Auld Lang Syne

Despite the numerous translations you can find online about the real meaning behind Robbie Burns' often quoted poem, I still don't quite get it's relevance on New Year's Eve. And for a seemingly upbeat holiday (for those who chose to celebrate) why such a sad-sounding melody? Even if you've had the worst year of your life, shouldn't we all sing a chipper and hopeful ditty to ring in the possibilities of a fresh start? Perhaps this will be the start of my '09 new year's resolutions: come up with the next wildly popular New Year's jingle that people can have memorized by December 1st because of all the radio stations that now start their holiday playlists the week before Thanksgiving. Auld Song Done.

As we reflect on the past 365 days and look ahead to the next 365, I offer you the top ten stories of 2008 (as chosen by me) following by the top ten potential news stories of 2009.

We'll never forget you, 2008:

10. Good-bye to incredible India: We still often wonder and talk about our Chandan. If we knew how to get in touch with him we'd offer him a room in our house.

9. Hello to new roommies: The perfect ending to our unusual first year of marriage. Jeopardy parties. Learning how to properly dispose of trash. The constant stream of hot meals and endless snacks.

8. Good luck to Barack Obama: City planner, Chicago senator, basketball player, possible anti-Christ (let's just see how he talks his way out of this Blagojevich mess)...he's inheriting approximately 9.6 square kilometers of a brewing pot of dung and hoping to turn it in to surf and turf. It's going to take alot of chicken soup. But if you are to believe all these kids, we can do it. Yes, we can.

7. Good news to pretty girls everywhere: Sarah Palin proved that with a little lipstick and a killer wardrobe, anything is possible for the white toothed, genetically blessed, beauty queens.

6. Good times for the Boston Celtics: After a 21 year absence, they rose to the top again in 2008 and luckily, we were back in the good ol' US of A to witness it. (This was George's pick for top ten stories of 2008.)

5. Bad times for the economy: Economic armaggedon is at hand, my friends. In anticipation of possible bread lines, I'm looking into artisanal bread making. (Courtesy of Santa, I got a book to help me get started.) P.S. If you are worried about all your savings in the bank, I know of a safe, remote haven in the hills of CT where your money can be sent.

4. Introducing the world's newest universal, totally appropriate response to bumbling Heads of State: Shoe-throwing. What did you expect the guy to do? President Bush was making him really mad. (See number 8.)

3. Kudos to tabloids: Madonna and A-Rod WERE really an item after all! Ashlee Simpson WAS really pregnant!

2. The bittersweet taste of flying the coup: The "sweet" of course, is our new house and yard and all that that entails. The "bitter" of course, is summed up in #9.

1. We'll always have Paris: This still goes down as best surprise ever in content and execution and most certainly tops any "best" list that has to do with 2008.


For the top ten potential new stories of 2009, you'll have to check back tomorrow. I need to let my thoughts percolate for another few hours. And maybe have a cocktail or two to help spark some creativity.

Happy New Year!

Rate My Space

We need help. No, it's not the 2 feet of snow that have blanketed the yard, trapping us inside (the Morabito's left us the name of their plow guy), it's our furniture. We have a couch, love seat and oversized chair in a room with a fireplace on one wall and windows on two walls. We want to put a mirror above the fireplace and the TV between two windows. But that leaves the furniture to all be clumped together awkwardly. There are two alcoves beside the fireplace where we'd like to get built-in shelves made.

We're going to move the book shelf there to the right of the fireplace and have considered putting the chair there but then the chair won't have a view of the TV.

Those white doors are to a closet so that limits what we can do with that space to the left of the fireplace. The chair is too big to fit. It blocks the closet and sticks out in the doorway.

Right now, we want to put the TV on the wall across from the chair and couch beside it. Here:
To the left of the window on the left is the bookcase we are going to move. But we want the TV between the windows (no glare?). It looks pretty ghetto in these pictures but it's not that bad in person. Notice the makeshift shrine. (We have no table yet for the vases with Christmas balls, Kath.)

This is all the furntiure, just waiting for the arrival of the TV. But we're not sure how a coffee table will fit and it looks a little awkward because it looks all clumped together with empty space by the fireplace.

As you can see, it's a little sparse right now but we have big plans. And don't you just love the floor and the paint job?

If you can't quite grasp how it looks from these pictures, you'll have to just come over and see for yourselves. Any suggestions?

Happy Holidays

The Christmas tree. Tannenbaum, O, Tannenbaum. Aside from the jolly, old soul, one of the most quintessential of Christmas symbols. But really, what does it symbolize?

Now before you go calling me a grinch, hear me out. I love Christmas. Maybe Christmas has become to commercialized but I like that people (for the most part) buy into the whole idea of "holiday cheer" and "merry greetings." I think combining anything red and green instantly makes people sing fa la la la la.

I love Christmas trees. I like the tiny, shimmering lights. I like the smell of pine. I like the somewhat creepy miniature ornaments. I don't mind watering it. I realize the oddness of bringing a tree inside and decorating it and still, I like it.

But we're not getting a Christmas tree this year. And it's okay.

It wasn't okay a week or two ago but now I feel like Lucy. A Charlie Brown Christmas tree, or no Christmas tree for that matter, does not make or break a holiday season. So why aren't we getting a tree and why am I, the most grinchless of merry-makers, not insisting on this Christmas must-have? We are not getting a tree because there is no place to put it in our 4 bedroom, two story colonial. Okay, there is space - ample space - where a tree could go. We could put it in the empty formal living room with the pristine new hardwood floors. Or we could put it in front of the picture window in the empty dining room (with the bedazzled chandelier). Or, we could put it in the office with the drop clothes, step ladder and paint supplies. There is the family room that now awkwardly filled with a couch, loveseat and oversided chair and ottoman but we haven't actually sat on the new furniture since we can't decide where to put it all. There is always the kitchen but maneuvering around a tree while trying to chop onions seems even more odd that cutting down a tree, dragging it inside and decorating it. We seem to be spending most of our time in the basement with the wood paneling circa 1974 and flourescent lighting. We sit on our old couch and watch the TV mounted in the corner as if we are in a doctor's waiting room. I feel like bringing a tree down there would wilt the poor branches before they even had a chance to dry out.

Still, a week ago I was insistent, "you can't have Christmas without a Christmas tree." And Mr. Claus looked at me and earnestly said, "why not?"
"Because where will we put our presents? Because how will we get in the spirit of the season? Because where will we hang all our ornaments- all 10 of them? Because you just can't." I really believed these things.

But then I really starting thinking about it. And then I bought a poinsetta, and a wreath and hung twinkly lights in the room with too much furniture. And not having a tree didn't seem so bad. I bought two stocking and hung them by the chimney with care. I still am enjoying those holiday greetings and gay, happy meetings when friends come to call. We will put our presents by the poinsetta and little pine branch wreath thing by the fireplace. And sitting in a room with no TV and lots of sitting area is kind of nice...even without a tree.

The Christmas tree does not symbolize Christmas. It does not mean you are Ebinezer Scrooge. It does not mean you are one of Santa's elves. It's absence does not mean Santa won't come to Bethel. Not having a tree has been liberating. Instead of cowering in shame when someone says, "what do you mean, you're not getting a tree?" I can now hold my head high say, I am not getting a tree and I think you, too, should try a Christmas without one. It won't damper your spirits and will make you think a little more about what the holiday season means to you. You'd be surprise what a little red, green and twinkle lights can do to a room without a tree. Of course, we will have one next year. Maybe one in each in room.

But really, what do you need to celebrate the season?


And:
Coming soon...Rate Our Space. We really do need help deciding where to put the furniture we bought...

MIA

We are officially "balling in Bethel," though I'm not sure how much "balling" we are actually doing. There is alot of correcting papers, lesson planning and maneuvering around boxes and piles of stuff that doesn't have a home yet.

I have not completely quit blogging but sadly, I've been reduced to one a month posts - if you're lucky. But keep checking...I will be back...someday...with some profound thoughts...

Happy November

It's been so long but fear not, I have not disappeared completely. We were busy shunning Halloween and celebrating Diwali. Though fireworks were harder to come by here then in Bangalore.

I've also been busy keeping up with election '08 news. I keep forgetting who is running, we hear so little about the candidates. A couple of my favorite recent headlines are: 1. Sarah Palin, who was picked because she is a like-minded maverick, is now being criticized because she is acting like a maverick - speaking without being censored by the McCain campaign. 2. Politicians are now creating infomercials. Forget the qualifications of city planners or small town mayors, why don't we just recruit the country's best sales people for the job? We could just run a 800 number along the bottom of the screen and people could call to place their votes. It works for American Idol and this would eliminate the whole "hanging chad" business. It seems we've already begun to embrace the "early voting" notion though I have yet to figure out why.

At least we have the economy to distract us. With the holiday season upon us (yes, it's true. All the weekend fliers say so), we can also take comfort that were going to see "amazing markdowns" on everything from video games to bath towels. Recession equals opportunity. Buy now. One local restaurant is now offering a "recession special" dinner for two.

The good news is we have our country estate to distract us. In a few weeks, I'll be able to retreat to the one room we have sort of furnished. Buying furniture has not been so fun and not because of the economy. I think my roommate might say it's because I don't have a "style." But I think it's because we haven't actually moved in yet. I need to see the place without any of the Moribito's (current owners) stuff in it.

We went back to the house a couple of weekends ago to take some measurments thinking this might help. All it really helped was to reinforce the fact that I need to see the place empty and not keep thinking about how strange it will be to live in someone else's house. Of course, I realize it is our house now (or soon will be) but I think it's going to take some time before it really starts feeling like ours and I stop thinking about how someone else was washing their dishes in my sink. The most recent trip was not a total wash though. We did get to meet the Moribito's. And as strange as it is for us to think about making it our house, they must be starting to think about how their house isn't really theirs anymore.

The Mister was very gracious and offered to leave us all their paint in case we need to "touch up" anything. We didn't have the heart to tell him not to bother because we are planning to repaint almost every room in different colors. He also asked if we wanted to keep all their bird food. They apparently are big bird watchers. They have "quite a few" bird feeders in the yard. And while he was asking if we wanted the bird food, he was sort of telling us he wanted us to keep the bird feeders. "Well, you don't have to keep them. Eventually the birds will just stop coming because they'll realize there is no more food here. They'll continue to come for a while because we feed them well. We just sit here at the kitchen table and watch them." When I mentioned that my grandparent's always had bird feeders, a look of relief fell over his face. Knowing the birds could continue to visit, he launched into the dangers of the squirrels. They will eat the birds' food if we are not careful. They started panicking again when we started taking measurements of the kitchen. "Are you planning to build something?" We assured them we were not and that we just wanted to know what kind of table would be best. "Well, this was all done by a designer," the misses chimed in. We heard all about how the kitchen was custom designed by a professional designer who really showed them how to maximize their space. Obviously, we would want to keep it the same...unless of course, one of us is a professional designer.

As I said, the exchange of a house from old owners to knew owners is a strange experience for everyone involved. The Moribito's were very nice and gave us lots and lots of hints and tips and places to go and services to use that we will certainly use but at the same time, I wonder what their reaction would be if they were to return in a year or two and see our house, that once was theirs.

In a little more than 3 weeks, we will officially be Balling in Bethel.

Just a regular gal living the American dream...

It’s been a while. Working full time really has a way of cutting into your free time. So now, instead of stressing out about the Dow Jones average plummeting, I spend my days stressing out about getting essays graded and lesson plans organized. The world may be on the brink of imploding but don’t worry, in approximately 4 weeks, Change is coming.

Ask the poor, forlorn AIG sales agents who recently drowned their sorrows and melted away their stress at St. Regis Resort in California. With $150,000 spent on food and $23,000 spent on spa charges, I think it's safe to say they are probably feeling refreshed and decidedly, bailed out.

Rest assured, my fellow Americans, the government will save us if we can just hold on until election day. It doesn't really matter now who you vote for because Change is coming to Washington whether in the form of a "cuppala maverick" or a Harvard law grad. What Change looks like is still unclear. In fact, it's really rather silly to get caught up in such detail because we really just need to focus on the Change. We have from November to January anyway to worry about what that Change actually is. But those interim months will move merrily along as it will be the holiday season. Or, if HGTV is to be believed, the holiday season IS here. You betcha.

I have seen my first holiday commercial - complete with jingle bells, flashes of red, green and gold and snow flakes. I know what you're thinking, "say it ain't so, Joe," Yes, it's true. It's still 70 degrees out but Santa is making his list. Perhaps you could ask Sarah Palin to give the jolly old soul your Christmas list since she is one of the Main Streeters from up there in Wasila. If she can see Russia, I'm sure she's also seen a flying reindeer and some elves too. Wink.

As for me, I'm just hoping to be able to make my mortgage payment and furnish a room or two.

Furniture shopping is like writing an essay. It’s not really that fun while you are doing it but I imagine there will be a sense of accomplishment when we finally see your house all put together. It’s nice to be able to start with a clean slate but at the same time, it’s seeming like a bit too much. We have to pick colors for the walls, colors/patterns for the rugs, color/patterns for the furniture and then figure out what’s going to fit where. Boy, I tell ya, I’m just a house-owning outsider. Gosh darnit, I don’t know whether to pick out my couch first or coffee table. But I tell you what, I’ll tell you straight up what it’s like to walk around a huge warehouse with faux Chinese food eerily placed on a fake kitchen table with an ever present lurker just a few feet behind you – waiting to pounce the minute you feign the slightest interest in something. It’s weird. The furniture salesman is reduced to stalking customers as they weave in an out of fully furnished areas, waiting for a question. My only question is why display a fake spilled coffee mug? Is it to show the fabric is stain-resistant? It certainly doesn’t make me want to buy. But you know how some people are these days, they don’t really want to answer your questions directly. They just want to talk about what they want to talk about so I didn’t bother asking. But there was a bright spot: the carnival sized carousel ride in the corner next to the café.

In the end, I walked out with no more idea of what I want then when I walked in.I’m not sure I really have a “style” and clearly have no experience furnishing houses but I figure if I just bring my folksy charm to Bethel it’ll all work out.

Balling in Bethel...

Financial crisis? What financial crisis?

We've weathered the Balling in Bangalore to Partying with the Parents transition just fine so we're not at all worried about our next big move...into to our very own house. That's right, we bought a house. We'll have our own closets, a bed our feet don't hang off and an extra room for Chandan.

Chez Avery is a white colonial with black shutters and a fabulous yard. Sure Bethel is a little out of the way but, we have a pool. Pool party at our house...happy St. Patty's Day! We'll get the heater going. So what if we'll have nowhere to sit. We'll have gawdy chandeliers to look at and maybe even a fridge to stock so cold beverages. When you get bored with all that, Sir may be able to take you for a ride through the grounds on his John Deere lawnmower (if we are able to convince the old owners that they really don't need to be taking it with them to Texas). He can show you the site of our future putting green and vegetable garden










Bethel has a woodsy charm. From what we've seen, they have a quaint center of town and just alot of houses. I'm sure after a few months, I'll be able to tell you all about the locals at the family run grocery store (no Stop & Shop in our town) and the gossip down at the local coffee shop (so long Starbucks). The nearest big city is Danbury with such crowd pleasers as a big mall, a Home Depot and maybe, if we're lucky, a TGIFridays. We are living the American dream.

Although we may not have enough furniture, at least we can count on our walls to be appropriately decorated, care of our roommates. There are about 3 boxes (that I know of)with my name on containing various invaluables from the Christmas Tree Shoppe. (Nevermind the tagged furniture from various college apartments just waiting in the garage for a home.) Not that any of our roommate's precious belongings will match the blood red carpeting and yellow walls that currently define the "ruby room." Not to be confused with the sapphire room with the classy cubic zarconia and blue gemmed chandelier above the formal dining room table or the marble room, with the enormous marble coffee table and matching marble column-standing lamps. Still, like the savvy house hunters we've become, we managed to look behind the cosmetics and find the potential.





The old owners are planning to be out by Nov. 14 so we're hoping it won't be too much if we ask to sleep over on the 13th.

After months of searching, in a shaky market, we really feel like we struck gold and we can't wait to have all four of you over anytime after November 15. BYOC.

A classy, sassy, salon visit.

It makes me feel good when I get to talk about India like it wasn't that long ago when we were there.

I got my hair cut this week. I looked up hair salons in Milford, CT and liked the webpage of this one salon and called to make the appointment. The woman on the other end of the phone was sticky, sweet nice and sounded all of 22 years old. I called about 2 weeks ago so I took it as a good sign that they couldn't fit me in until this week. Isn't this like eating in a crowded restaurant? It must be good?

I walked into the small salon in the back of some abandoned office building with a "for lease" sign in front. The woman at the reception desk had the same sticky sweet demeanor but was clearly older than 22. She looked to be in her mid-fifties with too blond hair and too much make-up. She smiled a little too long before saying, "you must be Kathleen." She told me I could put my smock on in the bathroom and take a seat in the back room. The place smelled like fresh paint and was tastefully decorated in blues and whites. After I sat down, the receptionist, wearing athletic pants that hugged her thighs but had a flare leg, asked me, "welcome to our salon, Kathleen. We want you to feel as comfortable as possible. Is there something I can get you to drink?" When she came back with my water she asked, "Kathleen, can I get you some reading material while you wait for Lisa?" She came back with some magazines and told me Lisa would be in shortly. Behind me was another chair with a girl wearing an apron reading a magazine. She had short spiky reddish, brown hair and while it looked like she worked there, it didn't look like she works too hard.

Lisa came in a few minutes later. She was very loud and her four inch platform wedges made her appear very tall. "You must have heard about us from Tracey, am I right?" I was thinking about any Tracey's I know while she continued, "Tracey Siddell?" I told her I didn't know Tracey and it must just be some strange coincidence. Lisa cackled. "I just assumed you knew her! How funny. She's coming in around 6:30. That is so funny." It wasn't really that funny but I played along. "So how did you hear about us?" I told her I had just recently moved back to the area and found their website. At this point, the girl behind us is up and tells Lisa all that time she spent on the website is paying off because I am like, the tenth customer that has said this. Lisa says, "I hope so. That damn project was so freakin' tough." She then looks at the girl, "you really have to wear all black?" This hits a nerve with the girl who begins to rant, "yes! Can you believe it?! I mean, I can't like, wear ANY white. Like, nothing, not even a white bra strap. This girl I work with had like, white in her belt and they sent her home. It's crazy! They are like Nazi's." I think about chiming in, though the Nazi's liked the white but I refrain. She and Lisa continue to talk about this second job while the girl fiddles with a leopard print belt. I'm dying to know where she works. "Well, you better get going. Let me know how it goes with that other thing," Lisa says. The girl says they have ALOT to talk about. As the girl leaves Lisa says to me, "she's such a sweetheart."

Finally, we get to my hair. Lisa tells me that since she's not ready to start giving Fall and Winter cuts she's going to give me a good "summer clean up." Fine. "So where were you living before?" I tell her that we actually moved back from India. "INDIA! Wow. What were you doing there? I'm so fascinated by people who travel. I can't wait to hear about it. I'll be right back." She disappears to the front room and leaves me for another couple of minutes. I start telling her a little about India and that it was dirty and crowded but we loved it. As I begin to tell her more, I am surprised that it feels like we just returned. I tell her that the people were really warm and friendly. "Yeah, people say that about them." I tell her we were surprised to find so many more Indian restaurants here and a big Indian grocery store in town. She says, "yeah. There is a HUGE population of Indian people and tell you the truth, I find them to be very rude. There are some that live in those shabby apartments there and near my house. I don't know what it is, if it's all the 7-11's or what?" I look up to see if she is cracking a smile thinking she must be trying to make a joke but in a serious tone she continues, "but I mean, I guess they can still make more here in a convenience store then they can there, huh?" She doesn't wait for an answer. "Did you find them to be really backwards?" I try to tell her about how different their culture is but that I wouldn't say it's backwards. "Well, at least you are home now." I guess she didn't hear me when I said we didn't want to leave. She then launches into some story about how she had an American customer once who was married to an Indian and they came to the salon together. The Indian husband did all the talking while the American wife didn't say anything and was totally submissive to her husband. "You know what I did," she has moved in front of me so I can see her, "I ignored him. I asked the woman what she wanted and I told him," she is pointing her shears at me as if I am the Indian man, "I said, you listen to me. I am the owner of this salon and I deal only with my customers. I give them the cut they want so I will do what your wife asks me to do." She is looking at me and I think she is waiting for some reaction from me. "They are backwards. You can't treat your wife that way." She then began talking about how they smell but are pretty. "You walk behind them, and it just...stinks. But really, they can be very pretty. It's too bad really." I guess pretty shouldn't stink.

As it turns out, the farthest she has traveled has been to New York City. She has lived in Milford for almost 30 years but grew up in Stratford. She really loves Milford and can't understand why you would want to live anywhere else. She has been a business owner for about 20 years and is really involved with "the Chamber" (of commerce) and really has so many connections here. Why, last night at the Chamber meeting, she was talking to Tim who was asking how the salon was coming. I heard all about how she just moved to this new location from down the street. She was having trouble with her old landlord but because she is so active with the Chamber, she was able to find another space pretty easily. I mean, she had to completely gut the place but she really likes how it turned out. Her boyfriend helped with most of the work which was good because she didn't have to pay for the labor but bad because she had to work around his schedule. The receptionist came back at one point to say that Karen was on the phone and she wanted to stop by. Lisa told her she should stop by her house later because she has her kids tonight but apparently Karen was in the neighborhood. A few minutes later Karen comes in and she and Lisa are talking about how Lisa is going to be at the salon until at least 9 tonight and then she has to get home because she has her kids tonight. I know I go to sleep early but isn't it kind of late to be spending quality time with your kids at 9:30 at night? But I'm even more curious to know if this is why she doesn't have custody of them. But I couldn't tell how old Lisa is so maybe her kids are older. Karen wanted to have a "girls night" on Friday but Lisa said she had to meet with her lawyer so she wasn't sure. Karen said, "you're going to meet with your lawyer on a Friday night?" Lisa said, "well, we just have to work out some of this lease stuff so we're going to discuss it over a couple glasses of wine. So you should just stop by the Bistro."

She told me when I come back we should do a "chunky, winter bang." Right. When I come back, I'm bringing a video camera and selling the footage as the next big reality show. A classy, sassy, Milford salon.

I didn't become a teacher to work five day weeks.

First five day week. I survived though it was tough: first there were class pictures, then September 11 and then getting to know my students better.

Whoever started Lifetouch Studios was a genius. Every year, schools around the nation send home order forms to hundreds of parents who surely feel obligated to write a check and send little Jane to school in her Sunday best for her yearly school picture. Of course, through the years they have improved the basic models with fancy "starburst" backgrounds instead of the plain blue/gray. And this year, at least at JBHS, students also had the option of four different "poses."

The idea was that freshmen would have their pictures taken first, followed by sophomores. They scheduled them alphabetically and each group was given a twenty minute window before the next group was supposed to head down. Fine idea but only one photographer showed. "It's crazy down there. There is only one lady down there and she's just screaming at us," says one student. "Nobody knows what's going on and they are just sending people away," so I came back but some people are just skipping their classes," says Joe, one of my special needs students, who is part of the Rules Police. "Everybody wants pose 3 so there is just this huge line." Pose three apparently was the standard, slight head tilt pose. Ran like a well oiled machine. So for two days, not much was accomplished with my freshmen. The Administration was so balled up they decided to reschedule the sophomores.

On September 11, students and faculty were encouraged to wear red, white and blue, there was a memorial service and a moment of silence at 8:46. Also a fine idea. I was in class with my freshmen. There are six or seven special needs kids in the class so I have a paraprofessional with me, Mrs. O. This also happens to be on the first of the two picture days so keep in mind kids are coming in and out of class, confused about pictures as I am trying to keep together some semblance of a lesson - which has now turned into, "whoever is here, complete this map. Leave when you have to leave for your picture." A few minutes later, the principal comes over the PA system as says the appropriate 9/11 memorial words followed by a moment of silence. The kids are appropriately silence but you can tell, just sort of waiting for the moment to pass so they can pick up there pencils and start writing again. Next thing I know, I hear sniffles behind me. It's Mrs. O, looking like she is either on the verge of pulling herself together or just openly weeping. At this point, Lizzy, who is very thoughtful, deliberate and somewhat long-winded, (she's "special") launches into a soliloquy about how she remembers sitting in her second grade class watching TV as the planes "smashed so violently" against the buildings. Now Mrs. O is weeping and apologizing and I'm thinking she is going to excuse herself but she does not. The last ten minutes of class was a complete wash as Mrs. O struggled to explain the magnitude of the event and how she's just emotional by nature and that she didn't know how appropriate it was for second graders to watch.

But I am happy to have Mrs. O in class. She is a help. She's been a paraprofessional for years and seems to have some good suggestions for when you have a conversation like this with a student. As the kids are leaving I say to Jacquie, who is still getting her books together (and is special), "Jacquie, you seemed like you made alot of important of important points with Mrs. O when we were in groups. You should share them with the class."
"But then I would have to raise my hand," she says without looking at me.
"Well, yes. When you raise your hand, I'll know to call on you."
"But if I raise my hand, everyone will stare. All the kids turn around and look at me like I'm stupid."
"They're not looking at you like you're stupid. They want to hear what you have to say. When someone else raises their hand, you look at them and I'm sure you aren't thinking they are stupid."
"Yes I am." She still hasn't made eye contact with me.
"You think when someone raises there hand to make a comment or ask a question, they are stupid?"
"Yes. Stupid and disruptive. Students shouldn't raise there hands."
I tried to explain the value of participation and questions but I'm sure she didn't buy it. It's going to be a fun year.

Grandma Palin

Enough already with Sarah Palin. And with Bristol Palin. And with Bristol Palin's baby-daddy. I guess McCain can consider his choice a success if his goal was to get people talking. Perhaps he did listen to Paris Hilton and has come to believe that bad publicity is better than no publicity. Or perhaps he just wanted to solidify his reputation as McMaverick. It's not the fact that her 17 year old daughter is pregnant that makes me think she is somewhat unfit to be the President's #2, it's more that she has five children, has been governor for less than two years and is seemingly ultraconservative. Half of what she said in her convention speech it turns out is far from true. She did try to sell the governor's jet on eBay but so what? She didn't really have to say, "thanks but no thanks" to the bridge to nowhere because the bill had already gone nowhere in Congress. Sure there are some questions about the ethics behind the possible role she played in getting her ex-brother-in-law fired from his state trooper job but even that doesn't really concern me. (I think since 24 hour news coverage has become the norm, no one in politics seems to be free from questionable ethics at one point or another. On the Nixon tapes-Clinton/Lewinski Political Ethics scale, Palin trying to get her sister's ex-husband fired seems to rate safely in the "not worthy of impeachment" zone.)

I heard some women on the radio the other day say, "if she can't manage her own family, how can we expect her to manage the country." While I do question her readiness for the Vice Presidency, I do not think this is fair. I don't think you can say Sarah Palin or her parenting skills are the cause of her daughter's pregnancy. She may have had countless "talks" with young Bristol but at the end of the night, Bristol makes her own decisions. (Kind of like George H.W. Bush advising young George W...at the end of eight years, he's made his own decisions. Dubya's mind can be compared to that of a 17 year old, no?) What is more concerning (or maybe just admirable) is this idea that a grandmother-to-be with a toddler of her own trying to say she can work two non-stop jobs. I can barely work a full time teaching job and find enough free time to go to the grocery store, cook dinner and get to the dry cleaners and I don't have any children. If, by some tragic twist of destiny, she did finish the job Hilary started and crashed through cracked glass ceiling, landing the Palin's in Washington, I know I will have to lay off the criticisms (at least for the first few days) and applaud her "women can have it all" accomplishment.

But maybe my concerns are unfounded. After all, Connecticut's own Republican female governor, Jodi Rell said earlier in the week that as governor, Palin has more "administrative" experience than any of the other candidates. She said that Senators essentially share the responsibilities of a state between the two of them but governors are solely responsible for the running of their states. Rudy Giuliani has echoed these sentiments basically saying that serving as mayor of Wasilla, Alaska (pop. 10,000) and New York City (pop. 8,000,000) is essentially the same thing. So maybe all of us nay-sayers and cynics are wrong. Maybe she is the most qualified and best possible candidate of all the Republicans. But continuing to talk about her daughters pregnancy will not convince me of this.

I guess we should all just be happy that campaign season and hurricane season happen to fall in the Fall because now we have options. We can now choose between Sarah, John, Joe and Barack and Gustav, Hanna, Ike and Josephine. And when all else fails, there's always Thursday night, Saturday, Sunday and Monday night football.

Go G-men.

First Days of School

It's the unofficial end of summer. Officially. I've finished my first three days of school and as far as first days go, I'll say they were a success. Most of my classes seem good except for one painfully quiet class (there could be worse things). Here are the highlights from the week:

Our Principal is a Dwight Shrute look-alike. He doesn't have quite the same personality but when you talk to him you're almost expecting to hear, "Fact: JBHS is the best school ever." He disappoints every time. It is a well discussed topic among the faculty but I'm not sure if he's in on the joke.

Popular names circa 1993-94: Charlotte, Rachael, Allison and for boys: Adam and Sean.

The guy I am teaching the Contemporary issues/journalism class is very loud, very talkative and has been teaching the course for a number of years. So he's definitely been taking the lead but I think as we get more comfortable with one another it will be fine. Oh, and by the way, he was "teacher of the year" last year. I'm hoping I can learn a thing or two from him.

We gave a "quiz" on day one. Mostly current event/government type questions. The good news is: everyone knew George Bush was the President and only one person missed the VP. Other fun answers: For Secretary of state we got, Condoleeza Rights, "that black lady," and even a shout out to Jodi Rell the Connecticut governor. (At least they knew she was someone in government.) When asked to write what they know about Obama and McCain's platform, someone just wrote "pro-abortion" for Obama and "oil" for McCain. Four of 27 passed.

In my sophomore World Geography class, we were talking about the American culture and identity and I had given them a short reading called, "The Sacred Rac." It tells the story of the Asu tribe who worships the animal, the "rac" (much like the sacred cow of Indian). The story is really about the USA (Asu) and our obsession with the car (rac). The woman who wrote the story cleverly writes about how we care for our cars, the benefits and the negatives of cars. Anyway, we are reading it together and at the first mention of the "sacred rac," I hear little boy giggles. At points there is mention of the "racs" growing - more giggles. Finally, I ask, "what is so funny?" And as I am saying it, I get it. The term rac in their sophomoric minds, also refers to a woman's chest. What fun 14 year old boys can be.

Same World Geography class: I tell them I spent the last year in Bangalore, India. A hand goes up. "Wait, isn't that in China?" I say, "You mean India?"
"No, that city you said, Bangkok."
"Oh, no I was in Bangalore. Bangkok is in Thailand."
"Well, isn't that in China?"
A third party jumps in. "No, you idiot. Thailand is a country."
"So isn't it next to China then?"
His friend says, "no, it's like, near Japan. It's like an island."
It could be a long year.

In other news, I think McCain might have given the Presidency to the Democrats. If he thought he was going to woo Hillary voters by simply picking a women, then he really doesn't get it. From what I have learned so far, she is an ardent pro-life supporter, she wants to drill her native Alaskan land for oil, she voted to ban gay-marriage, she has no foreign policy experience, plus she, by her own admission, is sort of a newcomer to politics. Seeing as McCain is not exactly a spring chicken, am I supposed to see this as a sound, responsible decision. What if he kicks the bucket in office? We'll be under the leadership of a inexperienced, socially conservative beauty queen who still is not convinced that global warming is in part, caused by pollution. Interesting choice, McCain. We'll see you for a final farewell in Minnesota.

Back to School

First impressions of the new job:

1. Will interfere with blogging.

2. Teachers can be an odd bunch. Example: "There's a human skull in my classroom. That's so awesome." (He is an anthropology teacher, but still.)

3. I am one of 4 (or 5?) new Social Studies teachers. This is both good and bad. Good because everyone is very nice and helpful but bad because things seem to be a bit chaotic. Example: I say, "so where do we need to be at the end of the semester, just to the end of Ancient Greece?" One of the veterans says, "well, not necessarily. I mean, that's how we did it last year but this is all negotiable. We sort of have this curriculum but we don't really follow it." New guy 1 says (as I am thinking) "so the curriculum online is not really what we should use?" Veteran 2 says, "well you could..."

4. I was part of a real life "breakfast club" today. We were working on curriculum and there was the perky cheerleader, the jaded cynic, the jock, the nerd, the leader and me. What does that make me?

5. I'm surprisingly calm despite the fact that I'm still unclear as to what exactly I am supposed to be teaching and when, they don't use textbooks, I still don't have keys to my classroom and the kids come next week.

6. I'm thinking I should find out who Joel Barlow is seeing as I am teaching at a school named after him.

7. I do think I will like it there.

Go Falcons!

Beijing '08

Where to begin? The Russians in Georgia, John Edwards, Michael Phelps, the rest of the Olympics, the iPhone...

Michael Phelps: Greatest athlete ever? I am a former swimmer so I am sympathetic to the "swimming is difficult" argument. However, I am a former swimmer so I am also sympathetic to the idea that great athletes should maybe show some sense of hand-eye coordination. Then again, didn't we have this same discussion after Lance Armstrong came back from the cancer to win 7 Tours? So really, I think these "best athlete ever" arguments are fundamentally flawed. How do you compare a swimmer to a golfer to a basketball player? Shouldn't the best athlete ever be good at lots of different sports? Or is basketball a more "athletic" sport because it involves a ball? I guess more importantly, why does it really matter? Isn't it enough to dominate your sport? Why must we always try to rank everything? Some people think he is absolutely the greatest athlete ever while others think he wouldn't make a list of the top 100 athletes. The only time people really talk about swimming, track, gymnastics, ice skating, skiing and the like, is during an Olympic year. I think Michael deserves, and will get more than his 15 minutes, but I'm not sure that he will continue to remain in conversations with Tiger, Roger, Michael Jordan and Babe Ruth. Although, wouldn't it be fun if he did make swimming "cool."

But aside from all that talk about his athleticism and his actual swimming, am I the only one that wants to know what's up with his father? How come Bob Costas isn't asking about his dad? Everyone now knows he has two sisters and was diagnosed with ADHD and that he was raised by a "single mother." His mother has been getting almost as much press as her son and has given interviews about the hardships they overcame and their relationship so...doesn't this beg the question, what happened to Mr. Phelps? I mean, I'd rather hear about that than how many eggs he eats for breakfast or what size shoe he wears. But maybe this is the Ellen (my mother) in me. We're a curious people.

Which is why I'd also like my man Bob Costas to ask, how exactly does one get into fencing or canoing or trampolining for that matter? These are all just a few of the events that I happened to have caught on TV at some point. I was watching the local news, which I don't really like to make a habit of, and they had a short blurb on an Olympic fencer (I think she got the silver) who was a Yale student. But they didn't get at how that happened. "Hey, honey, how about we sign you up to sword fight instead of ballet this year?" There was also a local Connecticut girl who was competing in the shooting events. Again, how does one decide to get his or her child involved in shooting? For fun. With a real gun. Trampolining and canoing I can kind of see only because kayaking and gymnastics are so popular. But what makes you say, "you know what, I think I'd be better in a canoe?" Aren't canoes for picnicking and leisurely afternoon on British rivers? (Canoing always seems like a very British thing to do.) Presumably gymnasts practice on trampolines but what makes you say, "I'd rather not take this to the floor/beam/bars and just keep jumping." The good thing is, these less popular sports are more difficult to find although, I'm still not sure I needed to see synchronized diving and hours of beach volleyball.

But perhaps some of my favorite Olympic moments were those that involved our fearless leader. We saw he and former President Putin briefly chatting and then on less official business, him giving Misty May a very awkward pat on the back. He did make time for Bob (Costas) too and definitely seemed more comfortable talking about his love of beach volleyball, his awe of Michael Phelps and basketball than US relations with China and the Russians invading Georgia. We did learn that he and Putin were not just talking split times in the swimming stands but that he was very firm in telling Russia that their actions are unacceptable. He also seemed to suggest that it was a regional conflict and that the US didn't have much business stepping in. (Let's hope they don't start talking about WMDs.) One of his staffers though seemed to have prepped him well on the issue of China though. He kept repeating that we have to engage China, that we have deep respect for them and that our disagreements are healthy. He also reassured me and the rest of the American viewers by proclaiming that the US has no problems. Phew. And I thought I would never be accepted for a home mortgage.

I would get into John Edwards at this point but my iPhone has finally arrived and it's just begging me to start setting it up. Just think, now I can blog from anywhere. Lucky you.

Embracing the "staycation"

Two of my roommate's were away last week. Not that George and I, in our early 30s, don't LOVE living with my parent's but it's not exactly the ideal situation (for anyone I presume). Even though I grew up here, there are some rules that I have since let go of and some ways of doing things that I forgot were the norm. And seeing as we are the guests and it is not our house, we have been adjusting to the way of life at 135 Carmen Road. So, when the roomies went to Maine and Canada last week, you could stay that George and I had a "staycation" of sorts. (Staycation of course, being the new catch phrase of the summer of '08. Don't spend your gas money on a fancy trip to Canada, instead stay home and be entertained ("cationed") by the daily, severe thunderstorms.)

A staycation is really no substitute for a vacation. However, it did provide for some "scandalous" deviation for standard operating procedure and gave us a glimpse into home ownership. Here's a bit of what we learned and fun we had:

1. Home ownership is not all it's cracked up to be. What happens when lightening strikes? Not that it actually struck anything but what if it had hit a tree that then crashed into the house? As the rain and hail came pelting down, cascading over the gutter that looked clogged, I got to thinking, who wants to clean gutters? (Not to mention the "how" of the equation.)

2. Flowers, while lovely, are delicate little creatures. Too much sun, too much rain, too cold, too windy - they're like whiny, little children. Gardening is not for the lazy (I suppose neither are children for that matter).

3. Opening windows does wonders in cooling down a big wooden box baking under the summer sun. Some people, who are arguably set in their ways, sometime long ago - ten? twenty? thirty? - years ago decided that it was just silly to open windows in the house for fear that when (not IF), when it rains, we won't have to worry about the inside of the house getting wet. So, on bright sunny, summer days, we won't be made fools. You know how quickly those summer clouds can creep up.

4. The dishwasher. An amazing invention. Instead of you, washing dishes, they have these machines now where you put your dirty dishes, fill it with soap, push a button and voila, an hour later, your dishes are cleaned. This machine doesn't get much use around here because my father likes to say, "with the few dishes that we accumulate, it's just easier for me to do them." I have no doubt that when it's just he and Betty Crocker (with all their home cooking), this is true. But he's been saying this for years - even when he had four kids dirtying dishes throughout the day. "You keep filling that stupid machine up with dirty dishes, then any time you are looking for a clean one, there aren't going to be any. They'll all be sitting in there." The thing is, my parent's have enough dishes to entertain half of Milford.

5. I'm not sure if this is sad, scary or funny. But we kept the Jeopardy! torch alive in their absence. A strange thing happens here at 7 pm. It's like a gravitational pull that circles the house, pulling my parents in front of the TV. When they are not here, I think whoever is around just gets sucked into the pull.

6. By the end of the week, I think we were actually starting to grow into our roles as homeowners. George was found crouching over the lawn, analyzing the difference between lowering the lawnmower blades and raising it. He was mumbling something about the dampness due to the rain. While I could be heard yesterday saying, "stop getting crumbs all over this rug I just vacuumed," after the niece and nephew stopped by.

7. Last, but maybe the most fun of all...we didn't clean the garbage. The same man who doesn't believe in dishwashers does have a thing about smelly garbage. This may sound ridiculous to you but how many of you can say that you've never had some creature of the night break into your garage, lured by the intising scent of garbage. That's what I thought. Because our Chinese food containers are soaped clean, we can proudly proclaim, "our garbage doesn't stink" and mean it.

And even though my father will read this at some point, I'll also confess that we broke one last cardinal house rule: we took the garbage out on Wednesday night. Papa roommate doesn't do this. Ever. The garbage men come on Thursday morning ergo, the garbage goes out Thursday morning. We risked a potential garbage disaster and came out ahead. Said animals did not come and knock any of the cans (containing, dirty, smelly trash) over. We even had fish remains from (gasp!) Sunday night. (Also a big no, no. Fish or other foul smelling foods should ideally be consumed on Wed. so that it can be hauled away promptly in 12 hours.)

We really lived it up during our staycation. We sure did.

Who doesn't love the Olympics?

If religion divides us, maybe it is sports which unites us. By us, I mean, the world. The whole 6 billion of us.

The Olympics start today and I'm finding it difficult to come up with another international event or ceremony that has lasted hundreds of years - enduring wars, deaths, bad press and boycotts. Sure, there have been changes in events and rules but overall, the idea of a worldwide sporting competition has outlived all the controversy. Even though the games are, and have been, very political, the idea of nations putting aside differences (for the most part) and really just celebrating our similarities is comforting and reassuring. Once you get past medal counts and doping scandals, isn't it kind of fun to watch people from all over the world come together for one common goal? How can you not feel just a little bit excited to watch?

I read somewhere that there will be more hours of television coverage than actual hours of competition in Beijing. As much as I like the Olympics, I am not sure I'm going to be glued to the TV for the next two weeks. But the fact that there is going to be uber-coverage, not only on TV but also online and even in newspapers and magazines, I think is also a testament to the power and continuing popularity of the Olympics. Compared to most of the junk that normally is on primetime television, I for one, welcome excessive coverage of the enduring international tradition of the Olympics. Maybe this will help us (again, the 6 billion of us) see that we are actually more alike than we'd like to believe.

But maybe I'm the only one to see it this way. On the way to see a couple of houses today, I was with the male half of the Hanson Realty Group, and we got to talking about the Olympics. Steve said he wasn't sure if he was interested or not in the Olympics - which also seems like a typical Steve response. He said he is a little turned off by the whole thing - the coverage, the testing for drugs, the taking away of medals from fallen athletes, the political/environmental problems in China - he just isn't sure he really cares. I told him I like the feel-good stories and am interested in how Beijing appears to which he said that maybe he was interested. He didn't know.

I'll tell you who I don't think will be watching, the woman who lives in one of the houses that I saw. From the outside, it looked like an ordinary ranch that had had an addition. There were two cars in the driveway and the garage door was opened. We walked up to the front door and knocked. Steve peered in the picture window next to the door and said that he saw someone inside so he knocked again. I heard someone coming out of the garage and said, "I think they just came out through the garage."
"Huh. Someone is still standing in the corner it looks like."
"Hello," says a voice from the driveway.
Steve walks down and says he is a real estate agent to show the house.
"Oh, well you have the key then?" The women is wearing shorts pulled up to her chest and with short frizzy, curly hair and big glasses circa 1970.
Steve says he does have the key and head back up to the front door as the woman drives off in her car.

We walk into to a small living room area and in the corner is a full sized, fully dressed (in all black) mannequin (with a wig of black long hair). But now don't go thinking that the poor old lady goes around talking to a mannequin...there was a sister mannequin lurking in an opposite corner. "This is interesting," Steve says as I make my way, past the purple Wiccan star symbols hanging against the window and the shelf above with bottles labeled "witches brew," to the small kitchen. From the kitchen you could walk out to a deck but to be honest, I was a little afraid what I might find so I went down a hallway passing to bedrooms and a bathroom. One bedroom was entirely wallpapered - including all the doors. The blue wallpaper with the tiny white and pink flowers seemed to contradict the decor of the rest of the place with turquoise and black furniture. At the end of the hallway was a door with sign that read: "Behind this door is the master bedroom, family room, bathroom and second kitchen." I was almost afraid to open it for fear that in any of the aforementioned areas, there might be a cauldron, a black cat or a pointy, black hat but Steve charged forward.

If you could get passed the third, headless but fully dressed, mannequin, the family room was a really great room. It had wood beams on the ceiling and was bright and roomy. Off that room was a very large master bedroom with a pink, flowery decor. There was a staircase heading to a lower level off the family room too. Down the stairs was what looked like a normal, finished basement. However, the room had been cut in half with one half a complete working kitchen included oven and dishwasher. In the other half of the room was a fireplace facing a lay-z-boy chair. Next to the chair was a contraption that looked like the lamp/sink that are normally found next to a dentist's chair. There was no sink but there was a tray about half way down the lamp with nail clippers or something on the tray. As my sister said, perhaps the second kitchen is where the witches brew is concocted. Steve's comment was, "I wonder if the city knows about this." We had to traverse back through the house to get back to the front door. I was really trying to look beyond the decor and picture the place empty. But as we walked through the first room with the mannequins, I was trying to imagine pictures of my nieces and nephews on the mantle when I saw the "piece de resistance" of the place - a framed dead bat.

As we got back in the car, we noticed the bumper sticker on the second car in the driveway. "My other ride is a broom." And, as we took our first left onto Druid Lane, I told Steve that I'm sure that is not our house.

Enjoy the Olympics.

If the Universe is trying to talk to us, how can you know what the real message is?

It's been brought to my attention that the blogs have been depressing some. I guess my, "we're killing the environment; we're all going to die; doomsday is at hand" rants, I've been bringing you down. Go figure.

Today, I'll go all "10,000 Thing to be Happy About" and try to lift your spirits with some light and fluffy fun news.

Congratulations to me! It's official. I will be a full time working woman in just a few weeks. The pay is good. The district is highly regarded. My classes seem very cool. The people (the few that I have met) seem very nice. If this isn't the best news you've heard all day, you may as well stop reading.

I've never read, "The Secret" but I think I get the gist. Think good thoughts and good things will happen. A few weeks ago I happened to catch Oprah who was doing a similarly themed show about the "law of attraction." It was kind of hokey in an Oprah sort of way, but the idea seemed to be "if you build it, they will come." One of her guests talked about how she uses daily affirmations to "attract" the things she wants in life. One of her favorites was, "the world is conspiring with me." They also discussed how the universe is speaking to us all the time, we just have to be open and listen to hear what it is telling us. Normally, I'd like to think that as soon as I heard these guests going on about their "vision boards" (think, 11 year old collage project complete with pics of Hannah Montana who you're just dying to meet and the Jonas Brothers who are sure you will some day marry), I would have changed the station faster than you can say, "The Power of Now." But, having been rejected from a job I thought for sure was in the bag, living at home with my parents and having no new job prospects on the horizon, I figured it couldn't hurt to do a little Oprah therapy myself.

Not only did I get this new job at Joel Barlow High School, but I also got called for an interview for another job I applied to at the University of Bridgeport a few weeks ago. The position is for an International Student Advisor which I easily talked myself into believing was my dream job. It is a phone interview and tomorrow I will listen to what they have to say even though I've really already made my decision. But I have to say, this is one of those instances which makes me think maybe the universe is trying to talk to me. The trouble is, I have no idea what the message is here. After spending most of the summer feeling like I must be the world's worst teacher, I have finally come to terms with "maybe it's not me, it's them." I am excited about this new school district and excited about they classes I will be teaching. So why, on the day before I signed the contract, did I finally get a call from a job I applied to back in June? Perhaps a vision board will sort it all out. Not that I'm complaining. Having one job and still being wanted for another...I'll just call that plain good news. No buzz kill here.

What else to lift your spirits?

People are finally starting to ask about what Obama's really going to do for us. Is he more like Paris Hilton or say, Hillary Clinton? I think this can only be good.

Grey's Anatomy is coming back on soon. Or, in like, four weeks but let's start talking about it now. Not that I've ever watched it but it seems like it's a crowd pleaser.

Morgan Freeman is doing better post car crash.

I got a job. But not to worry. I'll continue to bring you, my two dear readers, more from the still "nameless" blog.

There is now a "social networking" website for dogs. After Rover takes his Ritalin, he can log on to doggiespace.com to talk to other ADD dogs. OMG!

Gorillas may soon be taken of the "critically endangered" list as 100000 have miraculously been found in Africa. We're obviously not developing enough if 100000 gorillas can just appear out of the mist. (I couldn't resist.) Call McDonald's. Tell them there some prime real estate the Congo.

I'm really not a pessimist but when these are our "feel good" stories of the moment, just what is the universe trying to say? (Besides, congratulations to me...)

Pollution

I'm really worried about the environment. I don't know how you couldn't be. Unless of course, you live in "the now" and don't put much thought into what's happens tomorrow. Or you vacation on ritzy Mediterranean beaches or expect a picture perfect Olympics.

Everywhere I turn, it seems Mother Earth is crying on my shoulder with her big, acid rain tears, whispering with her 100 mph hurricane winds "help me, help me," and yet as Beijing tries to cover their smog with a big aerosol can of air freshener, Mother Earth is clawing at my ankles with jellyfish pleading that my small little herb garden is not enough. And I know that it is not. Pollution not only grayed our skies and suffocated our fish, but it's like it's seeped into every aspect of our world. The economy is polluted. Politics are polluted. Our food is polluted. Society is polluted.

Jellyfish, from the shores of Long Island Sound in Connecticut to the shores of St. Tropez in the Mediterranean, are invading. The stories I have read in our local papers and Time magazine paint it as a "look who's going to ruin your summer vacation" story instead of a "look who's lives you have ruined because you enjoyed one two many lobster rolls on your vacation." It is apparently no big mystery why there is the sudden onslaught of jellyfish - less tuna, shark and other big fish due to overfishing means less predators eating the jellyfish. (That, and rising water temperatures.) Some of the more prestigious towns have invested thousands of dollars and Euros to install nets offshore to keep the gelatinous blobs away from card paying customers. Doesn't it seem like there might be a better use of these funds? Now, if I am paying thousands of dollars to go bake in the Mediterranean sand, of course I'm going to be disappointed if I can't also enjoy the crystal blue Sea. But at least I might think twice before ordering the tuna tartar for dinner. If I'm just encouraged to soak my sunblocked body in the water because my 5 star hotel has made arrangements to hide the pesky stingers from me, I might think my carbon footprint disappears with the tide and go for the tuna and the mahi mahi.

It's like trying to hide the fact that Beijing is covered by a constant blanket of smog thanks to progress and "modernization." How about instead of trying to temporarily clean it up, they just the world see how quickly China has risen to (almost) become the world's biggest polluter. Again, if I have tickets to go watch Michael Phelps win a historic eighth medal, would I be more comfortable somewhere where I didn't have to wear a mask to breathe? For sure. But if I see how bad it really is, maybe just maybe, I and the 5,000 people surrounding me in the stands will be inspired to do something. If I see how clean and fresh the air is, I might get to thinking that Al Gore is the one full of hot air. Why not use the Olympics or the pain of dealing with jellyfish on your vacation as a platform to get people motivated to do more, no matter how little. Covering up the damage we've done is like censoring information on human rights violations in Tibet, Darfur and Myanmar and pretending the holocaust didn't exist.

The environment is not a collective, dirty little secret. It's dirty but it's no secret. It's becoming the elephant in the room. We can't just keep pretending like there is no problem (or that it's someone else's) and hope it just goes away. The jellyfish will keep coming. The hurricanes will just get stronger and the smog will eventually suffocate us all. Mother Earth is talking. How about we stop trying to talk over her and just listen?

NASA wants more money to launch more rockets into orbit but I'm sure they haven't come up with a hybrid or alternative fuel spaceship. I guess there is hope that once we have really, irrevocably destroyed this world, there is always Father Mars.

A Room of One's Own

Virginia Wolfe saw the necessity in having a room of one’s own. I’ve been wondering if this is all I need – a room to write. A space where I won’t be distracted by the refrigerator, my roommates or the squirrels that I swear have multiplied exponentially since last summer. So I’ve been experimenting with getting out of the house.

Today, I’m at my semi-local Starbuck’s. I tried my local-local Starbucks (approximately 0.4 miles down the road) but it didn’t have the cozy chairs of this Starbucks. But still, I’m not sure this is my room to write. There are two older men. One is sitting in a padded purple chair looking like the Marshmallow Man from Ghostbusters. He is wearing a baseball cap, glasses, dirty white sneakers with equally dingy white socks and a could-be, cheap gold watch. (I can’t say I know my expensive from inexpensive jewelry.) He was quietly reading a Dean Koontz novel, resting the book on the first roll beneath his chin. Then his friend came in like the Anti-Norm from Cheers. Whereas Norm would walk in, the guests in the bar shouting his name while Norm would simply wave and quietly take his seat, this guy walked in announcing his entrance in a booming voice while the crowd just kind of looked up. His friend, reading the Koontz novel, gave him a small wave while the boisterous man made his rounds saying hello to the seven people behind the counter. I believe we (we, the Starbucks community) call them baristas. (For minute, I forgot if I was in Connecticut or India, with the overabundance of coffee specialists, but I suppose with the complicated menu it takes three people to complete one order.

Anyway, Bruce – the loud guy – has proceeded to stand around a chair for a while making noise before finally taking a seat as if he is waiting for applause (simply to say, “oh, no, no, thank you. You’re too kind.”) Bruce tells the Dean Koontz fan (D.K.F) that he is surprised to see him what with gas prices through the roof. DKF slyly smiles and says he’s come for his free iced coffee. Bruce laughs a little too loudly and gives DKF a “that’s a good one” elbow nudge. DKF says he’s serious. Wednesdays are free iced coffee days at Starbuck’s. Well, at this Bruce is up at of his chair again, yelling across the small sitting area to the perky barista who is up cleaning tables with a dirty rag and an unmarked spray bottle. “Hey, how come I didn’t know about these free iced coffees? What, is this only for certain customers?” He’s laughing and has attracted the attention of an Asian guy who seems equally eager to hear about this free coffee business. The girl says that the offer is good on any sized iced coffee and has been going on for about a month. Bruce continues to push the joke that maybe he is somehow a discriminated customer, boxed out of the secret. He sits back down. The girl jokes back saying it has nothing to do with the fact that she saw him outside of the Starbuck’s recently (maybe at the beach?) and she waved at Bruce who ignored her. He says, “Impossible. Of course I would say hello!” I’m sure he would especially if it would’ve attracted the attention of a small crowd. She says that perhaps he just didn’t recognize her without her green apron. She was in shorts and a tank top. Bruce says, “well then of course I would notice you if you were in shorts and a tank top!” The girl is not small (in fact, she is awkwardly large) and I can’t help but feel like our funny Bruce is making kind of a cruel (or at least ignorant) comment. Something about the way he stressed, “of course I would SEE YOU…” as he continued to laugh more at her than with her. But she continues smiling and cleaning and says that today is the last Wednesday for the free iced coffees and of course Bruce, being a valued customer, would have been able to take advantage of the offer had he only known. She makes her way back to the counter while Bruce and DKF continue to discuss the missed opportunities of four free coffees. This in turn, leads to a lengthy discussion about the state of the economy.

DKF says that he is trying to cut down on his driving but he will not compromise his comfort. He continues to use his air conditioning as necessary. Bruce comforts him by saying that in any sensible, economy car, the amount of gas used to power the A/C is minimal and that in this heat, you can’t NOT use your A/C. “The real problem is the SUV. Luckily, they are closing down production plants left and right,” Bruce tells us. “By this time next year, I bet you won’t hear of one company making the things.” Then he sits up a bit and says like he’s letting DKF in on some secret, “you know how we get these guys,” pausing for dramatic effect, “you stop buying. That’s why they are getting rid of SUVs. People aren’t buying them. That’s all we can do. We don’t have a say in government. They don’t listen to us. The only way to get them to listen is to stop buying.”

I have a feeling we are not just talking about car manufacturers any longer but he doesn’t really specify who the “they” and the “them” he is condemning are. DKF, who has been doing a lot of nodding says, “Starbuck’s is closing a bunch of stores now too.” As Bruce finishes a sip of his free iced coffee (that he has since asked for), he says in loud hush, like a kid trying to whisper, “yeah, well, serves them right. They expanded too quickly. People just have to stop buying.” How’s the venti iced latte treating you, Bruce? He continues, “I mean the answer is simple. We have to say (he flicks his hand from under his chin in a fangul gesture), we’re not buying. Simple.” Simple. Call Bernanke. Bruce Starbuck’s has the answer to all our economic woes.

DKF continues to nod in agreement and eggs his buddy on with, “Let me ask you, you know those checks we got from the government? How much did you get?” Bruce corrects DKF by telling him it’s an economic stimulus check and he got $600. DKF says he got $398, pronouncing “three” as “tree.” DKF continues, “Tell me, how come you got 600 and I got 398? Because I’m married? How is that fair?” Bruce kind of ignores the question and goes on a tyrant about “economic stimulus, my a$$. Who is Bush trying to help out, me or the business man?” You know what Bruce did with his check? Why he put it right in the bank and hasn’t touched it. He’s not buying. “Give me a couple hundred buck to put food on my table, give me a break!” DKF says he put his money in his checking account but assured Bruce that he only buys what he needs. “I’m not out buying TVs or anything, but we need to eat.” Bruce continues to preach, “Yeah, you know, you gotta feed your family. But it’s these idiots who are going out and buying the latest gadgets. The answer is easy. Just don’t buy.” He gives us a quick lesson in supply and demand.

The sports page of the paper is on the table between them. Bruce picks it up and tosses it back on the table, “You want to cut these guys’ salaries, don’t go to the damn games!” A-Rod, whose photo is on the front page, stares back at them while they discuss how much he takes home. Bruce says, “Now, a guy like Bill Gates, he invested and made his money. But we’re just giving it to these guys (sports players)! Don’t buy the tickets!” He gets a little quieter now. I think he’s just recharging. “But you know…we all have to refuse to buy.” He reminds us that it’s the same with movie stars. Bruce doesn’t go to the movies. DKF confesses he went to see “The X-Files” but only because it was so hot, he needed to be in air-conditioning. Bruce seems a little disappointed and DKF jokes that he is a generous guy. Bruce defends himself by saying he is not cheap, he just has principles. “It’s just ridiculous. I’m supporting these guys and getting nothing back? Well, I’m not going to support them.” Amen.

So, maybe this is a good room to write. It certainly allows for some quality people watching. And, considering I am in the parking lot of a strip mall, it does seem to have a “neighborhood” feel to it. One women, who looked familiar but I couldn’t quite place, was chatting with a couple of the baristas telling one, “hey, you must be doing alright and staying out of trouble. I haven’t seen you’re name in the paper in a while.” He smiled sheepishly saying he’s been doing “real good.” She left with a “keep up the good work! See you all tomorrow. It wasn’t until another regular walked in, who also looked very familiar to me, that I realized both he and the women used to go to my gym down the road. As I was getting ready to leave, another couple of men overheard Bruce and DKF talking. Bruce was talking about the fresh mussels and clams he gets from a local grocery store and how he prepares them. The other two (one in a button down shirt and tie, the other in dirty jeans and t-shirt), wanted to know if they were fresh and they talked recipes for a while. Bruce had to cut the conversation short but not before they all agreed they’d be back next Wednesday.

Maybe all I really need is a room with a quirky coffee crowd.

An Ode to Junk

We've been closely watching the news on the bombs in India. As far as we know, everyone we know in Bangalore is safe and sound but some of the areas where the bombs went off were well traveled areas by Sir, Ma'am and our old friend Chandan. It's a bit surprising (in a good way) that not more people were killed or injured considering the normal chaos of the streets. It's not surprising (in a bad way) that they didn't catch the bombs before they exploded. While almost every place had "metal detectors" and people checking bags, it would be an exaggeration to say they were lazy searchers. Occasionally, when going to the Leela for the Thursday OWC coffees, they would check under the car with a mirror for bombs but I'm pretty sure, had I really wanted, I could've slipped one by the guards. It always made me feel more comfortable knowing that they weren't all that concerned. Growing up without ever having a key to our house, I adopted a suburban attitude toward crime in Bangalore. Nothing bad happens in this mellow, increasingly cosmopolitan Southern Indian city. We were too far South to be effected by any tension with Pakistan and Hindus and Muslims mingled as if they they were cousins, not enemies. But I guess you can never be too safe. No matter where you live.

Best just to live in the moment. That's what all the latest self-help books are preaching these days anyway, right? Isn't that what the late Randy Pausch (of "last lecture" fame) was trying so desperately to get us all to realize? The Power of Now has reached all star status with the Oprah crowd and has been on the bestseller list for months. I haven't actually read it, but I think I get the gist. Don't get bogged down in the coulda, shoulda, wouldas and stop thinking about what's going to happen tomorrow, in a month or in the next five years.

But if I'm going to start living in the "now," does that mean I have to get rid of all that is from "then"? Can I live in "the moment" despite the fact that I am surrounded by things outside of the moment? I suppose it's always good to consolidate but this is where I struggle and will argue that the cards are stacked against me. It's in my genes. I'm a saver.

We had an exciting weekend what with the film crew that descended upon our modest raised ranch. My brother and his friends decided that my parent's house/neighborhood was the perfect setting for their comedy "Sweatpants" about some loser (probably in his early 30s), who still lives at home with his parents (HUGE loser!), and bums around with another guy who fancies himself as quite The Man. Oh, the hijinks they get into...in one scene, they were looking to set up a tag sale. My father goes into the garage and 15 minutes later has a couple of tables displaying the following: a typewriter circa 1965, lawn darts circa 1973, a wax dwarf/gnome/elf, roller blades (only one pair as the second pair literally disintegrated in his hands), some bowls, an old bike, rusty golf clubs and plastic track ball handles (shaped like jai alai rackets). If they had asked, I'm sure he could've come up with another table full of classics. And boy, didn't he feel like a superstar when he finally got to explain to my mother that all this stuff is really useful. There is a reason we save: you never know. We might need to come up with an impromptu movie set again someday. Or I might get the urge to file paper through an old school typewriter and see my words immediately in ink. But probably not. Then again, you never know.

So if he is saving all this stuff, how do I ever stand a chance of living minimally, parting with items that I no longer use regularly? On the other hand, what difference does it make? I don't think a cluttered garage prohibits active living. Sure it may make things messy and it may not serve an immediate use, but it doesn't diminish the "power of now" unless you let it. All that stuff does not bury me, keeping me from being, as Oprah says, truly present. Maybe living in the moment is so simple that there's no need to really think about it. I am living. I am writing. I am enjoying writing in this moment. Simple. And if a bomb goes off or there is a home invasion, perhaps all my stuff with insulate me from real harm. Perhaps the perpetrators will be so grossed out by things disintegrating in their hands that they will run the opposite way. Perhaps the wax dwarf/gnome/elf will be the only casualty of a tragic bomb explosion.

There was an article in The New York Times about the death of the cassette tape. I missed the funeral. I know they are not coming back, but still I will keep them. You never know.

Here's to Your Health

By noon today I had learned three new things:
1. Instead of using shaving cream to shave your legs, use your hair conditioner. It leaves legs soft and smooth and costs less (provided you don't use those fancy salon brands).
2. Keep cheese wrapped in aluminum foil instead of plastic. It keeps longer.
3. The new buzzword(s) in education is "21st century skills."

I had an interview today for a teaching position in Redding, CT. While I was waiting, the secretary was sharing all sorts of tidbits. All I remember was the shaving cream and cheese.

Anyway, after some chit chat about Bangalore, the Principal of the school started with "21st century skills: what does that mean to you?" I started going on about video games, over-medicated kids and pets and Obama as the Anti-Christ and finished with how it doesn't matter because the Mayans say the world is going to end in four years anyway. Education is all about the buzzwords: differentiated instructed, student-centered learning, age appropriate, higher order thinking, phantom tracking, collaborative learning, teaching to the test. Oh yes, my friends, we covered them all. How could they NOT hire me?

But really, the education of our nation's children should not be top priority for the Oprah set today. We have much bigger things to worry about like our granite counter tops. They could be emitting toxic radon gas. Most granite has some level of uranium which apparently is the lead culprit. Of course, the likelihood is probably pretty small but more and more people have been calling the EPA with high reading in recent months so we better make it a lead story in the newspapers.

If it's not the radon that kills you, it could be your jalapeño peppers. The tomato has been vindicated, at long last. Mexico, however, is still in the line of fire. You can enjoy your salsa, just make sure it's sans the hot stuff.

Whatever you do, do NOT pick up that cell phone to call your friends and warn them. Dr. Ronald B. Herberman, the director of the University of Pittsburgh Cancer Institute, warns that while the exact relationship between cell phones and cancer isn't entirely clear, there is a link and we should heed caution.

But don't go thinking you can just throw the phone away and head for the beach. While your SPF 50+ may be preventing skin cancer, some of the chemicals in the gooey white stuff might be harming your insides. Again, the risk is unclear but take comfort in the fact that "they" don't really know either way.

You could try to drink plenty of water to cleanse your system but don't bother tipping your glass if you are simply trying to remain hydrated and regular. That whole, eight glasses a day, for better health and optimum hydration is hogwash. Any sort of liquid or even watery fruit will do the trick.

Better to use water to "cleanse your system" then the trendy colonic. There is no evidence that your colon is "dirty" and that the procedure does you any good.

If you want to feel good about yourself, just go for the botox. All the popular brides and bridesmaids are doing it. Now in addition to the traditional mani, pedi and hair appointments, bridezilla and co. are opting for the full spa treatment. Botox is no longer for the Centrum Silver crowd I guess.

Here's to your health.

Writer's Block

It's gotten me. Writer's block. Maybe it's because I am trying too hard to figure out when the most important day of my life was (I'm entering a Real Simple essay contest. The topic is the most important day of your life.); or maybe it's because I am trying too hard to figure out what I really want to do with my life; or maybe it's because there is nothing all that interesting happening.

Obama went to Iraq. Says everyone is on board for a 2010 pull out. It’s July 2008. The election isn’t until November and after that, who knows. I don’t see this as worthy of much more speculation. McCain, in Kennebunkport visiting G.H.W. Bush, seemingly wanted some of the spotlight and started talking about the war too. Doesn’t sound like he said much more than the 2010 may or may not be a good target and how an awkward Obama is fumbling his way across the Middle East in the delicate dance of foreign policy. Yawn.

We went to see The Dark Knight last night. If there is a recession going on, you wouldn't know it going to a Monday night movie. The theater was packed with teens and tweens, couples, and even families all consuming industrial sized snacks. It's a good thing there is stadium seating with oversized chairs. But I suppose they are trying to save us money where they can. "I'll have a medium popcorn."
"For 75 cents more, you can have a large."
"Oh, so that's how it works. I pay more and then I get more? That's like, genius."
There were only about 3 cell phones that I heard go off - though, they had the volume so high, I'm sure there were others I missed. And there was only one screaming child. Who brings a two year old to a scary, long movie at 7:30 PM? But the interruptions did not take away from the movie. Not even the clapping and cheering at the end. Why the clapping? The actors, directors and producers can't hear them. I'm not one for comic books but I recommend. Two thumbs up. Eerie, action packed, and very good.

Marion Jones is seeking a Presidential pardon for lying to Federal Prosecutors and some check fraud scam. She asking for a commutation which is a reduction or elimination of her sentence. Is it wrong to say she seems sorry so why not? I don't know much about the check fraud but shouldn't she at least be given some consolation for finally coming clean and telling the truth? Isn't giving up all those medals, after dedicating your life to earning them, punishment enough? And especially when I'm sure she's not the first to have lied about using performance-enhancing drugs, doesn't it send a better message to say, "see kids, telling the truth ultimately is the best thing to do in any situation, under any circumstances? But what do I know.

Oh, and how about Radovan Karadzic...the former Bosnian Serb President who has been running around as a free man pretending he was not responsible for the massacre of thousands of men, women and children during the Bosnian war. Imagine all those people who have had meaningless exchanges with the heavily bearded old guy never knowing he is a monster war criminal. I can't decided if just disguising yourself in a country where you are one of the most wanted is brilliant or just really dumb. Obviously, it had been working for him for quite some time but didn't he realize it was just a matter of time?

These hazy, lazy days of summer haven't left me with much else.

Still accepting ideas for new blog title...

Wanted: Funny President

It seems, if there were a job description for the office of the Presidency, it might look something like this:

Position: Leader of the Free World
Industry: Politics
Salary: Approx. $400,000 (plus expense accounts)
Benefits: Private jet, body guards for you and family, house staff, and an all expense paid, big, white house, interns
Job Duration: 4 years (with the possibility of an additional 4 years provided you come across as likable and funny).
Job Location: Washington, D.C. (or where ever you may have a second ranch or home)
Job Requirements: Serve as Chief Executive of the United States. Must have excellent knowledge of political, economic, social and foreign affairs. Candidate must have sense of humor, be trustworthy and honest. Candidate must have excellent oral and written communication skills. Must have sense of humor. Candidate must be detail oriented, have a sense of humor and be able to multi-task. Candidate must be smart and funny.
Preferred Qualifications: Good looking, white males preferred. A passion for the United States a plus. Married Protestants between the ages of 45-65 ideal. Spouses should also have sense of humor.

Do you see where I am going with all this? Was the cartoon printed on The New Yorker out of line or do we all (read: the Obama's) just need to relax and accept that it was a satirical cartoon? Editor, David Remnick, defended the drawing saying the point of satire is to mocking something to show just how absurd it really is. Was depicting the Obama's as Muslim-loving, Americabashing, terrorists truly offensive or are we just over sensitive about coming off as racist? Showing a "what they said" type of solidarity, the good ol' white boys in McCain's camp "completely" agreed with Obama's campaign that the cartoon was "tasteless." Would we be laughing if it showed Hilary Clinton dressed in a mini skirt courting Prime Minister Olmert? Or might she and her campaign find that sexist? But no matter. The recent brouhaha over the questionably distasteful cartoon only seems to have fueled the fire that we have a candidate who is making it difficult for the writers of Saturday Night Live, Comedy Central, and late night talk shows. Why are we so upset we can't make fun of Obama?

I get that it would make him seem more "like us" and not so perfect. I get that he wouldn't seem so stiff and "other worldly." Maybe he does need to lighten up more. In world where we are still fighting tribal wars, drug wars, gang wars, wars on poverty, wars on terrorism, wars on obesity, we need a little funny. We need alot of funny. But we live in an increasingly global world, where people take religion and patriotism very seriously and, we live in a country where Jim Crow scars are still visible. Maybe we need to really think about how we define racism, sarcasm and comedy. But can we really fault Obama for having "nothing buffoonish about him," as Mike Barry, a former joke writer for Johnny Carson, so eloquently pointed out? Is this what we are now looking for in a President? Someone we can make fun of? After eight years of laughing at our leadership, haven't we had enough?

Maureen Dowd's column yesterday ended with, "if Obama gets elected and there is nothing funny about him, it won’t be the economy that’s depressed. It will be the rest of us." I'd like to think that I can lay off the Prozac even if the leader of my country is not joking his way out of an affair with an intern or to get the troops out of Iraq. Don't get me wrong; I like funny. I embrace funny. I think funny can go a long way in healing much that is broken. But funny doesn't make my car go, funny doesn't patch holes in the ozone and funny isn't part of my PPO health plan. So while yes, it would be nice to see Obama make a wry quip or sassy joke every now and again, and maybe, just maybe, fake a laugh when people try to mock him, come November 4, funny will not win my vote.

We're being duped.

All of us - you, me, Fido - everyday. The good news is, we can try to fight it. The bad news is, it is not an easy battle.

I read two articles yesterday that were equally disturbing and yet somewhat reassuring. What was disturbing is that to some degree, we are all being played like Pinocchio by Geppetto. What was reassuring is that in some cases, maybe that's not so bad.

It's advertisers, or rather, the advertising industry. The first article in The New York Times, was about an anthropologist, Dr. Curtis, who had done work in Africa and began a campaign to get villagers to wash their hands to help save them from preventable deaths caused by common germs. What was interesting was her approach. She went to the three of the largest consumer corporations and asked for their help in changing the habits of millions of Africans the way they have done for millions of Americans. "Through experiments and observation, social scientists like Dr. Berning have learned that there is power in tying certain behaviors to habitual cues through relentless advertising." Did you remember to brush and floss with Crest this morning? Advertisers insist this is not some twisted form of manipulation but rather improving the quality of life, as Dr. Curtis is trying to do so in Africa. I agree with all of this. I don't want to see the dentist anymore than I have to. The article also points out that changing peoples' behaviors is not an easy task and cites examples about anti-drug and safe-sex campaigns that had the opposite effect. But unlike Dr. Curtis whose altruistic endeavor is to be commended, I'm not sure large advertising corporations are necessarily looking out for our best interests, especially if that might conflict with revenue.

The more you sell, the more money you make. So I buy my body enhancing shampoo and conditioner but then have to buy a styling gel or mousse to prevent it from becoming too frizzy or full. I have to buy my facial moisturizer to keep those nasty wrinkles at bay but then have to be sure to get the cleanser for oily skin to be sure my moisturizer hasn't clogged my pours. I have to wear mascara to stay pretty but need an eye make-up remover to get rid of it because, I think I read somewhere, very bad things will happen if I actually sleep with my mascara still on. I have to buy soap scum remover and mildew remover and rubber gloves to keep my hands from getting too dry, unless I want to buy the most expensive, ultra moisturizer hand lotion.

Companies are spending inordinate amounts of time and money working with researchers in studying how we think and behave. The articles uses the example of Febreeze. The original concept for selling the air-freshener was to rid clothes of smells associated with a long night out in a smokey bar. But it wasn't selling. People forgot it under there sinks or in their closets and bad sales threatened to destroy the product. But, “We learned from consumer interviews that there was an opportunity to cue the clean smell of Febreze to a clean room,” Dr. Berning said (a Proctor and Gamble psychologist). “We positioned it as the finishing touch to a mundane chore. It’s the icing that shows you did a good job.” Isn't too much icing making us fat?

So I finished the article feeling manipulated, thinking about all the things I buy that I really don't need or simply use because they are convenient. Then I thought about 5 young African children not dying from diarrhea because they were manipulated into a hand washing habit and realized that sometime the icing is just to good to resist.

But then I was disturbed again by the headline: "Pill-popping Pets."

Talk about the power of advertising. Now when you stop at the local CVS to pick up your Prozac, you can pick up a bottle for your yellow lab, Fido, too (or Mittens the kitten). The article was in this weekend's New York Times Magazine and made a case for schizophrenic cats and obsessive compulsive dogs and claims that "An estimated 14 percent or more of American dogs have separation anxiety." One couple sought treatment for their dog, Rocco, who they locked in a cage while they were at work so he wouldn't run wild. After he destroyed pillows and the cage, they locked him in the bathroom where he destroyed the shower curtain and ate shampoo. They tried to confine him with a baby gate and he tore up the rug. So, they took him to the doctor who diagnosed him with separation anxiety and wrote him a prescription. And wouldn't you know it, haven't had a problem since. I'm no vet, but this sounds less like separation anxiety and more like, "why-the-hell-do-you-keep-locking-me-up-from-8AM-to-6PM? I-have-to-pee" anxiety.

The article paints both the positives - Mittens no longer tears up the couch! - and the negatives - now she is just lethargic and mopey. Some vets realize that medication simply provides a quick and easy solution for owners while others insist that these pets have deep-rooted and real genetic disorders that require medication. Some vets are against medication and insist there is not pet mental health crisis, while others feel we are lucky that in this day and age we can finally help pets who decades earlier might have been put to sleep.

Perhaps this will lead to great insights about how human and animal minds are related and we'll finally see a cure for Alzheimer's and bipolar disorder. But, ok, I will play the cynic; I don't think so. This is all just more about advertisers and drug companies pulling our puppet strings. You can have the white picket fence with two well-behaved children playing Nintendo with Lassie calmly watching beside them; just keep hiding the Ritalin in the PB & J's and dog chow. You don't have time for obedience school. You have to get to the store and buy things you didn't even realize you needed. Make your life easier, just give Mittens a pill. After a long commute that burned all your hard earned cash in fuel, you don't want to come home to torn pillows and couches, just give Lassie a pill. Pills save lives. They don't need fresh air and home grown fruits and veggies. Those don't cost anything. I'm sure Pfizer's not complaining. After all, the correction printed at the bottom of the article clearly states: "The cover article...misstates the revenues Pfizer Animal Health has earned from animal medications. The total for this division, which includes livestock, is $2.6 billion, not “nearly $1 billion.” Its “companion animals,” or pet division, contributed nearly $1 billion to this total." One billion. I wonder what their shrinks are taking home.