You Might Feel Dirty Reading this Post

According to this post at Dakota Women, on September 11, if you were in the Fargo vicinity, you could have been enlightened. You cave-dwellers.

Don't know much about sex or how to "protect yourself" against pregnancy? Afraid to talk about it?

You know you are.
Nobody talks about sex.
Why, it's downright taboo.
I feel dirty typing the word.

LET’S TALK: ABOUT SEX!

Sex is a taboo subject especially for young people.

Fear and shame keep young people in the dark about protecting themselves from pregnancy and sexually transmitted disease.

It is time to get real, LET’S TALK: About Sex!

The fear and shame our generation learned from Friends, Dawson's Creek, Sex and the City, and the American Pie trilogy have been dispelled.

We owe a debt of gratitude to The Committee on Health Care Accountability and Planned Parenthood MN, ND, SD, which have exposed our culture for what it really is: prudish.

"Why Don't You Upgrade from the Blogger Template?"

One of my friends asked me this last night on the phone.

Sitting in front of my computer I had called her on a whim, just to talk. Which I don't do much. But she's been helping me with some tricky HTML (wondering about that rotating slideshow on the right?) and it was on my mind.

Not many readers, I said. I'd like to get readership up.

That's when she asked me the question in question.

The short answer is, I don't want to. I liked this template the first time I saw it: Clean lines, clever color combinations, simple, attractive and retro. There are limits to what can be done with this template without making it look ridiculous and these limitations intrigue me.

My work life is about making everybody else's stuff look better. It is about defying limitations, breaking outside the box, thinking two steps ahead of the competition, selling.

I am tired. My eyes are sore. If my brain could wince, it would.

Let everyone else update, revamp, improve, evolve. It's fun to watch. But I do enough of that professionally. I'll stick with my blogger blog, which not many read.

Of course, when I get that sidebar looking the way I want, look out.

Food on the Brain

September 24, 2007
Scene 1:

I am sitting in my kitchen reading a book on Navy submarines to my 4 year old. We come to a two page spread with a cross section of a submarine.

Me: W! Look, you can see the engine room! [Pointing.] What do you think that is?

W: It's a propeller!

Me: Yes. And here is the torpedo room and the place where the sailors sleep.

[Short pause while W scans the page.]

W: Mom. Where is the kitchen?

Scene 2:

I am helping W get dressed. I pull on a new long sleeved, mocha colored shirt that looks too big to me.

Me: W, this shirt looks a little big. Are you sure you want to wear it?

W: Yes.

Me: What about your camo shirt? Why don't you wear that instead?

W: No.

Me: Are you sure? You really don't want to wear your camo shirt?

W: No, Mom. I like this shirt because it looks like chocolate ice cream.

In case you were wondering . . .

. . . if it was possible to dice apples with one hand for your sour cream coffee cake, while holding a fussy, teething 9 month old in the other hand . . . it is. It's not easy, but it can be done.

Jesus Is Tricky

A (Four year old theologian): Jesus is always with us. He's here with us right now. (Pause) But I can't see him!?
Elphaba: That's right! Jesus is with us all the time even though we can't see Him, but we know He's there because of all the love that He has for us and because He cares about all the things we are doing.
A: Jesus is tricky. When I die and go to heaven I'm going to tell Him, "You're tricky, Jesus."

Wanted: Kind Strangers

I know others have written about the phenomenon known as craigslist. I was a craiglist virgin until yesterday. I put a post up yesterday morning and was amazed by the response. As the post explains I am going to be traveling with almost four year old daugther and sweet and creamy three month old son (pictured above). We are staying at my parent's home in MN which is modestly equipped for grandchildren. Our stay there would be oh so more relaxing with few baby accoutrements. Almost within minutes someone had emailed me offering the use of an item and throughout the day I had a couple of more women offer their things. Last night someone even called my home and told me about a clothing closet in Minneapolis that was run by a church and gives clothing and baby items away to people who need them. Another woman had nine kids and was going to just give me her infant bathtub - she said she never used it. If I had nine kids I would probably just line them up, squirt some shower gel on them and apply liberal amounts of hose water. I digress. Rest easy girlfriday readers. Sweet and creamy will be living large at grammy's house because of the kindness of strangers. (Just in case my mom reads this, be it said that she always asks if I need anything and trys her darnedest to gather things.)

University of Florida Student Tasered

I don't agree with one thing this UF student said in his diatribe to Sen. John Kerry, but he had a right to say it without being arrested for it. If you haven't seen this, go to the Gainesville Sun website and check out the story and the video.

It is creepy to me how quickly the police started moving back and forth behind him, when he started to make controversial statements. As once commenter on the Gainesville Sun's website noted, when did we become a society in which politicians are so coddled and protected that the people who elected them can't question them without being brutalized by the police. Since when are we not allowed to ask controversial questions that they don't want to answer??

Also, listen in the background of the video, right about the time the student is being tasered, for John Kerry to comment sarcastically that it's too bad the kid can't get up and help get him elected President. It is a weird, "shew"-brow-mopping moment in which you breathe a sigh of real relief that he was not elected President for Pete's sake!

girlfriday adds: That link is no longer valid. Click here to watch the incident and read more.

Happy birthday, friend.

How topical for us.

:-) turns 25.

Ca C'est La Plus Belle Site A La Internet

Yeah, I did that without a dictionary.

My new favorite site on the Internet: Browings real estate listings in La France!

Oh, mon petit chou chou! Puis-je acheter un maison la bas?!

Wow, it's been a long time. I might have just cursed you in French.

Out of left field

I find myself wondering if tex and/or friday have any edits to their previous lists of Hollywood men. Or if jeb and elphaba want to throw their hats in the ring (this is where a smiley face would go were I allowed to use one).

girlfriday: it turns out both ends of the lollipop are fuzzy*

Ms. Lane has a heartbreaking post about the death of her Inbox. An Inbox that didn't die alone but took the Sent Folder with it. The. Sent. Folder. I'm developing hives.

But don't try cheering up your bosses with, "Hey, it could be worse. You coulda lost all your email" when it's you who is hanging out to dry.

Among the many thankless duties I perform as an assistant, IT manager is one of them. It just worked out that way. I know more than everyone else so I am in charge of IT. That was fine with me, and I grew with the job.

I can't say it was a mistake, but I should have known that when things went sideways, I'd be the scapegoat.

The story: There is a lot of spam. You might have noticed. I heard about the volume of spam from one of my bosses. A lot. After some consulting with the web administer at the company hosting our email, I decided to make the switch to Google.

Google Apps. It's a beautiful thing.

But it's not perfect. And neither am I. We own a dozens of domain names and a number of them are aliases for our primary domain (lost you?). I mistakenly transferred the primary domain first rather than the alias which we use for ALL of our email.

Bottom line: For 24 hours, clients got reject notices whenever they tried to email us.

That was the bad news. The good news was no more spam. None. Those blasted spammers were foiled by the powerful filters the geniuses at Google designed.

It's been a dark few days as I've tried to troubleshoot these and other issues. I can't count the number of thank-yous I've gotten for trying to solve the spam problem, or trying to find an innovative solution to email hosting. That's because I didn't get any.

It's bleak here in IT admin land.

But Lois knows that it's not always better on the other side.

*Remember when Sugar says she's always getting the "fuzzy end of the lollipop" in Some Like it Hot?

Six Years Later

Today was 9/11, and I didn't post about it but not because I don't care. What can I say that has not already been said?

I could say that I was living five miles from the Pentagon when that second plane struck. But millions of other people were too.

Work was at a standstill, I could write. So was everyone's work.

My understanding of and confidence in American security was changed. So was everyone's. We thought our misgivings would last.

They didn't.

It wasn't the event in my life; the time and place where everything is turned upside down and waking, breathing, eating, and trying not to dream become the answer to "what I did today."

I had survived and so had everyone I knew. My changes were just a nip here, a tuck there. Everything limped back to the way it should be. People had died but they were not my people. Terrorists were real, but they would never find me. Economies were shaken, but they would be restored.

My confidence in America faltered but did not ultimately fail.

What can I say about 9/11? Forgive me, you who still grieve. I have forgotten you.

I won't forget your enemy.

It's ON!

As you East Coasters already know, Fred Dalton Thompson officially entered the Presidential race tonight on "Jay Leno." Go to http://www.fred08.com/ and become a "Friend of Fred" today!

To Girl Friday, Big Love and the "Wives"

I was thinking of you all two nights ago when I found myself, suddenly and blissfully (you know I love those boys, but every once in awhile it is heaven to just sit and "be") alone. W was with my parents, J was asleep and K was with some of you, drafting his fantasy football team. I put on some Willie, took myself outside, looked up at the clear night sky and all the stars, and with the little Texas dog lying at my feet, smoked a cigarette. My fridge was sadly devoid of a Shiner or I'd have had one of those and toasted you.

Oh, for Pete's sake!

I have been busy today and tuned to CNN this evening to catch up on the national news...or their version of it...when Anderson Cooper began talking about how Senator Craig may - or may not - resign, depending on how the attempt to reopen his case in Minnesota goes. According to press accounts, the slippery wording in his statement on Saturday, that he "intends to resign on September 30" is nothing more than that...an intention, subject to re-evaluation and reconsideration. What this sort of parsing reminds me of, more than anything, is the ruminations of former President Clinton on the nature of the word "is," and what it might mean at a particular moment in time.

This is sad, pathetic, and unconscionable behavior, not worthy of a politician of his tenure. While I have no doubt that he regrets his decision not to fight the charges in the first place, the fact remains that he did not. And the reason he did not is that he feared the reaction which ultimately came to pass.

Is it reasonable that police spend their time sitting on toilets, trying to catch toe-tappers in public restrooms? Who knows? But I certainly would not want to find myself in a restroom where public sexual relations are occurring, and I absolutely would not want to subject children to behavior of that sort. And I could not care less whether the sex in question is homosexual, heterosexual, or has to do with plants, gourds, or watermelons. It is simply not appropriate behavior in a public setting.

Well. More than anything, it brings to mind the joke about how politicians are like diapers. They both need to be changed a lot, and for the same reason.

I sincerely doubt that the case will be reopened. Craig is a lawyer, and if I can read the statement he signed and understand that he absolutely forfeited his right to reconsideration or reversal, he clearly ought to understand the English employed by that document. There just isn't any wiggle room. And the thing is, the only thing that fighting that fight will accomplish is keeping the scandal on the media radar for the next couple of months. He cannot unring this bell, whether the case is overturned or no. His political career is over.

I believe that Senator Craig should gather the remains of his dignity and resign. Without equivocation. Immediately.

I Want to Live in a Chocolate City

It didn't make sense when my mom asked the four year-old me what I was thinking about. It doesn't make sense now. That's the point.

There is a long string of things I'd like to blog about, but I can't seem to gather them into a tidy mental place suitable for posting. Or they're lost as soon as they materialize. Or I tire at the thought of more time at the computer.

Stamps! Stamps! I collect stamps. Does anybody have any clever ideas for displaying them? Something artsy. Something I haven't thought of.

What about postcards? I have postcards from all over the world and I want them OUT, OUT where people can see them. How? Where? Will you do it for me?

Maps! I love maps, and I want them hung, framed, matted, displayed, laminated--SOMETHING. I hate having them gather dust.

How should I dry fresh Italian parsley? It grew like a champ this summer. My salads are Parsley With a Little Lettuce. We've had parsley on our ice cream. Our toilet paper is made of parsley. How do I preserve it for the winter?

We've been watching Doctor Who. Regularly. It's incredible. Do you watch it? Why don't I hear more about it?

A group of my husband's colleagues get together occasionally and choose a dinner theme. At my suggestion, we've selected French food.

Does anybody read this blog anymore? I can't imagine why not, when there are posts like these to amuse you.

I want to live in a chocolate city.