Craft: Stop Thief!

I live with a professional criminal. A very skilled sock-stealer to be exact.
Our dog has spent the last 8 years perfecting her stealth-like, sock-stealing skills. And unfortunately, what we are always left with is one good sock and one with a hole chewed right through it.

When I came across this book in the craft section of a store, a light bulb went off in my head! It gave me the perfect idea of how to turn all our single socks into something useful. I didn't buy the book (because it's on my wish list); but I had an old issue of Martha Stewart Kids from 2003, which had a similar pattern inside that I loosely followed for this project.

The diagram above is my attempt to help you follow along!

Here's what you will need:
2 socks (the same size)
Stuffing.
Needle and thread to match.

First, sew the main body and leg pieces. They need to be sewn inside out, leaving a big enough gap for you to be able to turn the socks the right side out after sewing. Once this is done, you can stuff those pieces.
After you are done stuffing, you can then close the gap.
Next, sew the two front legs in exactly the same way, then stuff, and then attach them to the body.
Once you have done this, you can place the head on to the neck and attach the bottom of the head to the body.
Make sure to stuff this piece from the front of the face and then sew it together.
After this, I sewed the ears and then attached them without any stuffing - for more of a floppy look.
Finally I used some embroidery floss to create the the eyes and mouth.

C.

Conspiracy Theory

I swear on everything that I hold near and dear to my soul that the "Target" stores I visit must pump out some kind of gas through their ducts - akin to the oxygen forced into Vegas Casinos - that makes you exit their doors spending far more than you intended on entering.

One Hundred and Eighty One Dollars and Sixty Three cents more today - to be precise.

Clearly, even though my ego is well aware of our current economic crisis, my poor ID has not been made privy to this information yet.

Oh well.
I'm sure my new Christmas Tree decos will continue to sparkle long after my home has been repossessed.

L.

Fun Day Friday 2

When comedienne, Jo Brand, was asked for her thoughts "on the quickest way to a man's heart," she promptly replied "through his hanky pocket with a bread knife!"

And from that moment on , I was in love.

Today I was wondering what to do for Fun Day Friday - What to watch? What to cook? What to make?
I thought of Jo and came across this:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dy07Lhbp6TU


If my Friday is half as enjoyable as this looks, I'm in for a great day!

L.

It's The Law

Have you ever stopped to think, during the course of your day, just how many of your actions and decisions are guided by the invisible, long arm of the law?

Every time you put on your seat-belt or every time you refrain from poisoning your Husband's Spaghetti Bolognese because he still can't remember to put the toilet seat down after fourteen years of marriage, do you tip your hat in recognition of all things legal? Do you pat yourself on the back for being the law-abiding citizen that you are?

I know that I'm certainly influenced by what is legal and what is not. After all... there have been numerous times when I've fancied popping off to St. Louis for some fun with the gang - but have had to cancel at the last minute because "it is illegal to drink beer out of a bucket while you're sitting on a curb".
Well, EXCUSE me! Who thought of this doozy? Which party pooper was in a bad mood that day?
Why else would you go to St. Louis if you weren't going to drink beer out of a bucket on the curb?


But the Law is not entirely punitive or enacted just to ruin your fun.
After all, it is reassuring to know that in Alabama "it is illegal for a driver to be blindfolded while operating a vehicle".
This certainly helps cut down on the accident rates. And it keeps people honest too. Look, if it was legal to wear a blindfold, how many folks out there do you think would be cheating? Trying to sneak a peak from underneath? Or using a see-through material so they could still make out the lines in the middle of the road?
Hey - they say that the law is supposed to be a deterrent ... And I think this one really proves that old chestnut. As long as you're not blind-folded then you don't have to cheat and lie, right?

Some laws are actually fair.
It appeals to my benevolent nature that in Ohio "it is illegal to get a fish drunk"; and in Kansas, you are "prohibited from shooting rabbits from a motorboat". I mean, come on, a boat is not a steady place from which to fire a gun. That wouldn't be fair at all. Your ammo would be flying all over the place. How "fair" of an aim would that be?
Yep. Keeping a balance works for me.

Going through all of these laws, though, has made me realize that if every law on the books was observed and enforced, many of us would be up the creek without a paddle, so to speak. And the creek would be filled with all kinds - not just your low life, drug dealer kind but also your low life, politician kind. For instance, Rudy Giuliani would have had three strikes and been out if he'd been living in Florida because "men may not be seen publicly in any kind of strapless gown".
And the only doors that Sarah Palin would have been walking through in Texas would have been those of the county jail given that "it is illegal to shoot buffalo from the second story of a Hotel."

Some laws are just misguided. They kind of miss the point. In Florida it would be illegal for me to "sing in a public place while attired in a swimsuit". But frankly, it should be illegal just to have me attired in a swimsuit in the first place. Singing or not. That would be a crime against humanity by itself.
And in California it is illegal for "women" to "drive in a house-coat".
You can tell it was a man who thought that one up. All us women know that the minute you get in to the car, your house-coat morphs in to your car-coat.
What do you think we're made of? Money?

But the laws that really disturb me are the one's that make you wonder what the hell was going on for someone to have to come up with it in the first place??
In Florida, again, "having sexual relations with a porcupine is illegal". Well, I should damn well think so! Can you imagine the pain that this would cause? What kind of person would hurt a porcupine in this way? Unbelievable.

And in Wilbur, Washington, "riding an ugly horse is illegal".
Are YOU going to be the one to tell the horse that it's ugly?
Because I'm not going to go down that lonesome, dusty trail.

And in Baltimore, Maryland "no one may take a Lion to a Movie Theater"
Do I have to say more?
It makes you wonder where we are on the evolutionary scale doesn't it?

But as I come to the end here, there are some laws out there that I am SURE were created just to wind me up.
In Indiana, "liquor stores may not sell milk".
Why can't I shop for myself AND shop for my child all at the same time? Why do I have to pick up my twelve pack and then drive to the grocery store with beer spilling all over my crotch? It's just not right.
And in New York, "it is against the law to throw a ball at someone's head for fun".
So there goes my evening's entertainment. What else is there to do with your husband on a regular basis that may be classed as fun?
That's right! I can think of nothing either!

In finishing here today, though, I would like to give a shout out to Texas who seems to have some of the most courteous laws on the books (in between those that take the Gold medal for most bigoted or antiquated) ...
BUT, in Texas, "a recently passed anti-crime law requires criminals to give their victims twenty four hours notice, either orally or in writing, and to explain the nature of the crime to be committed".
The even weirder part of this would be if the "victim" acted as polite as the criminal and stuck around waiting for the whole thing to take place ... "Well ... you said you were coming and were kind enough to let us know that you'd be bringing a gun and a rope and all ... and it would have been just plain rude of me not to be here now, wouldn't it?? So do your worst and don't forget to wash up before leaving now, you hear me?"

Tea anyone??????

L.


Laws taken from a children's book by Kathi Linz
and the web site LawGuru

Craft: Bags from Bags

This project has been on my mind for a while now because I think it is totally brilliant. It involves taking old plastic grocery store bags and creating a whole new material from them. One of the many things you can do with this material is create a reusable shopping bag.

You can either follow along with my directions or follow along with the tutorial that I used for the project here.

What you will need:
Flimsy store bags (like grocery stores or target)
Parchment paper
Iron (I set mine to rayon with no steam)

Cut up the bags so they will lay flat and remove the handles. If you use a bag with printing on it you should turn it inside out because the ink can get messy. Layer the bags 8 thick. You can place items under the top layers - like paper cut outs. I found that smaller items worked best if they were made of paper. You could also draw right on the bags using permanent marker to make a design or cut interesting shapes out of plastic bags, to layer in, as a design element. I placed one layer of parchment paper below the bags and one layer on top. I then ironed over the parchment - being careful to keep the iron moving. I then flipped the whole thing over and ironed the back as well. I found it crucial to remove the paper AFTER it had totally cooled down.
Once this is done, you can then trim the edges to square off the material. I folded mine in half and fused the sides with the iron.
For a more professional look you can always use a sewing machine!

This is an easy and very satisfying project. It really made me feel like I was winning on the recycling front. I think I'm going to make more than a few of these to hand out to anyone who will take one.

C.

The Wright Philosophy

Because the Steven Wright quote from yesterday's post got me thinking (again), I found some more of his musings to ponder:


"If toast always lands butter-side down, and cats always land on their feet, what happens if you strap toast on the back of a cat and drop it?"


"If one synchronized swimmer drowns, do all the rest have to drown too?"


And...


"What happens if you get scared half to death twice?"



All worth some prolonged contemplation, don't you think?

L.

Age Spot

I think it's hardly surprising that "age" is something we tend to discuss more and more as we get older. Or more specifically, that the "problems" of age are something that we tend to discuss more and more as we get older.

I was in the Doctor's office the other day and was reading a print-out which they had pinned to the wall. I can't remember the exact title - because no prisoners were left when my memory was sieged - but it was a series of quotes about age by the late George Carlin, which basically illustrated the cyclical nature of the whole process.

Without going into great detail, Carlin surmised that the young think of age as a "goal" to "achieve". The middle-aged think of age as something to "conquer" or to "overcome". And the elderly think of age as ... well, actually ... the elderly DON'T think of age as anything much at all. They're past it. They don't care anymore.
To sum it up, in the grand old circle of life, we go out as we come in - wrinkled, screaming and in need of a diaper change.

So over the weekend I spent some time on my couch thinking about the "problems" of age and wondering where I would fit in to Mr. Carlin's continuum. It was a cozy endeavor because my son chose to spend the better part of his Saturday morning on the couch next to me, playing with my hands - conducting an engaging scientific study of his own.

My first order of business was to remove myself swiftly from the "elderly" category because, after all, I still have my own teeth, my comfortable underwear have not yet risen to the level where they may as well be sewn to my bra and I'm not at the point where funerals have become my only social event that I attend with any regularity.

But immediately after comforting myself with these reassuring thoughts, I felt the distinct discomfort of a piercing "nip" coming from the left side of my body.
It was this "nip" that set my mind racing as it dawned on me that the very same "game" that my son was playing with my hand today, was the very same game that he had been playing with his "elderly" Grandad's hand a few weeks earlier.

To sum it up in brief... his strategy is to take his small, soft fingers and pull up the skin on the back of your hand, in a tent-like fashion, as far as he possibly can without ripping it from the bone. Then, just before it hits the point of no return - where the elasticity has been stretched to capacity and you can feel your neck smoothing out in a compensatory maneuver, he lets go at the speed of light and counts how long it takes until your mutilated membrane relaxes back to "normal". The object of the game is to count how many seconds it takes for the adjustment process - with the outcome suggesting that the longer it takes, the older you are.

Fabulous.

I watched in horror as my stubborn skin sank back into place with the speed of a ninety year old behind the wheel of a Buick on a sunny Sunday in July.
Then I screamed in horror as my son informed me that my skin had actually taken longer to circle its orbit and land safely back at base than my "elderly" father's skin. And he'd worked in construction all his life - with cement and bricks and wood and dust ...

How could this be?
It was not making sense.

For days now I have been in a haze of distressed disbelief as I try to come to terms with the repulsive, cyclopean pustule that has decided to grace the tip of my nose like a winking, inflated eye-ball - announcing my arrival to events at least five minutes before the rest of me shows up.
For days I have been trying to work out how a forty-year-old Mom with peri-menopausal hot flashes, gravity-stricken boobs and a slowly shriveling vagina can be seriously shopping for acne medication.

And now this!

How can I be a greasy ball of walking hormones AND be a dried up canvas for liver spots all at the same time?
It just doesn't add up.

I sat for an hour or so longer trying to work it all out when it dawned on me that some questions are not really meant to be answered. And even if we try, no two people will come to the exact same conclusion in the exact same way.


So rather than finish with my own unanswerable question, I thought I'd finish with one from Steven Wright. His are much better than mine and deserve more thought.
He asked:

"How young can you die of old age?"


Something to think about ...

L.

Fun Day Friday

If you were one of the (not so) lucky people that have ended up spending hours with me on the phone, you would know by now that I have a bit of a "thing" about the amount of homework my son receives.
This is not a new "thing" but an ongoing "thing".
It started when he was in First Grade and has lost no momentum since then.

This "thing" - AKA - this ridiculous amount of homework that we have had to plow through on a nightly basis for the past five or six years, has caused many a frantic argument and has been responsible for many a shed tear.
Most recently, I will admit, the tears are being shed quietly by me as I have come to grips with the sad realization that I am hopelessly and irredeemably incapable of ever understanding fifth grade math and that, in this capacity, I am never going to be of any value to my son again.

But ... on with the post...

Because our weekdays were so full of stress, we decided to create "Fun Day Fridays."
A day where we could flip the proverbial bird to the tension of the weekdays and relax... Have a laugh. Lighten up. Mess around. No worries, mate - and all that.
Friday has become a release day for us all. Especially after the school bell rings.
And we are now in to our Fifth Year (I will let my son count the exact amount of Fridays that this would add up to).
The tradition is still alive and well.

We all have a lot going on. There is a lot going on in the World.
There is a vast amount of conflict occurring everywhere because the ideals and ideas that we were taught and led to believe -in growing up often directly oppose the thoughts and beliefs of others that we now come in to contact with.

But with that in mind and in the spirit of joy and humor and fun on this Friday, I present to you - Ladies and Gentleman, Mr. Eddie Izzard ....
(To gain the optimum results from your viewing experience today, please click on the link below and watch it ALL. Thanks!)

L.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ope-1Zb5t-k

Word Games

Over the past week or so I've been tossing around the idea of posting a few of the "Barackisms and Obamanyms" that are entering our modern day lexicon.

What I found during my deliberations was that instead of concentrating on how I was going to present the post, I was compulsively trying to come up with "isms" and "nyms" of my own.
And not only that, but I brought my family in on it too and have been the master puppeteer in successfully luring them away from homework, grading and sleep.

Now, I'm not advocating senseless time wasting whilst your are on the clock of a productive or paying job; but we all like a little distraction every now and again. And at least this distraction can be classified as Family Friendly, if not downright educational - in a post-modern cultural way.

So, in the essence of good sportsmanship, I have started you off with a handful of freebies...
Let the games begin!!

Obamarama - the hoopla surrounding the inauguration (and Obama himself).
Barackstar - my favorite and self explanatory.
Probama - supporters of Obama.
Baracket Science - looks as if it has Republican origins and was supposed to be used in a derogatory fashion. But like Mr. Obama himself, it quickly gained a favorable audience and became associated with good ideas and hope.
Whoabama - what we all will be saying every time he makes a risky move.
D'ohbama - what we may be saying if he makes a gaffe.
Diplobamacy - used by Keith Olbermann. I think you can get it.
Obamaconomy - used by Rachel Maddow. I think this is a no-brainer as well.

And ... Ta-Da ... my own creation from this morning -
Obamit! - a polite way to to express frustration at yourself throughout the day when you continually screw up.

So. Have at it! See what you can come up with.
I personally can't wait to watch this lexicon evolve and go down in the annals of time.

Oops, there's another possibility - Obannals.
Or is that an ... (open Barackets), "Obamination", close Barackets .. ?

L.

Is it just me?

Hey...just a thought...
But surely I can't be the only one who finds humor in the fact that we now have a Lame Duck President sitting within range of a man who randomly sprays "bird-shot" at stray fowl?
Granted, he misses his target a lot. But would that make you feel any safer at this point?

L.

Craft: Caps to Cap-Haitien Project

Today marks the second time I've had an opportunity to make something that would help people in Haiti. The first was back in 2003 when I was contacted by a young volunteer named Sarah who was working in Haiti. The request was simple, would I be willing to create the packaging design for salt containers? "Like Morton Salt," I said. "Yes, iodized salt," Sarah said. What I found out was that iodized salt was extremely important because the average baby's diet in Haiti does not contain iodine and iodine is absolutely critical for brain development. Babies that grow up without iodine tend to have lower I.Q scores. "I'm in," I told her. One week later in January of 2004 violent protests broke out in Haiti and Sarah had to leave. The project was put on hold and unfortunately, I do not know if they were able to succeed in bringing iodized salt to Haiti.

Last week I was checking one of my favorite blogs and discovered a second opportunity to help people in Haiti. It's Soul Mama's, Mama to Mama, Caps to Cap-Haitien Project. Did you know that Haiti has the highest infant and maternal mortality rate in the western hemisphere? Often the pregnant women in Haiti do not have their basic dietary needs met. Premature babies born here have trouble regulating their body temperatures and they tend to be very cold. If that's not enough to make your eyes swell with tears I'm not sure what is. The Caps to Cap-Haitien Project involves taking old t-shirts or any cotton jersey items you already have and turning them into caps for newborn babies. The hats will become part of safe birthing kits provided by Konbit Sante. Get more information and the directions for making the caps (hand sewn is o.k. too) here. I had a pretty easy time making my caps from some of the clothes my daughter had outgrown. It also felt really good to finally do a little something for the Mamas of Haiti.

C.

Wads

I'm not going to over-do it today. Even though I want to maintain some kind of productivity, I've decided to try and cut back on the verbosity.
And I think it's because I was reminded that I have a therapy appointment to go to tomorrow!

The productivity issue arose as I began to think about my "not-so-productive" behaviors; which came about because I was contemplating the topic of "balance" that seems to come up at every Therapy appointment I attend.

Unfortunately, I have this tendency towards perfectionism - which in and of itself is bad enough. But I also have this tendency towards procrastination - which, as you no doubt can guess, is not the most compatible pair of tendencies to possess.

In short, what I am saying is that I'm the type of person who can sit on my couch for hours at a time, looking at my messy (imperfect) home - getting all upset that it's not "just right" - whilst at the same time having no motivation to do anything about it whatsoever!

How's that for balance?

I'm sure I'm not the only one by far. I'm sure many people do the same thing. Like with exercise...
You know? You decide you want to do it and you want to get all healthy and in shape. So you go and purchase the gear you need to do it with and you have this idea that you are going to be so disciplined and perfect. You start by setting up an enjoyable and lively routine and you get totally into the groove with Madonna every day without fail. Day in and day out. Then after about two weeks you start to feel really, really good about yourself. And because you are so happy about how good you feel, you decide to "treat" yourself to a day off because, well, you've been doing it so dutifully and doing it so devotedly every, single day that you undeniably deserve a day to yourself.
But here's where it turns sour...

You give yourself the one day; but then that one day somehow turns in to one week and then that one week somehow turns in to one month and then that one month somehow turns in to two - and on it goes. Before you know it, that perfect plan has silently eased its way back onto the bottom of your mental "to-do" list where it naggingly remains until you have the energy to bring it back to the top again.

There is a phrase that circulates my house-hold. A phrase that is not the most literate of expressions and a phrase that would certainly not be heard rolling off my therapist's tongue. It is a phrase often projected at me or on to me by the other adult under this roof when he sees the enthusiasm waning from activities that were previously being undertaken with gusto. He will say with some vindicatory glee:
"You shot your wad!"
"You went steaming in - and you shot your wad!"


Therefore, in the interest of keeping my wad from shooting and in a determined effort to find some kind of therapeutic balance, I am going to shut up and run a relaxing, warm bath whilst I leisurely deliberate my next post!

So much for cutting back on the verbosity...
Gotta work on that...


L.

It's a boy thing

Today my son seemed very eager to celebrate his Dad's Birthday and to present him with the badly wrapped gift that arrived just in the nick of time. He still continued to be excited even after we'd had a mini "spat" over the issue of who was going to wrap the gift . My son thought that I should wrap it and cleverly backed himself up with a neat, logical argument involving the words "older" and therefore "better at it". I thought he should do it and tried to explain my total lack of skill in the wrapping department which render him - even at his age, much more competent than me. I went on to explain that I was just not "gifted" (no pun intended) in many ways and that even though I'd now lived to a ripe old age of forty, my artistic and basic construction skills were frozen at the three year old level.
Needless to say, he won. I wrapped it.

Well. The gift itself is an electric shaver or razor - for men. When opened, it will represent Donald's emergence into the Twenty First Century, after using my fifteen- year-old hair clippers to remove his lip and chin stubble since as long as I've known him.
It is a "step up" for him but a silent sigh from me as, to be honest, I think he looks much better with a small sprinkling of facial fuzz rather than having that Kojak chin which reflects the midday sun in a peculiar fashion. But I digress...

I could not work out why my son was so happy about his Dad's Birthday - especially given that we'd had to stop everything yesterday and throw a party for his newly emerging Pubic Hair. I mean ... we'd already had one peachy (again, no pun intended) party this weekend.
But then it hit me!! Of course!!
After yesterday's jaw-dropping discovery - (please note, I could have made some quip about ball-dropping here but resisted). But after yesterday's impressive discovery and with a newly acquired certainty that he is now ascending to the heights of Man-hood at a testosterone-induced rate, it became clear that it is NOT the idea of the Birthday that is appealing to him but the idea of SHAVING that is grabbing him by the short and curlies.

Oh yes...it's all making sense now!

L.

Eight propositions

Starting today's post has not been easy. It's Saturday. Everyone is home. I'm being pulled in umpteen different directions; and just as I was about to start writing this blog, my son urgently calls to me: "Come quick! Come quick!" So, I go barreling up the stairs to the bathroom thinking that he must have cracked his skull open in the shower or busted the stitches that he just had placed around his eye after stabbing himself with a pencil earlier this week - (never a dull moment here) - and he proudly announces "Mom! I've got puberty! I've got puberty! Look! There is a hair growing down there! I've got puberty!"

Now. My intention here is not to embarrass my son - although if he sees this post, we can drag out the mission accomplished banner pronto. I'm really just trying to give you an idea of how eccentric my morning has been before I go on to talk about my intended topic, which already had my head in a spin before my eyeballs were fully dilated .
As I awoke from from my usual night of restless sleep and drank my usual cup of strong, strong coffee, I also listened to the T.V news whilst reading the Papers on my computer, as I usually do... Hey, multi-tasking at its best.
The first thing that struck me as bizarre today was that the main headline and the main topic of conversation all over the media was centered around the new "puppy elect" at the White House. What breed should it be? Who should choose it? What other pets have been in the White House? And on it went. I even took another listen to Obama's press conference yesterday and clearly heard him say that the "dog issue" has, and I quote, "generated more interest on our web-site than just about anything".
At the same moment as I was hearing these words again, I was staring at Headlines from quite a few sources. I saw that there was a new Prime Minister in New Zealand amid their economic crisis and I saw that rescue teams have been working through the night under floodlights at the site of a school in Haiti that collapsed with several hundred children inside. I saw that there have been Political protests in Thailand and that a hurricane is hitting the Cayman Islands and that an Iraq suicide bomber killed EIGHT. It goes on ...

But talking of EIGHT - I could feel that the main cause for the weirdness of my world today was fueled by my disbelief (still) at the Proposition EIGHT vote in California; and that this whole issue is perplexing - to say the least - when, as a country, we just voted for change and have been listening to rhetoric about Civil Rights day in and day out.
I mean, call me crazy, but the result of this vote seems like the most disturbing act of Civil Rights mis-judgment in a long, long time. And given that we do live in the US of A in 2008, I'm feeling as if I'm still in one of my disturbing dreams; or if not that, then I'm in some "back-to-the-future" movie somewhere.

Look. I'm not trying to get all preachy here or become the "Voice" of this, that or the other (despite that this issue does need more very loud voices); but IMHO, I think it deserves to be seen for what it is and to have everyone look deeper into the issue and do something about it.
I have gobs of information and discussion that I could quote from; but instead will just direct you to an intelligent interview with some eloquent, well researched answers between Rachel Maddow and Melissa Harris-Larwell regarding Proposition EIGHT. It really clears things up.
PLEASE, take a moment to listen to it all. It's not very long.

And so to end my rantings for this Saturday; and to help steer myself away from more days like these, I have put together EIGHT propositions of my own. Here they are:

1). To always have varied media sources.
2). To be aware of what is going on in the WORLD.
3). To always look for people who inspire me.
4). To set aside time for myself.
5). To accept the things I can not change but change the things I can.
6). To only embarrass my child when it is absolutely necessary and "for the cause".
7). To prepare weekend posts ahead of time - and -
8). To have more than one strong cup of coffee in the morning on the days that begin in the Twilight Zone!

L.

The elimination process

Even though I am now forty years of age and have been living in the U.S. since I was eighteen, there are parts of my British cultural heritage that are never far from the surface. I grew up in England, all my family resides in England and I guess my sense of humor never really strayed far from the shores of that green and rain soaked Isle either.

Now, "Brits" are often associated with a number of peculiar obsessions and inexplicable conventions, such as an unhealthy preoccupation with the weather, a manic need to brew tea on the hour every hour, a penchant for avoiding basic dentistry and a widely questioned fixation with the placement of the letter "U" in as many words as humanly possible. Moreover, the Brits are often characterized as being somewhat unemotional if not frigid followers of customary behaviors and as people who operate with a sense of decorum whilst supporting a "stiff-upper-lip." (A term, I might add, that originated in the U.S of A. - according to Bill Bryson's historical study - Made in America).

OK. Given this set of cultural idiosyncrasies, it may seem odd that one British obsession that supersedes all of these quaint and seemingly innocuous virtues is a full blown infatuation with "the bowels". And I mean ... FULL BLOWN.
Not a conversation goes by in my household, or over the phone with my family, without some intestinal reference which usually progresses into an outright description and play-by-play rehash of today's "evacuation" events and processes. We are aware of this, we know it's probably viewed as quirky to say the least. But it is what it is.

So. Imagine my delight this morning whilst listening to reports on our current economic crisis when I learned that the one bright spot in all of this, the one sure-fire item, the one recession proof product in our country today is ..... Toilet paper!!! Yes, folks! Toilet paper!

You know... the fact that "everyone poops" and everyone will continue to poop; and that fact that there is truly no end to the poop and that there is no escape from the poop just seems to validate all those times when I start a conversation with my sister by saying, "Oh, I'm glad I caught the phone - I just got off the Loo"; and she will reply, "Me too! I've been three times already today and thought I was never going to get out of there!"

Oh how it warms the innards of my little Brit soul to know that there will never be a deficit of defecation or the necessary accompanying commodities.

L.

Seconds

So. Today's post title was not my intention at all. Albeit, in retrospect, "seconds" does flow quite nicely after "firsts". But I had a whole different theme in mind for today which was quickly laid to rest after a coup by my typing fingers - catching my mind off guard.
It IS the second day after the historic election. It IS the second time that I have awoken feeling great, it IS the second flirtation with exposing my inner being to the world at large and it IS my second post where I have hope for the future. But more importantly than that even is that it is the second day that we ALL should be glad to have the results that we got on election day and here's why...
It's the second day in and the Media are already all over "what went wrong" for McCain and there are already reports out there in such newspapers as The Guardian claiming that McCain told a British Ambassador that Palin was "more trouble than a pitbull". But even more disturbing is the kind of information coming out in blogs, such as the one by Conservative blogger Andrew Sullivan, who states that essentially Palin was "picked out of a hat"; and even when they realized that she was not up to the task only a few days after picking her, they "went ahead for two months bullshitting us ... and risking the live possibility that she could be the next president of the United States at a moment's notice".

Knowing that the country was wise enough to make a choice away from this kind of under-handed, deceitful, power hungry, do-anything-to-win, "regular Joe's" is why for the SECOND day in a row I am so very proud of what this country did on November 4th 2008.

L.

Addendum

An addendum needs to be made to the line in my first post where I wrote:
"For the first time in forever I feel so hopeful I could shit."

It now reads:

For the first time in forever I feel so hopeful that I DID shit.

L.

Firsts

Well... this is the first time in my own personal history where I have climbed out of bed after a night of intermittent tears and a night of so little sleep with such a long day ahead and announced to the world that I FEEL GREAT!!
This is the first day in my entire life that I have dared to do something that will expose my personal self so publicly; and the first time in my entire life that I do not feel any anxiety about doing so.
Today is the first day that something I have written down will be available on the World Wide Web.
For the first time my son got to watch and be involved in a voting process that will be his right and his duty and his honor; and for the first time he really enjoyed it!
For the first time in a long time the rest of the world is looking at the U.S. with fresh eyes of hope.
For the first time in forever I feel so hopeful I could shit.
I am so proud to be in a place that for the first time in its history voted for hope and real change and elected the first black man, Barack Obama, to be the President of the United States of America.
This is the first of many great days to come.

L.