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All text and images copyright1999- 2003
emjaybee
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January 26 It's been a while since my last update, apologies. Despite my lovely new laptop, I haven't been particularly inspired to write. Partly it's the weather, which is hideous. Last winter was the kind of winter I like: snowy, cold but bearable. So far this winter has been the opposite; little snow, the occasional nasty ice storm, and face-peeling, brutal dry cold. Iron gray days that keep you indoors, turning your heater off and on to keep the temperature somewhere between Icebox and Inferno. Our heat comes from a radiator. But unlike the radiator at our last apartment, this one has an awe-inspiring repertoire of clanks, hisses, and tinks, as though it were inhabited by tiny tapdancing gnomes who also like to play games of horseshoes and run a Russian bath. I kind of like its old-fashioned charm, though central heat would give me back some crucial floor space that the radiator takes from my already-tiny apartment. Another reason for my failure to update has been my obsession with Democratic politics, which seem to have taken a Survivor-like turn with the Dean defeat and speech in Iowa. I still root for the guy, but the suspense over who will really get the nomination is ramped up pretty high now that he's suffered a setback. I've been reading the political blogs pretty steadily, and have occasionally seen some commentors express concern over the closeness and ferocity of the primary process. But I tend to think it's an asset instead. For one thing, it keeps the Dem candidates in the news. Dean's "yaaaargh!" beat out Bush's State of the Union (with its bizarre focus on steroids!) in the news. Kerry's surge has been all over the papers. When we had Al Gore as the anointed candidate last time, it was boring and no one paid attention. Now they are. Bush keeps having to come up with ever more weird ideas to get our attention (going to Mars, banning gay marriage) and it ain't working. And like I've said, I'm an "ABB" (Anybody But Bush). Whoever comes out of this process as the nominee will have been thoroughly tested and sharpened. Kind of like Sylvester Stallone in Rocky III when he had to go work out in a barn before he could beat the Soviet guy. I think we're in for an exciting primary and a no-hold-barred campaign. And I still think the Dems can win it. Anyhoo, that's been my life for the past few weeks. I've also been reading some terrifying books on biological warfare for my next book assignment. I've been having a hard time finding resources on chemical warfare, though; if any of you know of good books on the subject, drop me a line.. Oh, and I've got a new Crab Apple on being a tree-huggin', crazy-eyed liberal. Enjoy. Jan 2 Well I might as well be writing this as doing anything else. It's 5:30 am and I can't breathe. Mucus has taken over my head, and I'm pretty sure it's a sinus infection. It's been coming on for a month, but I kept ignoring it, figuring it would remain a mild irritation or go away. My pioneer ancestors wouldn't have succumbed--maybe I, too, could let my natural infection-fighing forces defeat it! But after two sleepless
nights, I have to admit--I'm no pioneer. Just a woman who can't sleep,
because when she lies down, her head fills with goo and her breathing
gets labored. No matter how many decongestants I take. Nasal spray does
nothing. The
neti pot doesn't make a dent. Mucus has declared war on me, and
the only way to defeat it is to call in sick and run to the doctor tomorrow,
so he can prescribe me the big guns--antibiotics. I read a lot about germs, because I find them interesting, and so I've also read a lot about how we overuse antibiotics in this country. So I'm reluctant to take them. What if I build up resistance each time until when I'm 60, some infection is too powerful for them and it's curtains for me? I mean, these are the kind of thoughts that you have at 5am. But I don't have a choice now---breathing is non-negotiable. What I really want is a tiny vaccum cleaner that I can shove up my sinuses and clean those suckers out. I hate the packed headachy feeling, the dripping, the congestion, but I also dislike using drugs and neti pots to fight it. Because they can't get at the stuff way back in your head. But a vacuum tube to clean it all out...now that would be satisfying. Gross but satisfying, like busting a pimple (oh stop going "ewww!", everybody does that and so do you). Vacuuming out your head is probably also medically dangerous, but like I said, these are the thoughts you have at 5am. Right now I'd shove that nozzle up there without a second thought, my friend. So while I'm up, I go online to re-discover my doctor's contact info, and then wander over to atrios and dailykos for the late-night heck of it. Lots of posts about Howard Dean and the upcoming election and the latest shenanigans from Dubya's Capitol Critters. I'm pretty much in the Dean camp, though I tell ya, I'd vote for any Democrat at this point. Except maybe Weepin' Joe Lieberman. I like Dean the more I read about him, even though his lack of neck occasionally bugs me. But then Dubya's got the little pursey-lips, so I think they're even on that score. For specifics of
Dean's stances, go to his site here.
But I'll tell you what I like about him in shorter terms:
I watched him speak last night at some rally in the midwest on C-Span. At first, he was awkward, as he can be sometimes (his Letterman appearance was not the best, I recall), but as he warmed up to his subject, he became more eloquent and forceful. Speechwise, he'll never be JFK, but that's alright. He's coherent, and takes his stands without equivocating, which puts him ahead of Dubya and about 90% of the folks in DC right there. I will tell you, this guy would shred Dubya in a debate. If he gets the nomination, I wonder if the Boy King would even debate him? There is no Constitutional law that says there must be debates, after all. But it sure would look bad for him to refuse. But if he does decide to debate, all Dean will have to do is figure out a way to throw him off his prepared remarks and get him to talk at length. Because as soon as Dubya begins talking at length extemporaneously, hilarity ensues. The guy is a fountain of spoonerisms, misstatements, grammatical errors, and stammers. If Gore had been just a tiny bit more aggressive, he could've wiped the floor with him, but alas. My Read/Delicious page has once again been extensively updated. I am finding an embarrasment of riches lately when it comes to blogs/websites/whatever, and I want to share the goodness with you. December 17 through January 2 A long, December-and-January entry, to make up for all the holiday time I had to take off. But first, a brief note. This is the first entry for my website written on my new laptop computer. I could have written it on the desktop machine a little easier, because it's already hooked up to our dialup line. But I had a very important reason for using this machine, and it's mainly because my husband, quite simply, kicks ASS. Do you want to know what he did? The little sneak. We had talked, and talked, and TALKED endlessly about how much I needed a laptop so that we could both have computer access. But the money, she was not there. I was pretty resigned to the sharing of computer minutes, the putting off of my writing projects for a few more months, when the money might--might--show up. And he pretended to go along with me, never letting on, though he was unusually secretive about my gift. Most years, he gives it to me as soon as he buys it. But I figured hey, he just wants to mess with me this year. Probably, he had just ordered me the books I wanted from Amazon and would bring them out of hiding Christmas morning. What he did instead, was call in all his Christmas favors. He enlisted pretty much his entire family to make my laptop, the one I have right now, our joint present. Even though really, it was just for me. He gave up his presents for me, ya'll. I'm still speechless. He asked everyone to donate to the laptop fund instead of buying him a gift. UPS didn't deliver it until Christmas Eve, and he got up early, wrapped it, and then gave it to me in front of the entire family. Made me cry, dammit. Little sneak. So here I sit, typing away like I knew what I was doing, like I get a laptop everyday. Like my husband didn't pull a "Gift of the Magi" and give himself 10 billion Husband Points that will probably never get used up. If you have a good husband/wife/life partner, good for you. But they will never kick more ass than my husband, I'm sorry. Not a chance. December 17 December 19 My cab driver was Haitian, and didn't say much until we were near the airport and a tire in the road nearly made us wreck. "I just start my shift and I already have bad luck! I should just go home now! You know, I can tell already it's going to be bad day, beauty, I should just go home. I can always tell when bad things going to happen--my wife and I fly back from Haiti, I say to her "I have a bad feeling!" And we get home and my son has broken his leg! Somehow, I know!" And I feel guilty, as though I had somehow brought this guy bad luck. Also annoyed because really, I just want to get to the airport. "I hope your son feels better soon," I said as we pulled up to the terminal. "God bless you beauty!" he says, so then, you know, how can I not like the guy? Too bad I only had 5.00 for a tip. You know what I say God bless to? E-tickets. Zip zip, check the bags, through security, collapse at the gate area with my NY Times, diet soda, and Atkins bars for breakfast. Mmm, caffeine and faux-chocolate. (later) As I flew, I thought about Matt roughing it on Day 2 of his Amtrak Adventure: the Trackening. No doubt he was stinky and sleep deprived already. He was alone because I am not the roughing it type. My ancestors worked long and hard to give me things like a/c, indoor plumbing, and travel that allows comfort and showers. Who am I to turn my back on all they have done? Instead, I choose to respect their achievements and sleep without rocks, dirt, bugs, or curious hungry bears disturbing my slumber. Um, not that there's bears on Amtrak, as far as I know. As an aside, if you have a stopover in Atlanta and you have only an hour to transfer to your next flight and not much money, I highly recommend skipping the dried-out Blimpy sandwiches and stopping at the Krystal's for some tiny greaseburgers. Fast, cheap, and pretty darn tasty. Confusion continues to reign on the second plane also. Now people are just saying "screw it" and negotiating with the rightful tenant of whatever seat they sat in. "Just keep mine, I'll sit here," they say, and swap out. There's a baby next to me who doesn't cry, thankfully, but has that weird crib-baldness where his baby hair has rubbed off on the back of his head, leaving a line of curls along the bottom and hair on top, but nothing in the middle. I think I would just shave it off if I was his mom. Another baby further up the aisle keeps crying and stopping. It has a weird cry, all phlemgy and scratchy and weak, so it sounds like a radio that keeps going staticky and then fading out. I fall asleep, wake up, and am relieved not to have drooled on myself. Here's Texas, just as brown and flat as I left it. Ah. Mom and Glenn picked me up and took me to the Trail Dust, where they will cut off your necktie if you dare to wear it inside. Is that down-home hospitality, or vaguely threatening redneck bullying? Glenn is tieless, so we don't get to find out. There's a huge slide in one corner, and the waitress tries to seat us near the bottom. No thanks, don't need someone's kid bumping into me while I try to eat. I took my first bite of grilled chicken, not expecting much. Grilled chicken in most restaurants generally has the approximate taste of seasoned wallboard. But...Oh man. It's SO DAMN GOOD. Moist, even. Thank you Texas. Still don't want to live here, but sure do like to eat here. December 20 Now preachers always use little stories to illustrate their points--some they make up, some they get from other preachers. or maybe Preacher's Anecdotal Monthly or something. The interesting bit was that *this* preacher used this story from the Internet--an email forward. Truly, it is the 21st century my friend my friend. Doing a little research, I find it is attributed to one Candy Chand (!), who has also written some inspirational books. I just include this info for accuracy, because once a story becomes an email forward, the author's name gets dropped and it becomes a story about " a woman I know" and I hate that. Speaking of accuracy, my mom told me that her preacher also related this tale a few weeks earlier. And sadly, here is a refutation of it from Snopes.com, because that's just the kind of geek I am. Anytime I get an email forward story that tells a pat message, I go look it up in Snopes. It's great to get your stories off the Internet and pass them along to your friends and all, but please people, Snopes them first. December 21-28 December 29 You know what? Shut up already. Your boringness is sucking the life out of the rest of us. Fall in love, get married, and have boring suburban babies if you must, but leave the rest of us out of it, ok? *** The day before I left, I went out to my brother's ranch outside of Carbon, Texas which is about as far from anywhere as anyone needs to be who's not actually a hermit. But he has a beautiful house, and it's big enough for our huge clan, so the trip is worth it. You have lots of time to look at the countryside during your drive out there, and it was prettier than I remembered. The hay had all been cut, and the short grass that covered the fields was a mellow golden buttery color. There were only a few trees in each field, and they had all lost their leaves and showed up inky dark against the gold. The sky was a pale high blue, and huge as I remembered it, with a few lines of fish-scale clouds scattered across it. There were lots of ponies, horses, and the occasional goat behind the barbed wire fences, eating and enjoying the winter sunshine. Very peaceful. On the way home just after sunset, the sky was that dark blue just this side of black, and a crescent moon hung high up. Venus (I think) had risen and shone by itself because the stars hadn't shown up yet. One of my earliest memories is riding in the back of my parents' car on the way to somewhere, staring at the sky and the constant swoop of telephone lines across it. It can still put me in a trance.
I had a really wonderful visit, though it's strange that Texas has become just another place to me. It was more like a vacation and less like a trip home than it's ever been, even though we were asked a lot if we were ever moving back. I don't think so; I mean, I know something might force us to, but short of that, we will probably end up somewhere else. Texas is a pretty place when it wants to be, and I like the big sky and the solitude, but it's just too far away from everything we're entangled with; our careers, our politics, our lifestyle. It's a good life for a lot of people, but it's not where we need to be. Another interesting thing about my visit was that my relationships to my family have changed a bit. Mostly due to my letting them know about this website, actually. (hey, how's it going guys?) Since I'm pretty upfront about my political views on my site, and they aren't the same as those of many in my family, I got asked a lot of questions. We're not a confrontational bunch, so a heated political discussion was kind of a novelty for me, but I think I held my own. And I learned a lot about what they thought, which I'm still mulling over. Actually, I've been trying to write a Crab Apple piece about my politics and how I came to them, but I've had trouble getting it all down into a coherent argument. Still working on that. But this week may have helped me clarify some things to myself. I think some similar sort of clarity happened for Matt, or at least for his friends and supporters. He did his first show over vacation, and it was a wholly different animal from anything he'd done before. Much more personal, and much more honest, and much more just plain weird, which is why I think it's the best thing he's done so far. Those in the audience who didn't know him may have been taken aback, but even those who did were surprised at what he came up with. Not that it's really that freaky a show, just not three or four guys with instruments jamming onstage. There were rough spots, but those can be fixed, and I think the basic show itself is just incredibly strong. Back in his old band days, I remember there always being a feeling that he wasn't at home onstage. Even though his band was good and the material melodic and everything, it never seemed to all come together somehow, never seemed to catch fire. I honestly don't know if this version of his music will catch fire with listeners either, but it has an energy and a personality that his earlier stuff didn't. That lets me know he's moving in the right direction, even though I have no idea where his sound will end up. It's an exciting process to watch. **** So now I find myself at an equally exciting and intimidating place; a place where there are no more excuses. I left Texas, got out of my crappy and soul-sucking jobs, and now I have a computer that is mine alone. There is no more reason not to write the books that have been on the back burner. Gulp. Actually, I'm not
all that scared. I've seen all the Law & Order reruns I need
to anyway. I'm ready for a more productive year. I'm ready for the next
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