Not an ostrich....

So leave it to Fisher Price to still keep 'educational toy' from becoming an oxymoron. This Christmas I, or rather Santa Claus, got my nephew the new Little People ABC Zoo from Fisher Price. He loved the ark so much last year that something with more animals or guys as he refers to them, seemed like an obvious choice.



For those of you not up on the current selection of Fisher Price toys, the ABC Zoo consists of 26 Little People Animals, each one with a name that starts with a different letter of the alphabet. They all have the first letter of their name on their chests which in turn correspond to the little floor mat with a trail of all the letters in alphabetical in a trail through zoo habitats. When you press on one of the letters, it makes the animal's sound. Press on it a second time and it says the animal's name.

My nephew is thrilled with this new toy. NEW GUYS!! And he spends most of Christmas morning using the animals to press the mat and make the noises and here the female voice enunciate their names. "Flamingo" he repeats, "iguana, dolphin, yak, nightingale, koala, xray fish, rhinoceros, jaguar, seal, camel, vulture, ostrich, urial" He giggles while saying each new word. My nephew's vocabulary has expanded by 15 words in one morning!! (And we all have to admit that we can't even guess on which continent one might find a urial. It's a wild sheep found in the mountains of Northern Asia, for those of you who are interested.)

When his grandparents arrive, he holds up each of his new guys and proudly announces their species. Not even two, and he's getting them all right. Grandparents are amazed. We start playing a game. Every time he picks up an animal, we ask him what animal it is. He complies for a while but then loses interest and rebels. "Not an ostrich," with a mischievous grin becomes his stock answer.

TSA is ON the job...

I know a lot of people have been talking this holiday season about the new TSA guidelines that allow scissors and four inch knives into the passenger cabins of American planes and whether or not that actually is making us safer or putting us in danger of those folks who desparately need to wrap their gifts since they couldn't get through security with them wrapped....

Well, TSA has uncovered yet another potential threat to the American skies ~ domestic animals traveling in cargo areas.

Specifically, my eight pound half yellow tabby, half maine coon cat... She's not a particularly good traveler and even less of a people person. So we're at the Delta check-in, mind you I'm flying Delta so that I will be connecting through Atlanta and not Pittsburgh or Chicago or somewhere else my cat might freeze her tuckus off, and we're told that we have to wait for a TSA agent to check out my cat's box before I can leave her there. Now, the cat, who was not easily gotten into said box, has to come out in the main area of a very busy airport just a few days before Christmas, and she's really not having any of it. When I finally tug her out. Her expression is definitely one more of flight than fright. I have to keep a firm hold on her hind hips just to make sure she doesn't take off for another destination and this is no easy task.

When the TSA agent finally saunters over, heck, he's in no rush! He's all gloved up (which always just cracks me up.) He proceeds to reach into the box/cage and rifle through her padded bed and her little toys all the while checking on me to see if any of this makes me nervous. And then, before he lets me put the cat back into her little nest in the box, he actually pats down the cat, as if she might be carrying a concealed weapon?!?! She has teeth and claws, why would she need anything else? Why not check her for explosive residue?

You know, I have heard Al Qaeda is beginning to use cats. You know, because they're so easy to train and control and all. They have an entire herd of them just waiting to attack!!!!

You Should Get a PhD in Science (like chemistry, math, or engineering)

You're both smart and innovative when it comes to ideas. Maybe you'll find a cure for cancer - or develop the latest underground drug.

What Advanced Degree Should You Get?

It's official -- My cat's a gay man!!

So again, this is probably my fault.

A few years ago, after purchasing one for my brother-in-law (Scientific America, I believe), I decided to get myself one of those gift subscriptions for Real Simple that Barnes & Noble used to sell. When I went to fill out the card, I felt a bit ridiculous listing my own name as "recipient" and "gift giver," so I made my cat, my female cat, the recipient.

So, the cat's got a subscription to Real Simple. Not a big deal. The cat starts getting junk mail. My indoor cat is a member of The National Geographic Society!!! (Can you blame her?) My cat is pre-approved for an American Express card!!! (And it's about time she started chipping in!!) Martha Stewart wants to sell things to my cat!!! My cat can get the first few issues of In Style for free!!! My cat is getting offers for all sorts of home related magazines and very strongly feminine catalogs. We're both girls, we're fine. But then St. Jude's comes along. They want cash, from my cat. And they think they can guilt it out of her by sending her some personalized return address labels. For some reason they NEED to put a title on the labels for my cat (Admiral would have worked!!) and despite all previous marketing to the contrary, they've chosen "Mr." WTF???!

So St. Jude's lost out. They don't take American Express, not that we got the card.

Priceless!!!

Evan Picone "poppy" colored cocktail dress: $32.90 (including tax on clearance at Dillards)
"Appropriate" bra that will probably leave a rash: $12.99 (+tax at Target)
Perfect red Soho nice to meet you OPI nail polish for toe nails: $7.50


Looking at least 10 years younger on your 35th birthday: PRICELESS!!

Metamorphosis

I've decided to start referring to this whole experience as a metamorphosis. It sounds much better than saying I'm recovering from a nervous breakdown. Not that I'm really saying much of anything. It's the big pink elephant in the room ~ the fact that I have a WIDE open schedule for no apparent reason. I'm thinking a "Don't ask; don't tell; do not pursue" policy is in order.

I've also been considering marking the upswing of this whole thing ~ you know, the fact that I've finally decided on life. I'm still not as passionate about it as I once was and I'm still very much involved in the weighing of when so much becomes too much. I think I will spend the rest of my life waiting for that time when I can comfortably say that I did my best and gave it the good fight and gracefully admit defeat ~ I guess I just don't get to do that at 34. So I think I'm going to get a tattoo instead. I found a Celtic butterfly that symbolizes resurrection and I think that's appropriate. I'd get it on the back of my hip just above my butt ~ some place that would never show unless I was wearing really low hip huggers ~ and when would I do that?

I've found out this time around, thinking that I had been through the worst and therefore prepared to face it again, that your mind or your body or some combination thereof actually protects you from the worst. Hitting bottom, I remembered things from 13 years ago that I had completely forgotten. You think that you know how much pain you can endure, but the worst pain you actually forget, so it's so much more. It was those memories and visiting those places again that made me wonder if I even wanted to continue on if and when I did get better. So I'd get better and things would be good, but eventually, I'd find myself back there again, so what was the point? How many times do you really have to claw your way out of the hole before you earn the right to stop trying?

A long time from now, is what my therapist told me. Easy for you! But that's why the tattoo is there. It reminds me how far down it goes and that I can come back, I do come back. And every morning I see it and am reminded of my own strength and resilience. There's also something about a permanent mark on my body from this episode that would otherwise not exist. How can you suffer a life threatening illness (15% mortality rate) and come within spitting distance of death and walk away with out a mark on you, not a single visible scar. Maybe I need that, to make it real for me, beyond all the drugs and the doctors and medical bills, like they're not enough of a reminder.

As much as not eating has been a worrisome symptom, the result has been quite helpful. I can wear clothes now that haven't fit since grad school. It's giving my self esteem a boost when I would otherwise have none.

I told my sister about the tattoo and all the symbolism and how I would see it every morning and be reminded of my own strength. The last time I went through this, I got a kitten. But now that I know I'm allergic to cats, that's just not an option, so I'm going for the tattoo.

The games we play

Eastham, MA

I've been playing this rather cruel game with my mother lately. It arose out of my mother's complete lack of attention to details -- it took her 30+ to notice/remember how I take my tea despite the fact that I've drank it the same way for 30 years. Anyway, I've noticed on all the crime and cop shows that parents are always able to immediately identify jewelry/moles/scars from their missing/deceased children and/or all identifying features. I have my doubts that my mother could provide either. I was right, of course.

Like I said, it's a rather cruel game to play, but at this point, my whole emotional pain yardstick is completely obliterated. I have no idea if this is a fair excuse? Maybe no. But don't I have a certain license to spread my pain for help in absorption?

The way I see it, she was asking for a taste. She arrived uninvited -- on a one way ticket; no talk of a return date. I found out later that my sister goaded her into it - "If she had a broken leg wouldn't you go down there?!" I think what my mother heard was "If she had a caesarian section, wouldn't you be there?" Of course she would! Of course she was!

So back to the torment of my mother. My therapist says I need to be more honest with my family ~ tell them how I really feel. He thinks I expend too much energy protecting them from the ugly places where I exist. But I've been doing it for so long that I don't even know where to start.

I fessed up about not wanting to be in New Hampshire with the car and the garage with the door that didn't need to be opened. I confessed that I couldn't bear the thought of Dad having to find me all alone especially after everything he went through with his mother. I told her I wasn't writing a will until I was sure I wanted to live. No point in having things resolved and making it easier to let go.

I haven't mentioned the exposed the beams on the porch or all the rope for sale at the flea market yesterday or all the thought I've put into the use of a dog leash. What is this anyway? Suicide by convenience? Why don't I just stick a fork in the toaster???!!1

This is my life??

Eastham, MA

So you're probably asking yourself, because I definitely am ~ when did this become my life?? I'm on another family vacation ~ this one is set to be legendary ~ as my mom and aunt have mad a midnight trip to a slightly questionable 24 hour Laundromat (the only one on the Outer Cape, apparently) after my nephew awoke screaming B! B! We gathered in the living room where my sister has been sleeping since she believes she keeps the baby up or vice versa, figured he just lost his binky, so my sister fished another one out of her bag an headed into his room. Then quickly yelled to Mom for help and my mom in turn asked the aunts for assistance. He barfed all over himself, his bed and his very special doggie blankie. Mom and my sister bathed him while my aunt and I remade the bed. My sister got him dry and back into clean pajamas, but he was inconsolable without his blankie. Mom washed it in the sink, but having no way of drying it before morning headed off to the seedy coin-o-matic.

While I'm convinced my nephew doesn't really like me. He's always rather suspicious of me ~ still believes I'm some lesser or evil version of his mother. He's so attached to her that it's hard not to take it personally.

I guess I'm feeling better, but I just noticed the exposed beams on the screened in porch ~ how could I have never noticed them in the 20 years we've been coming to this house? And yes, they do make me a bit uncomfortable -- not that there's any rope around, mind you, just yarn, lots of yarn, and shoelaces. I'm considering the use of a dog leash. Which end would you hook over the beam? Would there be any benefit to having the metal piece tighten around your neck? These are things I need to consider.

And unlike with Dad, I really would not be upset for any of this crowd to find me -- well not as upset, anyway.

I still just really miss me, though.

Middle of the night

Richmond, VA

My family calls throughout the day with the same questions. Are you okay? How do you feel? Are you safe?

It's the middle of the night when I can't sleep that I'm not alright. It's 1am - technically June 2nd - and I'm awake and exhausted and worn and weary and still awake. There's no one to talk to and tell that I'm not okay. That I can't have foxglove in my garden, that I'm relieved I don't own a garage.

And about the garage ~ funny thing I realized tonight. I actually bought a car that can't be used to kill oneself in a closed garage. Hybrids don't idle!!! So, um, yeah, for that plan, I'd need not only a garage, but also someone else's car.

But back to my real life. My cat locked herself in the bathroom today. Must be a sign of impending adolescence. I had to actually remove the doorknob to get the door open. WHY? Other people's cats don't lock themselves in bathrooms??!!

No foxglove for me!!!

I've been kind of wondering/obsessing about how one extract digitalis from foxglove for the past few weeks. (Need to watch X-Files Eve6 episode again!) I mean, really, is it in the leaves or the sappish liquid in the stems? This knd of morbid curiousity (emphasis on morbid) has prevented me from including foxglove with the other perenniels I have planted in my front yard this year.

But, today at Home Depot, they had these gallon pots of apricot foxglove and the folliage looked just fantastic!! I mean like, toss it in the salad spinner, serve with sliced roma tomatoes and Ranch dressing, fantastic. Yeah, step away from the garden center now....

Parental Supervision

Richmond, VA

So, Daddy's here. I can't be left alone, don't you know? He brought up the idea of me returning to New Hampshire with him, something that my sister mentioned to me last week. Seems like Mom discussed this plan with everyone before me. To hear her tell it, Dad blew the timing. He was supposed to wait until Monday and then casually mention that I could come back with him. Now that I think about it, that sounds oddly like the way I dropped out of college. They waited for me to be discharged from the hospital, let me go be to classes fro a day or so and then casually suggested that I could just go home.

Home. What on earth would I do in NH? Mom's gong to be at a conference in Vancouver and Dad will be working. All my friends up there have jobs -- not that I'm much for socializing. So, basically, I'd be alone without my stuff without my freedom without my bearings -- yeah, that sounds like a terrific idea. And I can't help but think of the last time I retreated -- college. Oh, god, it sucked. I was so lost. I have never felt as crazy in my life as I did in that house. No, it's not worth that.

And Dad has started asking the hard questions. What do I want to do next? Do I want to go back to my job? Do I want to go after my boss? I have a decent harassment case, but do I want to put myself through it? When it's all through, it will have been more than a year of my life, possibly two, that I will have lost to this episode and its fallout. It's an awful lot to lose when you actually have someone to blame.

I want to be vindictive. I'd love to just name her in the medical release/HIPAA lawsuit and get her far enough in to place liens on all her property and just completely fuck up her credit rating. That would make me happy.

Dad said that the key was to get me through this with the least amount of damage as possible. FUCK! How did I miss the no damage bus?? Explain to me again how any of this is fair?

So I actually had to listen to two of my married friends talk about what a horrible life another college friend had. She has some kidney disease that she is getting chemo-lite for and apparently her husband can't hold down a job because he can't "find his place."

Yeah, that just REALLY sucks. A disease that actually can be cured and has at least some end point. And being loved and not being alone even if the company is deeply flawed. Yeah, that's just ROTTEN. Do you ever wonder if people realize it when they're having these conversations in your presence? I'm definitely all into feeling sorry for this flaky girl I never really liked when I'm in the process of being shuttled around amongst family members because they're terrified I might kill myself and I'm mourning the loss of myself. I've just spent the last nine months of my life being tormented by the director of my department to the point where I'm on medical disability leave because I'm suicidally depressed. Yeah, I can feel the outpouring of empathing for the ditz and her worthless husband. Perhaps the empathy just went out for a powder with every other emotion that I seem to be devoid of in my numb little world.

Dropping Out of Life

Austin, TX

I'm taking six and a half pills twice a day now. I'm excused from work for 8 weeks and I haven't felt this rotten since I dropped out of college. I guess I'll refer to this as the time that I dropped out of my life.

I'm at my sister's staying with her while my brother-in-law is on his first business trip since my nephew's birth. It's supposed to be a help to her, but I think if we're all a little honest, I'm marginally more helpful than a housetrained retriever.

I know she's terrified of where I am and my nephew and I are holding each other at arm's reach, but I honestly don't whose arm.

I'm so exhausted all the time, like just existing is exhausting. And I'm not even existing as myself. I'm a shadow of myself just going through the motions and haunting this existence that belongs to me or some version of me that I can't even remember.

We, my sister and I -- and I think our mother as well -- live for these moments when I feel like myself. I've only had one of these moments in the last few weeks. A rather ridiculous moment, actually -- I was standing in the grocery store picking out Roma tomatoes and using all five fingers of one hand to test the tenderness of the tomato and it occured to me -- this is something I do.

How is it that a stupid tomato -- one that I never intend to eat even -- has more power to remind me of who I am than my sister or my nephew? Where is the fairness in that???

Fighting back?

Richmond

I filed a grievance against the evil one today. It's a first step, I suppose. In the very least, I am priming the state to have ammunition against her when she ever comes under their control. Daddy says I have a major edge on her because she's not very bright. I my edge has more to do with the fact the she has underestimated me every step of the way.

Today was a slow day. Everything was hard. Dad's trying not to push, but I know Mom's nagging him to get things done around here. What's also odd is that everyone but my aunt has offered for her to come down and stay with me. I have done everything short of beg her to come, but she's not offering and I just can't beg. I guess Mr.-I-won't-come-between-you-and-your-family is contiuing that trend now that they're married.

Finally heard from Devine. She responded to my Uncle Bunty obit that I sent her. She deleted the original email I sent her in response to the email she sent to my office that got my auto response about "being out of the office and unavailable." ~ my yahoo account still had my name as "abc efg" ~ oops! So I recent my long email to her. Hopefully she'll respond in the next few days.

I'm really behind on my book group reading. I actually have 3 books to read for June! Well, one I read in Mrs. Timme's 5th grade Language Arts class, but I think I may need a bit of a refresher...

The pictures of my nephew are so amazing. I need to get some prints made. He is just soo beautiful now and soo photogenic! I'll have to call Tim tomorrow to see what his schedule is like to find out if I can use his use his high speed internet to upload these pictures to the web.

Reconnecting with "ME"?

Richmond,VA

I've been trying to do thing that make me happy or at least made me happy at some point. Today Dad and I went to Barnes & Noble and went to the Ashland Berry Farm and got annuals for the pots on my front steps. I know at one point I loved growing flowers so I'm sticking to that! My orchids are still blooming and they look gorgeous. The yellow one in the bathroom has all sorts of new buds even.

I've been reading a lot and joking with my sister about how this is the best time to read sad books. What are they going to do, depress me? I'm actually pretty numb. The crying response is so easily activated, it doesn't even seem to hold any meaning. I've gotten "102 Minutes" about the people in the Twin Towers on 9/11 and actually really liked "Good Grief." There's a scene where the main character, who is trying to come to terms with the death of her husband and has consoled herself with a little too much ice cream (to the point that her work clothes no longer fit), arrives at work in her pajamas and bathrobe. I cannot even begin to describe how much I wish I had had the nerve to do that. There were days and days where it took everything I had to get myself into that horrific office and getting out of bed was the hardest part. But to demonstrate, especially for one of those stupid 7am mandatory staff meetings would have been so liberating.

I still need to avoid the damn Wellbutrin XL commercial. Don't need to be reminded that I'm not myself, thank you very much!!! Quite aware of the fact. There will be a day when I finally have the feeling -- yes! this is me. I remember this!

But, that is months and months away.

Valentines Day 2005

Why on earth would someone ever create such a horrid holiday?

I am having a ridiculously weird day. I hate Valentine's Day, but I've matured out of wearing all black for the occasion. I'm actually wearing something pink! (rose quartz, to be catalog-colors-that-don't-even-exist-in-Crayola exact) I think it brings out the uneven skin tone in my face, verifying the fact that I didn't wear any foundation today. It's a good look for me. Did I mention weird day?

I came into the office and the receptionist is all apologetic and please don't be upset with me. I'm expecting some new ridiculous policy that the evil people I report to have once again made her deliver to me. I'm thinking, I don't know, I have to wear skirts from now ~ no more slacks ~ and I should understand, being the professional that I am. (Yes, they use that word to the effect of fingernails on a chalk board.) But no, she wants to apologize for accidentally opening my mail. It's just a photocopied article from a colleague with a note "Happy reading!"

It's actually an article about a smallpox outbreak in a Midwestern town around the turn of the century and all the political and social fallout that occurred as a result of quarantine and isolation orders. Happy reading, indeed!

So why, you ask, is the receptionist terrified of me? Let's just say everyone around here is afraid of everyone else these days. Ridiculous new policies appear everyday, some for everyone, some for just a select few. I am one of the lucky ones who gets special attention, at least some of the time. What's sad to say is that we all breath a sigh of relief when we see someone else getting the "special attention" because it means we're safe for a few hours. We can't question the authority, as it is absolute. I went to Human Resources to discuss the situation, to point out the mass exodus that was going on and the strange fact that those leaving seemed to have something in common (skin color, anyone?). They talked to the director about it and I got my hands slapped for going to Human Resources. Oops. My bad. Won't make that mistake again. Make no mistake, if a white administration was doing this to black employees, the NAACP would come crashing in here like a bulldozer. I guess, when this happens to white people it's just considered restitution.

I heart spam, NOT

So I seem to have gotten on the mailing list for "sexually explicit daily". I kid you not, it really does exist!! And it's not like it's my yahoo account or my gmail ~ oh, no, it's my work account!! And all those great filters that prevent me from getting any email that uses the term arboviral (as in an infectious disease passed by mosquito) do nothing to block sexually explicit daily, what's that about?

But my curiousity does get the better of me. (NO, I haven't clicked the links or anything, didn't I mention the *work* computer bit and I really don't want to encourage the spammers.) It's the descriptions of what they're trying to draw you to that I adore. You expect the cheating housewives and the naughty school girls, but the grandmothers and other senior citizens gave me a good laugh.

Even my cat isn't immune to spam. Alright, entirely my fault. I was wondering about the validity of those "free iPod" banner ads, so I clicked on one. I didn't want to use my own name, so I used my cat's. I did, however use my yahoo email account. I've had in excess of 100 messages in my spam box since then ~ most of them addressing my cat by name in the title and offering her some great deal. If only my cat had a mortgage to refinance...

I heart 24!

I watched the first season of 24 and was relatively enthralled, but got a bit bogged down by all the awful stuff the kept happening to Mrs. Jack and their daughter, Kim. (They just got back together! She was pregnant too! So then they killed her???!)

Anyway, I half heartedly watched season 2 and completely avoided season 3, but when season 4 started with a bang ~ 4 hours on two consecutive nights ~ I couldn't help myself! And what's not to love?? Edgar, the self-esteem-challenged bumbling, mumbling computer geek who's looking like a hero! Madeline from La Femme Nikita back in command of her own little black ops cell! William Devane NOT getting smoochy with anyone. (I've probably just shot myself in the foot on that one ~ he'll probably start some red hot affair with Sarah next week...) And don't even get me started on Behrooz and Dina!! Yes, yes, yes, it's a horrible depiction of Arab Americans. But keep this in mind ~ Dina is willing to risk everything, EVERYTHING, for her son who has realized that he just doesn't believe in this cause. Sure, she seemed cold and calculated when she served the imfamous tea to Debbie (who was a wee bit stalker-ish, if we're all honest with ourselves), but now as she stoicly perseveres with a gunshot wound to save her Behrooz, she's just not so cold. And as far as Behrooz killing Tariq ~ of course, his father didn't believe him!! No father of the year award for him! And I think he can forget getting a father's day card as well...

I can't just leave this without throwing in some predictions. And these are just off the top of my head, since I have no connection to anyone even remotely involved with the show. I think Chloe and Andrew are involved. Why? She seemed awfully concerned about his well being (to the point of threatening Jack ~ like that's gonna happen!) and just the fact that Andrew knew her direct line at work pointed to the fact that they were more than just "old classmates." Audrey's husband is up to no good. As much as I want to believe he is as wonderful as Forney, the character James Frain played in Where the Heart Is, I'm just not getting that. And while we're talking about the extended family of the Secretary of Defense, the son, Richard, does have something that he's hiding, of a very personal nature. He kind of alluded to that with his father, but never gave it up under torture. Perhaps he and Tariq were lovers??

Since I'm not the only one getting a laught out of 24, here's something from the Washington Post! http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/articles/A6489-2005Feb7.html?nav=most_emailed_emailfriend

Care bears on the Ark

My nephew turned one just two weeks ago. He's truly an exceptional child and I'm not just saying that because I'm his aunt or because most of the relatives say he reminds them of me. He has a vocabulary that would astound you. He says the regular Hi, Mama, Dada, no (no, no, no, no), yeah, kind of stuff ~ but he also says tank ooh, baby (or bayBEE or BAYbee as there are several different meanings for this word), buh-bye, oof-oof, mao-mao, brown bear (the kid's an Eric Carle fan!), baa (bath, not the sound a sheep makes, thats ba ba), boo (book) and I'm sure there's other stuff that I'm forgetting.

I couldn't be at his first birthday party since he lives on the other side of the country, but I did leave his birthday present when I visiting for Christmas. I got him the Fisher Price Little People Noah's Ark. Now I could go on and on about how different Little People are since my childhood ~ beginning with the not-s-much-a-chocking-hazard aspect ~ but I won't get into it. My nephew loves the 'raffes and the lions (he roars). He keeps asking my sister what sound the giraffes make and she bluffs "munch munch" or "nibble nibble", but he won't have any of it. You're not pulling that kind of crap over on a guy whose "baba" (what he calls all his grandparents) taught him the actual sound a zebra makes. Yes, that would be my father. Apparently, if you ever watch documentaries on wildabeasts (which I apparently can't even spell!!) you would hear lots of zebra noises. Um, okay.

His birthday cake was decorated with two little care bears which match nicely with the little animals from the ark, so there they reside. It's become quite the topic of conversation between the adults in the family. Consider, for example, if the care bears were to have survived the great flood, there would have needed to have been two of them aboard Noah's ark, right? I mean, you can argue the historical accuracy of care bears on the ark, but you can't even definitively prove the historical accuracy of the ark itself. So it's really a toss up! If my nephew stays in the state where he currently lives, he will no doubt be learning about creationism and perhaps even the ark in his biology classes. I like to think I've done my part to make that job a little more difficult for whoever attempts to cover those topics with him.

Watching the state....

So I can't actually bring myself to watch the state of the union address. It all seems a little too pep-rally-ish too, what with all the applause and standing ovations ~ just without the congress sitting in areas marked "class of --" I suppose that really wouldn't work considering they just don't know when their constiuency is going to send them packing back home.

I have a friend who likes to get her video from network television and her audio from NPR. Apparently they're a fraction of a second or so off giving the appearance that the president is poorly dubbed from some other language. She says it keeps things interesting.

The constitution says that "from time to time" the president will brief congress on the state of the union, so I'm wondering exactly how it became an annual thing? I guess it could be worse ~ a monthly state of the union??? If that were the case, I'm not seeing the network executives giving up a night of primetime once a month even for a president they adore, especially not during sweeps!! Then maybe they would rotate it ~ an idea I think they should serious consider. It's not like every network gets to show the Olympics or the World Series or the Superbowl!! Maybe if they bid on it, it would mix things up a bit? Could you imagine if there were commercial time slots for the state of the union that commanded the same kind of interest as the super bowl commercials? How about a little half time show? Then I'd watch!

State of the Union?

So I've been wondering, as I often do. With all the concern about the FCC and live television broadcasts, do you suppose they'll be televising the State of the Union on a 3-5 second delay? I mean, I realize the likelihood of a wardrobe malfunction is miniscule, but you really never know when W is gonna abandon the teleprompter and drop the F-bomb.