaign or held such power in determining the Democratic nominee.

As far as I'm aware everyone gets a single vote, a vote these women have held since 1920. So how is it they have more voting power this year or than any other citizen? Isn't it the engagement that is the key to the power in voting, not the color or sex of the candidates?

Politics, religion, the continuing success of reality TV, it all boggles my mind.

EDIT: It came to my mind yesterday that even though black women have legally had the right to vote since 1920, social and racial issues may have kept them from doing so until the more recent past. Even so, my point (which was directed at Randi Kaye, the author of this CNN.com article not the women she is writing about) still stands in saying that the color or sex of the current candidates does not give them any additional voting power, but that it is, possibly, the interest and engagement of these women because of these candidates that they are now using the power that has always been theirs.

God's Gym - I mean, Gold's Gym

Apparently there is a growing number of over-prudent college students in Provo, UT (wow, isn't that the understatement of the year) that feel that the videos being shown at the local Gold's Gym are "extremely indecent, and some are outright pornography". BYU student, Dallen Johnson has had to"run out" of the cardio cinema "four times" because of "racy and inappropriate things being shown". Why are you running, Dallen? What's that in your pocket?

And Jesse Yaffe adds, "Once you are a member here, you basically don't have the choice anymore. You're forced to watch indecent material because it seems everywhere you go there's a TV". I know how you feel, Jesse. I go to the gym and everywhere I turn, there's Emeril fisting a pork loin again. Its enough to make a girl go vegetarian. But here's an idea - if you don't like it don't join. Save your money, ride your blessed bike and avoid this apparent haven of profanity and lust.

This mafia of morality is also threatening to protest if their list of demands are not met within ten days. Demands which include keeping the TV's on "clean and decent" stations and "installing blinds on the Aerobics room to hide the dancing, which is very provacative".

I guess BYU doesn't teach that the best form of protest is not to buy the product.

http://www.ksl.com/?nid=148&sid=2502027#

Resolution Proclamation

With you as my witness I hereby declare that I will finally complete Jamie's first-year baby book by her second birthday, March 9th, 2008.

Until the completion of said book I will not spend hours:

Watching Tivo'd episodes of The Office.
Planning vacations that I'm never going to go on.
Staring into the mirror wondering what I'd look like with a different hair color.
Reading reviews of books on Amazon instead of reading the actual books.
Searching the internet looking for the cutest possible Elmo party invitation.
Sorting through recipes on allrecipes.com to find the very best homemade mac & cheese.
Working on the puzzle we started on Christmas Eve.
Running circles in my head contemplating the existence of God.
Organizing closets that will be disheveled within hours by chubby fingers (the kids' not mine).

If it is not done I shall be held accountable and deemed a maternal failure to the tenth power.

My Wish. . .

Tears well and my throat closes everytime I hear this Rascal Flatts song on the radio, showcasing my unbelievable ability to melt into a sobbing maternal blob at the drop of a hat.
This dedication goes out to Adam and Jamie. . . . my wish for you this year and every year is happiness.


I hope that the days come easy and the moments pass slow,
And each road leads you where you want to go,
And if you're faced with a choice, and you have to choose,
I hope you choose the one that means the most to you.
And if one door opens to another door closed,
I hope you keep on walkin' till you find the window,
If it's cold outside, show the world the warmth of your smile,

But more than anything, more than anything,
My wish, for you, is that this life becomes all that you want it to,
Your dreams stay big, and your worries stay small,
You never need to carry more than you can hold,
And while you're out there getting where you're getting to,
I hope you know somebody loves you, and wants the same things too,
Yeah, this, is my wish.

I hope you never look back, but ya never forget,
All the ones who love you, in the place you left,
I hope you always forgive, and you never regret,
And you help somebody every chance you get,
Oh, you find God's grace, in every mistake,
And you always give more than you take.

But more than anything, yeah, and more than anything,
My wish, for you, is that this life becomes all that you want it to,
Your dreams stay big, and your worries stay small,
You never need to carry more than you can hold,
And while you're out there getting where you're getting to,
I hope you know somebody loves you, and wants the same things too,
Yeah, this, is my wish.


My Wish - by Rascal Flatts (listen to a sample at this link - its way better than just reading)