The World is a Glass House

I struggle with many things. How to make sense of rejection. How to cook artichokes (which, by the way, don't bother. Just buy them cooked, cut and marinated in a jar). How to save the environment...but one thing that has been particularly troublesome this week is how not to feed into the media frenzy that follows people in the public eye.

I admit it. I sometimes pick the longest grocery line so I can flip through the latest Enquirer, US Weekly or Star magazines to find out if Kirstie Alley really has gained back all the weight JC (Jenny Craig, not The JC) helped her lose and if Brad and Angie really are going to make it. I don't actually go out and buy these magazines but if they happen to be right there in front of me (or in the mailbox with my roommate's name on it), I don't not look. Sometimes, when you see Britney all disheveled with sad eyes or Amy Winehouse hacking butts as she leaves the hospital where she's been told she has early signs of emphysema, I can't help but feel a little guilty. But then again, I don't really feel bad about it usually because, after all, it's part of the business. They dove into the fishbowl. But Hollywood and the celebrities who define it also seem like they are of their own world.

In our world, we have lots of people who live in the public eye but now thanks to instant communication with phones that take photos, cameras that shoot video, videos that can be viewed by millions worldwide on the internet, it seems even those in the periphery of the public eye are subject to Hollywood type scandals and publicity.

I found myself watching a surveillance camera at a local restaurant and bar here in Milford yesterdat afternoon. It wasn't until after three minutes, that I woke up and thought, "what am I doing?"

What I was doing was watching some gritty video from the ceiling corner at a restaurant? I was trying to figure out why exactly the Milford Police Commissioner was asked to resign earlier this week. The story reported by the paper said that witnesses saw the Commish enjoying a little too many martinis, to the point where he got sick on his pant leg. He was also spotted canoodling with a young woman and had to be driven home by an officer who happened to be at the restaurant (instead of one of the 8,000 local Dunkin' Donuts). The Police Chief asked the officer who drove him (the Commish) home to submit a memo explaining what happened. In the memo, the officer says the Commish was "visibly intoxicated." The day the story broke, the Mayor (who is supposedly pretty tight with the defendant) asked for a resignation basically saying it makes Milford look bad. The Commish shot back saying he wouldn't resign because he did nothing wrong. He was out to eat and got sick on the clam sauce (gets you every time) and was kindly given a ride home. "I had the misfortune of getting sick in a public place, and that's it. I did not do anything illegal. I didn't do anything even unethical." Cut to the tape.

The tape shows a whole lot of nothing. It does show him with his arm around a women and stumbling. Still, he submitted his resignation yesterday and everyone in Milford can now take a collective sigh of relief. Should we tar and feather a man who was out and had one too many? Should we accept immature behavior and bad judgment from a civic leader? He also runs Milford's Boys and Girls village for disadvantaged and troubled youths and is a Baptist Reverend, though these details have just been tagged onto the end. I get that he is an elected official and representative of Milford, but really, the allegations seem more silly than truly scandalous. Should he be embarrassed? Absolutely. Should he think twice the next time he orders one more round of drinks? Sure. But I feel bad for him. I feel bad that I actually watched this tape that shows him stumbling down a hall. I feel bad that I have to form an opinion about what happened during the 12 minutes when he and his companion were off camera. (He says, he was waiting for her outside the bathroom. And says that she was a staffer working on a friend's campaign.) I feel bad that I didn't even know who he was or what exactly he has done for the Police Department to know whether or not he deserves to get canned over all this. And I feel bad for his family. But I guess that's what you get when you make a poor decision and you an upstanding member of "a small city with a big heart." (Really, this is the motto of our fair city.)

We all make dumb mistakes. Just ask Don Imus. I do believe he was being sarcastic with his, "there you go. Now we know," comment but he has to know that there are a whole mess of people out there who think he's a racist. Anything he says or does not say about race is going to be scrutinized and dissected and analyzed like a cadaver at a crime scene. Watch what you say and do Mr. Imus, the world is listening (even if we're not really listening to his show).

Politicians have been screwing around, drinking, lying and who knows what else since the beginning of time. Has our moral compass really shifted that dramatically or do we just feel entitled to tear people apart just because we now can watch as their private lives unravel, literally, before our eyes? JFK did who knows what with Marilyn and yet we know how much Monica Lewinsky paid for her dry cleaning. The world is a glass house. There is no more fishbowl. Log onto You Tube and you can watch what your neighbors are doing. Send a text message (with photo!) when you see the mayor at the grocery store buying condoms. Next time you go stumbling around a restaurant, watch where the cameras are mounted and avoid them. You never know who is watching or where you'll see your mug. And watch out for the stones.

When One Door Closes?

Monsoons in Myanmar, earthquakes in China, typhoons in the Philippines, floods in Iowa, the salmon population dying off in the Pacific Northwest. And perfectly adequate teachers not being rehired in districts where they previously did good work for 2 years...something is up. It's a good thing I have nothing but time now to figure out just exactly what is going on.

Although actually, I may only have four years. The Ancient Mayans believed the world is going to collapse in 2012. And so do quite a few others with websites named, "13 Moon," "Circles of Light," and "Great Dreams." Oh, and my mother who is quick to point out that Obama is not the anti-Christ because he is black, as I quipped in a previous entry, but because of the Mayans (you do the math). The former would just be crazy, racist talk, the later is obviously edjukated, rational talk. (I suppose this makes the now fashionable Michelle the Eva Braun-like victim?) But before you go thinking we're all fist-pumping our way to hell, most people believe that 2012 simply marks the end of one cycle of a longer Mayan calender.

According to the Mayans, there are apparently 5 different cycles civilization will go through before any sort of apocalypse, each cycle lasting 5,126 years (depending on whether you believe exodus2006.com or churchofcriticalthinking.org). The specific date where the current calendar "ends" is 12/21/12. Some believe there is something to the ones and twos in the date but others are quick to point out that the Gregorian calendar we use was not calculated in the same way the Mayans used way back before JC. October is really supposed to be the eighth month, November the ninth and December the tenth. The 12/21/12 date has more to do with the winter soltice and the special alignment of stars that will occur on that day than any eerie math calculation/conincidenc.

Still, like those kooky Y2K believers, there are those who are stocking their shelves and emptying their 401K accounts, claiming that the previous 5,126 day cycles all ended in disaster (so-called apocalypses) - once a flood, one by fire and in the first cycle, a Jaguar came and ate everyone on earth. (Of course, somewhere else I read that we've only gone through 2 cycles...) Others say that most of the ancient Mayan texts were destroyed by the Spanish and we really don't know what the Mayans knew or didn't know about 2012, except that we all, one way or another will self-destruct because of something about the sun aligning with the Milky Way galaxy and a Snicker bar getting lodged in between them.

As for me, I'm not ready to stop worrying about retirement. I may not have a job (or job prospect) at the moment, but I do think Mother Earth will be here well past 2012. I take the view that something may very well happen on 12/21/12 but not in a cataclysmic sort of way. Maybe it'll just be the shift we need to make sense of all the things that seem a bit too odd at the moment whether about the weather, gas prices, Presidential hopefuls or the well qualified but unemployed. Maybe it'll be like someone shutting the door on 5,126 years of conflict and opening the door to 5,126 years of peace? Or maybe we're all doomed. Either way, I'm not giving up on the world today.

Kids are Fun

I've been babysitting. Monday and Tuesday I only had to cover half days and only had one angel. Monday when Jimmy got off the bus, I was a bit surprised when the door opened and the first kid to the door was not Jimmy but some other boy who stood there and yelled, "can Jimmy come over and play?" I told him maybe when his mom got home. In repeating the story to my sister, she said that was Ryan and he asks the same question everyday, much to the amusement of the bus driver. So Tuesday, the door opened and I saw the bus driver chuckling first before Ryan yelled, "can Jimmy come over and play this summer?" This is funny because it happens the same way every day but also because Jimmy just kind of walks by him and doesn't say anything. Not, "yeah, I want to go." Or, "no, I don't want to go." Or, "bye." Or, "call me later." He just walks off and heads home. And Ryan doesn't seem to mind.

Yesterday and today, I had a full day with both Jimmy and Carolyn (5) since summer has officially started for them. I know Bill Cosby's done the whole "kids say the darnest things" bit but they really are funny people. They are at that age when:

• They know what constitutes "breakfast food" and are quick to point out things like, "we can't have chicken nuggets for breakfast!" Which really only means, they'll just wait until 10 AM before asking for chicken nuggets claiming it is "lunch."
• The way you make Kraft Macaroni and Cheese is totally different from the way they "usually" have it and couldn't possibly eat it your way. "It tastes different." They did however enjoy my chocolate chip pancakes because apparently I put way more chocolate chips in than mommy.
• The pool is never too cold, even if their lips are purple and they are blinking icicles off their eyelashes.
• Bathroom talk is hysterical.
• Knock, knock jokes are too.
• The rules for any game are impossibly complicated and change very quickly depending on who is winning. At one point we had to run to different bases with our fingers crossed and only facing one way and had to try to make each other say, "what," while dodging a ball thrown by the person who was "it." Then the rule changed for "just the big kids" (Jimmy and I) and we could only stay on base for 30 seconds and the new forbidden word became "yeah."
• Running around chasing someone never gets old, even if there are no rules.
• You can never eat too many Popsicles.
• They say thinks like, "of course I know how to go to Google. What do you think I am, stupid?" And when you reply, "it's not nice to say 'stupid,'" they say, "then how come you just said it?"
• Riding your bike three houses away to the end of the street is a long way. Too long to go without a helmet. And to think I rode for 18 years without one.
• Finding an inch worm is the "coolest" thing to happen during the day. And losing it (or crushing it in one's fist, a la Lenny and the rabbits) is the biggest disappointment of the day.
• They ask questions like, "who invented skydiving?"
• They'll tell you Scooby Doo is for kids and they prefer the pre-teen shows like, iCarly. I have yet to actually see an iCarly episode but you know it's a turning point when they are watching shows with real actors instead of cartoons.
• They get a tad annoyed when they draw you a picture and you can't identify exactly what is happening in it. Better just to give vague compliments and wait for their explanation.
• They still will get cuddly with you when you least expect it.

So I've been busy reconnecting with my inner child which has been good. It's kept my mind off of things like job-hunting and our ant problem. I know ants are not household pets but I still can't help but feel a little bad when I see them all bustling about outside the little Hotel of Death, knowing that they are just feeding off the poison of one another, marching to their deaths. Somehow vacuuming them up, as I did the other day, seems more humane - like a roller coaster ride to a better place. What will the children say about all this?

Traffic, Weather and 24 Hour News

Last week was so hot they canceled school. This week it's so cold, I'm wearing a fleece. And man, you should've seen the storm that came through last night. The thunder shook the house and we're pretty sure the lightening must have clipped a cat or squirrel. Why the power even went out. But today the sun is out and it's going to dry everything up.

I can't stop talking about the weather. This could mean one of two things: 1. I haven't had much chance to obsess about the weather since Bangalore is a pretty consistent 75-80 degrees and sunny. Or, 2. I'm spending too much time with one of my roommates. Next thing you know, it'll be the traffic.

George and I have discussed and we're pretty sure that obsessing about the weather is an affliction that strikes somewhere between ages 50-60 and is more prominent in women. Is it the hot flashes or just our "fragile" nature? I thought it was just my mother, who inherited the gene from her mother and has, I fear, passed it on to me. But George insists his mother is the same way. It's either too hot or too cold or so windy you better stay inside...and on that rare, beautiful day, you just have to keep repeating what a gorgeous day as if you might forget (which could also be due to the menopause). There is not a dark cloud that passes without a comment about a possible impending storm and not a day that goes by without asking, "what's the temperature?" My 94 year old grandmother explains, "we don't have much going on but there is always the weather to discuss." Point taken. So by this logic, I have as much going on as a 94 year old. I think I would be ok knowing that it's just the quintessential topic of conversation but I fear that in my case, it's something more than a universal conversation starter. My mother not only likes up to the minute reports on the weather here in the 06460 but she likes to keep tabs on what's happening from Miami to Fargo to Tokyo to New Delhi. So, I think the only thing that distinguishes my obsession with the weather and the OWW (Obsessed With Weather) disease that strikes females later in life is that the OWW is usually accompanied by OWT (Obsessed With Traffic). Thankfully, I show no symptoms of OWT, yet.

What's funny about my mother is that neither the weather nor the traffic have much impact on her day to day life. It doesn't really matter if it is 104 in Jakarta and 40 in Juneau or if there is an accident on the Merritt Parkway. But still, these details can provide us with endless hours of conversation (and I don't think hours is an exaggeration). Don't even bother heading to the Interstate 95 - there might be traffic. If there isn't, you should start worrying about the traffic that you might hit. In the good old days, we could consult one of our favorite stations, Channel 12 News, Traffic and Weather but since my frugal father, switched cable companies, Channel 12 became a casualty. The horror. Now we have to rely on the signs posted by the on-ramps to the highway that usually read, "ccident Exits 4-54. Expec elays." We can expect delays but that doesn't stop us from complaining. "Aw, geez. I tell you, it's always something. You can't go anywhere anymore. Too many people on the roads. If only they'd stop working on the roads." I think menopause makes you cranky too. If only we had Channel 12. (Forget The Weather Channel that's like turning on MTV expecting to see music videos.)

But what's worse, no Channel 12 or no MSNBC. We sure do miss that too. We get about 700 channels but still, it's not enough. We need the People magazine of news programs! (I'm not sure why CNN won't do but I think it's the same reason why one should only drink Diet Coke out of a can.) knows what we missed in regards to Tim Russert coverage. Probably the interview of his best friend from grammar school's second cousin.

I suppose if worse comes to worse, we can always go hang out at the gas station. Driving by our local Shell station the other day, I heard what sounded like a TV blaring. (I had plenty of time to further investigate seeing as the Shell station is at the corner that just all backed up now that they've suddenly stopped working on the underpass adjacent to the corner. "Why have they just stopped worked? They had two different contractors. Why would they do that? Now, that corner backs way up." Traffic, traffic everywhere...) More importantly, I think, is that in an era when you can get up-to-the-minute news at any hour of the day, on our TVs, computers, phones, PDAs and now even, at the gas station. What's next? TV's in public bathrooms? Would it be so bad if I didn't find out until Saturday morning that Tim Russert died? Wouldn't that give people more time to react and prepare for the onslaught of The Media? Is there such a thing as too much news? I think maybe. Of all of the 8 zillion news outlets, why wasn't there one, any one, small mention of Flag Day?

Tiger Woods is unreal. It's about time the Celtics get a title. Tim Russert will be missed. And all father's should be honored. But in this time of war, as it still is (Obama hasn't won yet), doesn't the flag deserve a shout out? After all, it's not just a piece of fabric. God bless the USA.

The World is Upside Down

Since when does school get canceled in the beginning of June? Isn't that like seeing the Easter Bunny come down the chimney in December? But I suppose, in case you hadn't heard, it was the record-breaking heat. Is it because their poor, young minds couldn't possibly function or because of the potential law suits when little Johnny came home and said his hand melted into his pencil because his mean, awful teacher still made him try to learn? Either way, it seems to me we've gone soft America. There are little children in New Delhi sweltering in 120 degree heat but still, they go to school. They may have to sit in a classroom and share desks or books, but they don't just cancel school because of the weather (Ganesh's birthday? Obviously. But that's different, isn't it?). But there is a race taking place here, besides the US Presidential race, and we may end up like Hillary. How can we expect tomorrow's global leaders to be successful when we let them take the day off to play in their pools because it is a beautiful day? We may have better computers and more supplies but what good is it if all we are using the computer for is to play games and download music? I mean honestly. Do you think my 5 and 7 year old niece and nephew get this? No. As we sat and sang Carolyn's catchy, new, made up tune, "It's a Brand New Day to Play" (whose lyrics consisted of repeating that phrase), there was not one mention of school or homework or the state of the economy. We'll see what the brand new day brings when someone's got to work in a sweatshop making toys for little Chinese and Indian children.

Perhaps I should've made my stance on serious education for children clearer in my interview or I wouldn't be here still waiting for an answer, getting closer to "no thanks" with every minute that passes. Are you out there and listening, school district that will hire me?

Maybe it's that we bypassed winter this year because it did feel hot, but not "the world is on fire hot" like the local news tries to claim. And this is coming from someone who is currently living in the equivalent of a brick oven. "Why would we open any windows when it might rain...someday," says the woman lying in bed with a cloth to wipe her sweat. But I guess we needed a good headline, until we can really figure out what's going on with Tomato Turmoil 2008. (Gas prices are getting a little old now.) Didn't I come half-way around the world to get away from random food parasites and potentially fatal diseases? The other question this recall raises is how am I supposed to know where the tomatoes I bought at Stop and Shop are from? And isn't that a little frightening that we don't even know where our food comes from? Maybe I should add "organic farmer" to my list of potential future jobs. Either that or I can practice using just the right touch of outrage and concern about the weather, the state of education, or contaminated tomatoes, and try my luck at being the local anchorwoman.

X-treme America

So some have asked if I am looking for a job now. While I would like to say that my daddy surprised me with a trust fund and I can continue to be a lady of leisure, I'm afraid that the party is over. It's back to the old 9 to 5er (or the 6:30 to 8:30er)...in September. At least, I hope. The problem is, there aren't alot of openings for high school Social Studies teachers and those places that are hiring, even if you've had TWO years of experience there, are under new administration and not making this an easy process. Keep your fingers crossed.

But as a fighter and half glass full kind of gal, I'm looking at the positives, like breaking into a new career. When I am not blogging or at the grocery store, I am brainstorming new careers. This is the list so far:

• Arby's manager - they are currently hiring at up to 10 dollars an hour. The signs they have on the side of the road are designed to trick some people into thinking jobs start at $10/hour. Those that aren't tricked get the manager positions. I think that's how it works anyway.
• Bollywood dance/pressure cooker instructor - with my teaching degree, years of dance experience from grades 1-8, and recent trip to India, I think I can charge at least $15/hour.
• Personal trainer - we joined a gym here. As part of the membership, I got one free session with a trainer. His name was Damian and he thinks that just about everything from squats to me living with my parents is "pretty cool." Aside from his refreshingly enthusiastic take on life and fitness, he did seem to know what he was talking about but I'm pretty sure, after reading 3 to 4 fitness magazines, I could do what he does.
• Personal organizer - As long as I don't have to organize my own stuff, I think it's fairly easy to advise others on how to do so. For starters, I will tell you, the less stuff you have, the easier it is to organize. I think the next logical argument is that the more organized you are, the more efficient you can be. At life. After all, isn't that what it's all about. "Here lies Jane Doe leaving this world having been a model of efficiency."
  

I'm only half kidding. Maybe you read that article in Time magazine about this guy, Dave Bruno, who is on a mission to pare all of his belongings down to just 100 items. He has created a "cult following" of believers in eliminating all the excess. How you count your "items" is up for discussion but the point is, the less you have, the more simple your life becomes because you are only concentrating on what really matters. Coming back to this country from a third world country where people thrive on much less, I am still trying to adjust to all the excess here so I like Dave's sentiment. I know there are lots of things I could stand to part with and find my world has not fallen apart. I also totally understand that much of what we think we cannot live without really has more to do with our psychological and emotional attachment to our things. I know that I know that the wall hanging from India will not bring me back there nor add or take away from my experience there. But it reminds me of a good place and time and is that so bad? I'm sure Dave would tell me that I can remember that place and time without anything physical which is true but also brings me to the real point of all this.

I think the larger problem here is a problem with extremism which, I think, is a uniquely American issue - though I'm willing to be proven wrong on this. I think there is a tendency in the US to take ideas and practices to the extreme. Whether it is about diet and exercise or personal organization. People hear a good thing and take it to the extreme. Instead of eliminating all white foods or all cooked foods or collecting massive piles of junk or eliminating all your junk, why not try living somewhere in the middle. What happened to the age old rule of "everything in moderation?"

George says it's all just people being disciplined. I suppose it is to some degree but living in moderation is being disciplined too. Dave Bruno is at the point where he says he's not sure he can get down to 100 things. He's made his point and people are listening so why continue if it's at the point where you might actually regret getting rid of something else? I think it's great to have goals and to push yourself but it just seems that in some cases, we are setting the goal so high or low that we are doing more harm than good and losing the original point. And I'm really not just talking about personal choices and goals. As a society, I think we are prone to extremism. Why, if one reality show works, do we have to recreate it in ten slightly different ways? (The same can be said about game shows.) Why do we insist on putting green tea and ginseng in everything? Is my skin really going to notice when I rub lotion that claims to have ginseng in it? And if everything contains "zero trans fats," why bother flaunting it? (I think some clever junk food marketer must have come up with the whole idea of "trans fats.") We are over and/or under-saturating ourselves with fads and trends and "the latest" to exhaustion.

Or maybe I'm just old. The young hipsters seem to be drawn to anything billed as "extreme" whether it be a sport, a drink or a video game. Maybe I should rework my resume to say I am an "x-treme" employee and come up with impressive stats about how all my students got A's because I taught so well and they all got every word I said. (Or maybe it's that no one got above a C because I taught so well and held them to high standards?) Or maybe I just scrap the whole teaching thing and come up with the latest fad and market it until I have a book, a TV show, a food line, a clothing line and other miscellaneous merchandise to remind you how my fad is the best.

The Interesting People of Milford, CT

Well, Obama did it. And thanks to a loyal reader, who never recognized the source of his information, I now am crystal clear on the process. God Bless America. (Or as my mother likes to say, "I just hope he's not the Anti-Christ." A well-liked black man must be the devil in disguise.)
I'll have to ask her why she hasn't considered Oprah to be the Anti-Christ. This will make for a fun conversation.

We've been having alot of QT lately, my mother and I. A couple of weeks ago, I had the pleasure of taking her to the eye doctor. Her appointment was early but still the waiting room was packed. We ended up waiting there for quite sometime but I didn't mind. It gave me the opportunity to really get to know those in my new community. There was the older couple next to me who came shuffling in, she on a walker and he either trying to hold her up or using her to hold himself up. They sat next to me and I think thought they were whispering, the way they leaned into one another when they spoke, but I'm pretty sure I could've heard them had I walked across the room and stepped outside. They were mostly talking about how many people were in the waiting room and how long they would have to wait and the weather. Your standard elderly chatter...until the old lady pointed to the TV and said "what's she doing?" It was Hillary Clinton on CNN giving a speech. Her husband explained that she was running for President. "They should just shoot her," was the feeble, old lady's response. Her husband chuckled and said that there were lots of people who would agree but "look at all those bodyguards. No one who wants to shoot her could ever get close enough. She has people around her 24 hours a day. You're not going to get your wish." The women seemed to consider all this very seriously before dismissing the whole TV with a wave of her hand and an over-exaggerated, disgusted look.

I kept busy by eavesdropping on that conversation and another between two relatively younger women (considering the median age was probably 65). The one woman who did all the talking works in the Milford Public School system - presumably as a teacher. She kept using lots of "buzz" words like, "well, he really was having trouble with impulse control." She was telling some story either about a student or who own child (I think it was about her own child) who "took years to get a diagnosis. But we went to a slew of different doctors before we found some researchers at Yale who diagnosed him with bipolar." But having done her research on medicated children, do you know what has worked wonders? Fish oil. "Do you take it? You really should." She then went on a 5 minute diatribe about the hidden wonders of Fish oil and how best to take it. She likes the pills. She can mix it in with Johnny's yogurt and he doesn't even know he's taking it. I think you can do that with Ritalin too but I wasn't about become part of her one-sided conversation. Besides, I think she already was on to my eavesdropping. I couldn't help it. My back was facing her and after she somehow segued from fish oil and bipolar disorder ("It's not a disease.") to her skin cancer to sexual harassment, I was dying to see what she looked liked. She was your average, middle-aged suburban women, with a short blondish-white bob. I didn't get a great look because then I would've been the sloppy looking eavesdropping starer.

But she went on to tell a story about how she was on a committee that was hiring presumably another teacher and someone who was one of the leaders of the committee made some inappropriate joke. She lowered her tone for this conversation but managed to say something to the effect of, "any behavior which makes you feel uncomfortable because of your gender is so clearly harassment that it was just insulting to me that no one said anything." She went on to say that even though the comment or joke was not about her, she felt violated. But apparently she didn't want to make waves with the man who made the comment but she is just sick over what to do. "Well, you know, I am very shy." It was about this point that I was called to retrieve my mother but I'm sure had a sat long enough she could've told me the most recent Oprah book to read or how to cook artichokes.

After reviving myself at the Stop & Shop gas station the other day, I headed to the Stop & Shop to get some things for me and my three house-mates. Feeling quite pleased with myself for having remembered my eco-friendly reusable bags, I also took some small comfort from know that those bags would save me 5 cents inside. And just like they say, "don't go to the grocery store on an empty stomach," I would also advise people to stop at the gas station first too. You're likely to be a bit more frugal. (Imagine the elation when they told me I got 5 cents back for each of my three reusable bags.) So with a keen eye for the sale items, I surpassed the expensive asparagus, which I know to make and found myself in front of the artichokes. They were on sale. I like artichokes, I thought to myself. I think George likes them and my parents don't really like all that fresh, healthy food anyway (they prefer meals that are made from a box, a can or come in take out containers). So, I decided I would buy them. How hard can it be to cook an artichoke?
What I didn't realize until I came home and looked on the internet is that what I really wanted was baby artichoke hearts. What I have are two very large flower things that even after they are cooked, apparently have a tough skin you don't eat. I think you have to suck the good part out of each of the petals. I should've just bought the more expensive asparagus. So much for being frugal. In retrospect, having never bought an artichoke, I don't even know if the sale price was that much of a bargain but maybe my parents are on to something: stick to foods that come in boxes, cans and jars. Of course, they will also tell you a well stocked cupboard should have no less than 6 jars of mayonnaise, 8 rolls of paper towels, cream cheese frosting and enough packets of random marinades to last through the next millennium.

Has Obama Won?

And who exactly are the "super-delegates"? Do they only come out to play in real times of crisis (a woman or a black man for President)? Do they at least get to wear a costume? I'd go to a political convention if the entertainment included something along the lines of Wonder Woman vs. Superdelegate.

After a quick read on Wikipedia, I can tell you that the term "superdelegate" is an informal term and I think used mostly (or totally made up) by the media. This is about as far as I got with a clear answer on Wikipedia. Sure, there was a page of words but in the end amounted to not much more than "vote for Presidential candidates...blahblahblah." So I moved to howstuffworks.com. I got a little more information there but realized that we, as Americans, like to complicate things. It's in our genes. Lest you think I am not a proud American, I will say I do believe the complications are an effort to make things more fair. Democracy is the government for the people and by the people, I get all that. I understand where are Forefathers were going with the electoral college but in 2008, the year of campaign overload, this complicated (but fair?) system seems to be more like a load of shananagans. They can vote for whoever they please regardless of which candidate won the popular vote of the state - which is where I think they get their super powers. "So if one Democratic candidate wins 60 percent of the popular vote in a state that offers 10 delegates, for example, that candidate will win six delegates in that state." The other four become the "superdelegates" I suppose, and can vote for Obama.

Why has there been no mention of superdelegates on the Republican side? Is it because they had one clear winner long ago or because they don't believe in superheroes (I mean superdelegates)? Good questions. When a Republicans primary candidate wins a state, the winner gets all of the delegates. See, the fairness gets lost in the simplicity.

The superdelegates are said to be high ranking members of Congress or the Party, former Presidents and Vice Presidents. But no one can seem to explain exactly how they are chosen. If I am a delegate of Connecticut, who decides if I get the Super "D" cape and tights? You can find a list of all the superdelegates online but I still can't find a straight answer as to how they became superdelegates. Are these people chosen by an independent group or has Bill gone and used his super ex-President powers to win friends? But even if you do understand the system (and I'm really not sure there is anyone), doesn't it seem like it must be at least somewhat corrupt? But maybe this is what politics has really always been about and it's just that now it's in your face 24 hours a day.

Or maybe it is a good system and I'm just the uninformed village idiot. But it certainly isn't clear. The papers seem to be "unofficially" declaring Obama the winner, talking about how he IS the Democratic candidate, but in the article next to it, they are writing that Hilary is still trying to influence the 200 uncommitted delegates. If Obama needs 47 more and there are still 200 undecided, does this mean Hilary really still has a shot? Time magazine is running an article about how well she may or may not readjust to Congress now that she has failed in her bid for the ticket. If it's over, will someone please just call it? Because I'm still holding out hope for Hilary and I'm starting to feel foolish. What's that they say about The Audacity of Hope?

I'm not sure if it's this frustration with understanding US politics or maybe just the anxiety of spending $70 for a tank of gas with no job, that has me missing India. I think it was about a month into our stay in Bangalore that we really started to miss the US and now I'm feeling the same way about India. Maybe it was spending the morning out on the golf course yesterday or assuming that the pasta dish I ordered on Saturday night did not have chicken in it (really, no where in the description did it mention chicken but what American doesn't like chicken?). The weather is finally comparable to India (though still a little more chilly) but even sitting outside, enjoying the sunshine and looking up at the sky, all the green makes this place seem so different from India. Obviously, there is much more than that but at the most basic level (aside from what's actually in the streets and how people operate), what strikes me about being home is all the green and lack of brown/dirt. And it's not that I miss the dirt but there is something comforting about the chaos and all the people out in the streets, just living. I know it seems crazy to miss that but today, I do. But at least we did get a picture of Chandan (before our final departure) to help remember the good times when were Ma'am and Sir.