Christmas Day

We drove to New Smyrna and cleaned garbage from the beach.

USA Today

Good article...

Sunny Times

We're under a tornado watch. This kind of weather always freaks me out.

Yesterday, the weather was beautiful. It was the kind of weather that inspires sonnets; standing in the sun's rays, it felt like a cozy blanket, balmy and cool in the shade. Gentle breezes...I wanted to roll up my sleeves and attack the weeds that have crowded out nearly every flower in my garden. But, there were other tasks on yesterday's agenda.

I finished packing the gifts for Steve's family. We had little luck finding bio-degradable packing peanuts. Steve is the smart one - he finally checked online. Who'd a thunk it, but U-Haul sells them??!! There's a U-Haul around the corner, so that was easy enough. Got everything secured and tapped. FedEx 2-day ground, $35! Woo-hoo! I really thought it was going to be at least double.

Then, I drove to Mon Delice to buy two boxes of pastries for Steve's office. I always buy a variety, but it turns out that Steve's colleagues were partial to the eclairs and ignored everything else. That is a bummer. Not only was it a waste of money, but it was a waste of a special treat. Also, Steve thought I bought too many. He only wanted them for his group of 10. Okay, I'll remember that for next time. The good news is that Mon Delice probably has about nine new customers - like they need more business.

When I was in Mon Delice yesterday, hoping to avoid running into Pam, I tried to keep a low profile. She saw me. It was actually really nice to talk to her again, but I hate seeing people who I worked with at Disney. 

Working at Disney was not the same for me as it was for my friends. I hated it, and I felt trapped. I liked the idea of performing, but I'm not a performer, and there is not an extroverted bone in my body. Seeing old friends reminds me of a starkly sad time in my life. Retelling old stories reveals a glaringly spiteful and shallow person, and I am shamed. I don't laugh at the stories, I cringe. There is nothing about that time of my life that I want to relive.

I am finally comfortable with who I am, in fact I really like who I am now. If I was the person I am now, then, I would have quit working at Disney after my first summer. More than likely, I would have quit after the first week. I didn't connect with anyone there. I was quiet, studious and reserved, but friendly. Those qualities don't cut the mustard at Disney. I adapted to my environment in the ugliest possible way. I abandoned who I was, and who I wanted to be in favor of acting like an asswipe.

I acquired my Disney family being someone I'm not. I would never be friends with those people today. My decision to retreat from all things Disney has caused some hurt feelings. No one will believe me when I explain that they wouldn't have fun with me now. By their standards, I honestly believe that they would regard me as a fuddy-duddy and ask repeatedly, "What happened to Katie? She is SO boring!" I don't think I'm boring, I'm simply theorizing about their reaction to seeing me again.

Pam told me that an old friend - Jeff - has been frantically looking for me. I was surprised, but told her that I thought that Jeff and I should leave things as they are. I told her that all I ever wanted for Jeff was for him to be happy. I hope he's happy. She answered by sharing that he is "still high maintenance." Her words. Bingo. High maintenance. He sucked the life out of me.

Okey-dokey! There's dirty clothes to wash, a door to paint and dishes to clean. I'm off! 

Weekend wrap up

We visited another farmer's market last Saturday. This time, in Sanford. It is a wee little market, with only a few vendors, but it is a REAL farmer's market. Everything is actually LOCAL! Finally! We bought eggs, tomatoes and a couple of cucumbers. Next time, we're going to buy a loaf of bread and maybe some cheese.

My lemon tree is loaded. Last year, I gave a couple of bags to Steve's mom, but there were so many, I couldn't use them all. I refuse to let these beautiful lemons go to waste this year. I am lucky enough to live where citrus grows, and even luckier to have a lemon tree in my yard. I am going to honor this tree by using all of the lemons.

Last night, I made lemon bars. Steve and I ate a couple; the rest, I packed and sent to Steve's office with him this morning. Last Friday, I baked chocolate chunk cookies. Because I couldn't find the semisweet chocolate I like, based on a recommendation, I used bittersweet chocolate. Steve told me that everyone at his office was complimentary, but I prefer semisweet.

This is my cat, Hilda. It's a miracle this picture turned out; she is the squirmiest thing ever! She kept sniffing the lens and batting at the lanyard. As soon as I took this picture, she took another swat at the lanyard. 

Brighter Day!

Brighter Day!

Brighter Planet will offset a free day’s worth of carbon emissions in your name — all they ask is that you make an effort to conserve energy this holiday season. Please click on the words Brighter Day (highlighted above) to make it happen! Woo-hoo!!!!

Evolution

I met my friend Barbara at Starbucks Monday morning. She and I only get together a couple of times a year. I absolutely adore her, and wish we saw each other more. In fact, she is one of the people I most admire, and whose opinion most matters to me. It is because I admire her so much that it pains me to admit that I basically drove her away. She only gets together with me for the sake of old times. I am embarrassed by that truth, but I am also grateful for her company and wisdom.

I have known Barb since I was about 15 years old. She was my brother's friend. I liked her immediately, and was surprised that someone so cool would be friends with an asshole like my brother. We were always friendly, but I figured that she was nice to me because she's a nice person, and that was about it.

Fast forward fifteen years, and she and my brother are dating. I thought from the start that no good would come of the relationship. I warned her to end it before she got hurt. I would have loved to be related to her by marriage, but predictably, my brother screwed her over. She was devastated, and I always admired her so deeply that I indulged her desire to rant and vent. Anything to be friends with her - even if it meant enabling an unhealthy fixation on my brother.

A friendship - of sorts - was born.

For many years, I obsessed about my own fixation; my identity was that of a hurt and angry person, and all I talked about was how badly my family mistreated me. I was traumatized by family's choices where I was concerned, and I didn't even know it. It is so easy to reflect and ask, "How did I not see?" But, I didn't. I had no idea that that single obsession was driving everyone from me. 

I have learned, and I continue to heal and evolve. 

What do I do now? Everyone got sick of listening to the broken record that was me. Most of those people, I'll never get back. They closed the door, and put about 20 padlocks on it. I get it. I would have done the same. Who wants to be around a crazy, angry, vengeful nutcase? It is exhausting to be around people like that.

When Barb and I were at Starbucks Monday, it seemed like she could tell that things were different with me. She even suggested that we get together after the holidays. I want to believe that it is more than another pity get together. I'm going to go regardless.

In traffic

I was stuck behind this person yesterday. 

I agree with their message, but I think less of them for posting it all over the ass of their car.

"Week in Review"

On Tuesday of last week, my friend Linda told me that she was coming over to visit for a couple of days after Thanksgiving. I spent the next couple of days frantically cleaning my filthy home. She ended up not coming over. Unfortunately, the threat of company is the only thing that motivates me to clean my house, so I'm not even marginally upset that she changed her plans. Living in a clean home has been wonderful.

Linda & Bill, and Steve & I went to the Gaylord Palms for Thanksgiving dinner. It was okay. We had fun because the four of us always have a good time together, but as far as the restaurant goes, I wouldn't do it again. The restaurant's greed got the best of them; it wasn't enough to charge $42 per person, but they also stuffed every spare area with extra tables and chairs. The dining room was so cramped that it was difficult to get up from our seats. 

We spent Friday lazying around. 

We saw Four Christmases on Saturday. You'd think that for a splashy production with all kinds of big stars, they'd spring for a decent wig for Reese. Near the end of the movie, the tired wig they popped on Reese's head was a distraction. The movie didn't make any sense. Reese and Vince start out happily together, not married, but also feeling no obligation to define their relationship. They spend the movie trotting to the homes of their divorced parents (hence the name). The time spent with their parents sucked, and that somehow inpired a change of heart in Reese. By the time they pulled up to her father's home (the last stop on the Odyssey), Reese wants a relationship talk; wants to know where things are going. What???!!!!  There were a few laughs, but overall the movie failed. Meh.

We got up for the farmer's market on Sunday. I wanted to buy some eggs, but I got things confused. The local chicken farm doesn't sell eggs at this farmer's market. 

The Orlando Farmer's Market is more of a craft fair. There is only ONE veggie vendor. Wha?! One? Huh? I do not get all of the incense and candle vendors. Who is buying all of that incense?

We took a nice stroll around the lake. Because of the cold temperatures, the Cypress Trees are losing their needles. They remind me of fall foliage.

I've lived in Orlando all my life, and I've driven past Brian's countless times, and never stopped. I've read glowing reviews of Brian's places like here and here and here. Finally, I ate there.

The restaurant was dirty. The service was unfriendly. The food was disgustingly greasy/stale/burned. It was just gross. 

The sweet bun basket was a combo of sweet rolls and a powdered sugar coated fritter. The fritter tasted like fish sticks. The sweet roll was just okay. 

Bottom line: Avoid!

No, I don't want a "Fresh" strawberry or blueberry short stack. I don't care to have "Today's Special" either.

Tradition

Big Pine Key, November 2007

When I was growing up, holidays were a nightmare for me. 

I was an outsider in my family. For 363 days of the year, no one seemed to notice or care. But on Thanksgiving and Christmas, my mother demanded that our family present themselves as a cohesive, loving group. Even though we were anything but, she wanted people to think that we were a family worthy of tribute in a Norman Rockwell painting. What this all really meant was that I had to pretend to fit in, or I would be in big trouble. 

I was a crappy actress. I know this because even though I tried as hard as I could to behave as though it was normal for my family relate to me in a tender, loving way, I was punished. It sucked.

I am thankful that those years are behind me. I am thankful that Steve and I have developed our own traditions.

With the exception of this year, we typically vacation in the Keys over Thanksgiving. We take advantage of the four-day weekend; spending lazy days kayaking, hiking, biking, sleeping, browsing through shops and eating great food. It is unquestionably awesome. If we ever have children, we will continue to spend Thanksgiving in the Keys.

Christmas is quieter. Every other year, we visit his parents in South Carolina (although, one of their gifts from us this year is a webcam, so we may never go up there again). The year we stay home, we catch a movie at the Village and have lunch at Wolfgang Puck. That is also total awesomeness. The village is decorated beautifully, Christmas music is on the sound system and we're completely happy for it to be just the two of us (among the other thousand people with the same idea).

When we get home, we watch Christmas movies. For supper, we devour the Wolfgang Puck takeout we ordered specifically to eat at home.

I love our traditions.

I was about ten years old when I asked, "Mom? Do you believe in soul mates?" After she answered, "I think that you can love just about anyone if you really put your mind to it." I sat quiet. I didn't know what to say. It was clear that she did not think my father her soul mate, and worse, that she didn't believe in soul mates. 

I wanted her to believe so that I could believe.

Now that I am old(er), I understand what my mom was saying. I think.

About twelve years ago, I met Leif. After several months of knowing him, I came to believe that he was "the one". We weren't a couple long enough for us to transition beyond the you-are-awesome-I-am-awesome-lovey-dovey stage 1. Then, he went into the Peace Corps (be still my Liberal heart). 

At the time, I felt so grown-up about my unapologetically pragmatic attitude toward his leaving. I said so-long to Leif and wished him well in his work. Though, for many years after he left, I dreamt of his farm-boy smile and crystal blue eyes. My heart was broken, and I was not moving on.

I didn't know what to do.

Eventually, I began to date. No one compared to Leif. I was not optimistic that anyone ever would.

Then I met Steve.

At once, I was flushed and silly, and I knew that he was my second chance. He immediately began occupying the part of my heart that I didn't even realize lay dormant. I wasn't consciously waiting to serendipitously again cross paths with Leif. I wasn't consciously saving my heart for him. But I was, until I met Steve.

Once upon a time, I met the love of my life.

He was wonderful, and we were wonderful.

Then he moved away, and I moved on.

Then I got a second chance.

And I did not squander it.

Ramblings of an unfocused mind

It sure is cold here today!! We don't usually get weather like this until January. Brrrr! (I don't want any lip from the New Englanders in the crowd)

Mt. Dora is a tiny hamlet about an hour north of Orlando. I never understood why so many people gushed about this town. To me, it amounted to little more than a handful of "antique" shops (thrift shops really, but the word antique merits an extravagant markup), a lot of mediocre restaurants and a few tchotchke shops (selling candles, decorative ceiling fan pulls, candles, stained glass night lights, candles, dog breeds imortalized in ceramic, candles, sandstone coasters, candles, Vera Bradley totes and candles). Why would I drive an hour to browse through shops that sell nothing of interest to me? 

Because I'm a dumbass.

Lately, the Mt. Dora Chamber of Commerce has been running a super cute ad on television that makes it look awesome. The first time I saw the ad, I rolled my eyes and thought, "P.L.E.A.S.E!" But after the 10th time, I'd mellowed and wondered if Mt. Dora had something for me after all. Yesterday, I decided find out.

It is the same. Whatever.

My friend Alison doesn't celebrate Christmas. My preference would be not to observe this holiday, but that's not the way Steve rolls. If I had my way, the adults wouldn't be exchanging gifts at all. I once asked him how receptive he thought his family might be to the idea. He paused briefly, then answered, "Not a chance." So much for that.

Christmas is celebrated in such a way that it seems to run counter to the message. I love, Love, L.O.V.E. the idea of Christmas; a time when people share and reflect, gather and celebrate. What escapes me is the gift-giving. At this point in my life, there is nothing that anyone could possibly give me that wouldn't be a nuisance. 

Actually, I think that I do like celebrating Christmas. Only my idea of celebrating is different from the standard American version. Of course, I love the music, and I have fun baking for people. I like to plan Christmas activities - last year we went to St. Augustine to enjoy the lights. I like to do extra things for people, and especially remembering my favorite charities at the end of the year. I like everything except for the buying gifts part. It seems so stupid.

I wonder if my neighbors see me hustling across the street with a foil covered plate and groan. Here I am thinking that everyone loves how thoughtful I am, and they're probably wishing that I'd just give them a Target gift certificate. How ironic would that be?

As far as the gifts-as-nuisance thing goes, here's an example...last year, my aunt sent me a box full of goodies. I know she did it out of love, and I appreciated her thought (I continue to appreciate the thought), but jeeze. She sent me a new tote bag, cat magnets, a sweater, a book on cats (which was really good), a romance novel (does she even know me at all?) and a cookbook. I've only got a million tote bags and honest-to-God what am I going to do with cat magnets (besides the obvious)? If I need it, I already have it. Period. I don't need or want anymore things. If anyone really wants to do something for me that I would really, truly like, they can fire off a $10 check to the Humane Society of the U.S. I'm all for that.

Unfortunately people are unlikely to give to charity in someone's name. Even $10. They'd rather spend $50 on crap, than $10 on something that will make a difference in the world. It's a mystery.

Does honoring other people's traditions that run opposite to my own beliefs make me a hypocrite? I buy the people I love gifts because that is how they celebrate. 

It's a good thing that I don't have kids, because they would absolutely hate me. Maybe I could get away with lying to them, saying that our religion doesn't condone gift-giving. Never mind that my children would never know the inside of a church, and that the religion would be forever unnamed. Is it wrong to lie to your kids (wink)?

I think that I really do believe in Christmas, just my own version.

Sandhill Cranes

In the backyard today.

Shopping

I H.A.T.E. the mall. 

I went to the Florida Mall this morning to shop for Steve's sister's Christmas gift. 

The mall sucks. 

It was a waste.

My first stop was Nordstrom. While sampling candles in the Home section, a sales rep approached me, and enthused, "Don't all of those candles smell divine?!" I answered that only two of them appealed to me. If you can believe it, the sales rep was annoyed, and launched into a defense of each candle. Unbeknownst to me, it was my job to be enthralled by everything. She then reached for a votive, shoved it under my nose and proclaimed it her favorite. It was too late before it occurred to me that good manners dictated that I affect interest.

After I explained the focus of my visit to the esteemed [ugh] Nordstrom, she suggested that something from their extensive catalog of cockamamie crap such as crystal vases, enamel photo frames or cashmere throws might interest me. She looked me over a second time, and threw in that they had, "a few nice things under $20." Hmmn.

Who buys crystal vases/candlesticks/votives? For that matter, I don't have a personal relationship with anyone who buys blankets that require dry cleaning. No one I know displays photos in enamel frames in their homes. When I was in my 20s, thinking that I wanted to be the kind of person who had a collection of crystal, I bought those sorts of things. Unfortunately for Nordstrom, in my early 30s, I developed a self-awareness that extended the realization that my style is not fussy. I promptly rid myself of the delicate things I'd acquired. 

But, I wasn't shopping for myself. Sandra was the top person on my list this morning. I didn't like anything for her either. I did come across a velvety throw, but after looking at the price tag - $275 - I moved on.

Then, it was time for Dillards (Dillards is Hell on Earth). 

I failed in my attempt to breeze past the cosmetics section uninterrupted. Because I am a dipshit, I acknowledge makeup ladies who stop me, even though I clearly do not want to be stopped. 

That woman's [who looked like she could be the Grim Reaper's grandmother] game was tight. She wasted no time with polite chit-chat, preferring to notice the fine lines around my eyes, and my uneven skin. She asked to know the moisturizer I use. After I answered that I am happy with my moisturizer and happy with my skin, she peered closely at my face. Ironically, it was out of insecurity that I added, "At least, I'm not insecure about my skin - whatever it's condition." She then grabbed my hand, and smeared wrinkle filler across my wrist. As she did so, I firmly explained that there was no way that I would ever buy wrinkle filler, and that even if I had wrinkles to fill, I would never use it. 

I could never do that job. To nit-pick each and every last superficial aspect of a person just to sell a lipstick...her paycheck hinges on making women feel bad about themselves. When I was in my 20s - such were the depths of my insecurities - I would have loaded up on whatever she wanted me to buy. 

I left Dillards empty handed. Things were bleak.

I headed over to the Godiva boutique. Steve has a mild chocolate addiction, and I wanted to surprise him a box of seasonal truffles. Lucky for me, the only person working in the store when I walked by was a gothish freaky looking dude who scared me off. His weirdness saved me about $40. Uh-huh. What sounds superficial, is in fact wisdom. I have without prejudice approached many people who present themselves as this gentleman did. And I have learned that they are consistently annoyingly odd. No thanks.

Then, Santa appeared from nowhere vigorously rattling a leather strip of jingle bells like his life depended on it. He walked up to me. I smiled at him and said, "Good morning." I thought I was courteous. For the second time in one morning, I disappointed a mall employee. Evidentially, he expected me to be swept away by the magic of Christmas, and see more than a guy in costume. A thousand apologies, Santa. 

People are WAY too needy.

Seriously? M&M World? Seriously?

By the time I got to Macy's, my goose was cooked. If I wasn't driving, and if I didn't have other things to do, I would have planted myself in this joint for the next several hours.

I am sad for the Chinese children who work in factories that pump out this junk. Children are abused so that we can buy THIS rubbish?

And this?

When I got home, this pretty butterfly was warming itself in the garden. Home is where I belong.

Bailout

In order for me to condone financial support of Detroit, I require that they abandon their unimaginative business plan that addresses the buying habits of a 10-year old consumer environment, and focus on what consumers want to buy today. But that’s not possible.

It’s not possible because Detroit long ago ignored the value of innovation and creative solutions. U.S. automakers are currently unable to respond to a consumer market that prioritizes fuel-efficient transportation over wasteful SUVs and large trucks because they failed to anticipate and prepare. They allowed the business of new technology to become the domain of Japanese Automakers.

As I write this, the ink is not yet dry on the year-end bonus checks that the Wall Street elite recently wrote themselves. Even if my government learned nothing from bankrolling the financial instrument of Wall Street with few conditions, I have. I understand that people who are corrupt cannot be relied upon to use good judgment when the only virtue they use for guidance is avarice (if I'm being honest, I knew that before the bailout was implemented. I think that most people knew that). Due to the absence of firm restrictions and regulations, I opposed the Wall Street bailout.  

I emphatically object to financial support of the auto industry.

I object because doing so is a waste of money. U.S. automakers have only themselves to blame, and they are the architects of their own demise.

Detroit lobbyists have a long history in Washington. If financial support for Detroit is approved, it will signal only that our representation is as irresponsible as Detroit.

I sent this to my U.S. representation this morning. If this mirrors your attitude toward the bailout, please lift the whole thing, paraphrase, whatever. Just please, contact your legislators and inform them of your position on the bailout of Detroit.

Steve's Father

Steve's dad had surgery Thursday morning to repair a hernia. Hernia surgery has been performed for decades, and has become routine, so much so that it has been perfected to the point that even new techniques have been developed. 

During the operation Thursday morning, for reasons unknown, the surgeon was caught off guard by the severity of Steven's father's hernia. Instead of a 45 minute operation, he was on the table for an hour and a half.

During the operation, Steven's father was intubated. Because he was anesthetized for a 45 minute operation, he began to wake before the surgeon was finished and panicked at the sensation of the tube down his throat. He bit the tube, severing it, resulting in aspiration.

In an effort to quickly anesthetize Steve's dad, the anesthesiologist overdosed him.

What is a routine, outpatient surgery has become a nightmare.

For the next 24 hours, Steven's father did not regain consciousness. When he finally did begin to wake, the hospital immediately released him. 

Steven's mother is 5' 2", 110 lbs. Steven's father is 6' 2" and 170 lbs. 

The drive from the hospital to Steve's parents house is about an hour. By the time they were home, Steve's dad had yet to fully regain consciousness - slipping in and out of a disoriented state of mind. Steven's mother looked at her husband - 170 lbs of dead weight - and knew that she would never be able to help him into the house. She tried anyway, and he toppled over onto her in the driveway. She was pinned underneath him.

I don't know how she did it, but she finally managed to get him indoors and into bed. He remained unconscious for all of last night. This morning, when he wouldn't stir, she called 911. Then she called us to keep us informed.

When Steve talked to her yesterday, he told her that he was flying up to help, but she refused. This morning after they spoke, she again said No when Steve told her that he wanted to be with them. I told Steve to go anyway.

Right now, he is enroute to Atlanta. From Atlanta, he'll drive 2 hours to his parent's home in South Carolina.

His father will likely be in the hospital for another few days. He is in bad shape.

Following protocol, the hospital is disavowing wrongdoing.

It is bad enough when medical professionals make mistakes, but when they adopt a smug demeanor, and look you straight in the eye and lie about everything, THAT is why people lawyer up.

I am sad. 

It is one thing to have a rarely performed, highly specialized surgery with great risks, and to suffer complications from that type of procedure, but a hernia operation? You're sore for a couple of weeks, but you don't DIE from a hernia.

I feel angry because this is pure negligence. I am sad because this is wrong.

How about that?

I turned off the television at around 9 o'clock last night. I didn't have it in me to watch the results go back and forth until it was decided.

Turner woke me a little after 2am to go out to the bathroom. After we were back inside the house, I flipped on the TV, and Jesse Jackson's tearful face filled the screen. Then, I watched as Barack & Michelle Obama walked offstage.  I thought, "So. That's that."

I kept the TV on a few minutes longer to learn the verdict of the local elections. Then I saw that I'd misunderstood. Barack Obama IS our new president.

I wanted Hillary. 

I thought that Obama degraded himself and Hillary in the primary. I didn't think that I would ever vote for him. Maybe he regretted his actions during the primary. He took the high road in the general election. It was nice to see. 

After thoroughly reading Obama's and McCain's plans, my mind was made up for Obama. Not because I'm a generous person, but because I know that if Obama is successful, then everyone in America wins; the quality of life for all Americans will improve while at the same time paying fewer taxes.

Under McCain, only the rich win. 

Everyone wins because better education equals less crime. That is a well documented fact. Law enforcement costs a boatload of money, and all of the money saved with the reduced investment in law enforcement and jails means more money for everything else. It also means that we are all safer. All of us.

Our present healthcare system is bankrupting America. When those who don't have insurance use the emergency room as their primary care physician (because they can't be turned away), our municipalities are stuck with the bill. People who do have insurance are still left with so many out-of-pocket costs that many are selling their homes to pay their bills. Even worse, people losing their homes to foreclosure due to healthcare costs monopolizing their finances. Thanks to our broken healthcare/insurance system, this country is going down in flames.

Bush's actions - such as invading and occupying soverign nations - have made America MORE vulunerable than ever in our history. Bush has taken this country down with this war. Bush, not the terrorists. 

Over the past seven years, fascism has infected our nation. No one can disagree with a complete moron without being labled unpatriotic or a terrorist. I am looking forward to once again becoming a nation where free speech is tolerated.

A woman once turned to me and said, "You would probably blow up a plane." I answered, "I don't believe in terrorism. I also do not condone the illegal activities my government is perpetrating in my name. Their actions jeopardize my life and the safety of all of us. The fact that you would associate me with a terrorist act, simply because I openly disagree with my government says more about you than it does about me." 

This country deserves better than a mediocre (at best) person sitting in the oval office. It came very close to electing another mediocre person. Now, we have Barack Obama. He is a brillant man.

I am not so carried away that I fail to recognize that America reaps what it sows in it's anemic public education system. We remain a nation of idiots. In the same way that many who voted for Bush the previous two elections did so for the wrong reasons, many of those who voted for Obama, did so for the wrong reasons. However, this time Obama is the right choice.

America is changing.

Baking

I made chocolate chip cookies yesterday. Whenever I make cookies, I whip up a full batch, drop the dough by spoonfuls onto a cookie sheet, then chill them in the fridge. After, I portion them into bags. I can keep the drops of dough in the freezer for a couple of weeks.

Steve and I would make ourselves sick trying to burn through this batch before it goes bad, so I'm going to bake them next week, and send him to work with them. I know what a load of disgusting pigs the employees at Siemens are, so these cookies won't last 10 minutes.

I baked the cookies for Steve. He'd been in California for a few days, and with business travel being horribly exhausting, I thought it would be fun to have a bag of these waiting for him when I picked him up at the airport. A little taste of home. Although, since I don't often bake, I guess it would be a taste of someone else's home. In fact, it has been so long since I've baked; I can't even remember the last time. 

Whenever I bake, I like to listen to Christmas music. I don't know why, probably because when I was growing up, the only time we did much baking was at Christmas. What do I know? Anyway, I'm not a "Christmasy" person, but I L-O-V-E Christmas music. Seriously, I love to listen to Christmas music whether it is a child's choir, sophisticated adult choir, symphony, professional performer, I don't care. My only caveat is that I don't like the Rudolph, Frosty the Snowman, kiddie type songs. The exception is the Chipmunk Song. At any rate, I don't hate kiddie Christmas songs, I just don't like them. I like Ave Maria, Away in the Manger, that sort of thing. 

Last night was the annual Halloween in the Drive at my neighbor's house. She sets up a buffet in front of her garage door, then invites neighbors to bring a chair to sit in, and their bowls of candy. Instead of knocking on our doors, the kids walk around the circle of drunk adults to load their goodies.

We didn't go for a couple of reasons. The first is that Steve was coming home from travel and we weren't home for the first two hours. We could have walked across the street once we were home, but we're no longer speaking to our next door neighbor. She's a bitch, and it wasn't worth it.

Last February, when she returned home from vacation, she came over to my house huffing and puffing that SOMEONE had adjusted the flood lights in the rear of her home. While she phrased this, "Did you and Kathryn get tired of our flood lights shining into your bedroom window and move them?" as a question, it was without a doubt, an accusation.

Naturally we answered that we hadn't. Because we hadn't. But, her charge against us stung. I didn't know that she had such a low opinion of us. I didn't know why she had such a low opinion. I'd always liked her well enough and wondered if I'd done something. It wasn't long before I came to understand that she is kind of a crappy person.

I was disappointed to realize that she'd always known that her lights shone directly through our bedroom window, and that the lights were very likely a nuisance to us. That was extremely disappointing. The lights were and still are annoying (especially when they forget to turn them off at night), but not enough for us ever to have said anything or done anything about it.

Actually, at the end of last year, I finally persuaded Steve to let me order blinds for the window. He'd always liked how light and open the room felt with the window naked, but agreed to the blinds anyway. I ordered them in January, and coincidentally, they arrived the week after Ann returned home from vacation. To Ann, the blinds were some sort of smoking gun, so there was no convincing her that we hadn't messed with her stupid lights.

The lights thing wasn't really that big of a deal to Steve and me. It stuck in my craw a little, but not long. I later learned that it was a BIG deal to Ann (the effing nerve).

The next bitchy thing was Ann and her husband's reaction to their rat problem. 

They had a bush that was growing wild over and through mine and Steve's fence. Two years ago, when Ann asked if we minded if she planted something against my fence (in her own yard, of course), I had no idea that she was going to neglect it. Lesson learned. 

This bush and their home became infested with rats. Her husband cussed Steve out, and blamed us for their rat problem. Nevermind that when they finally did prune that bush, they left the rat nest intact because they mistook it for a bird nest, nevermind that Steve and I didn't have rats, nevermind about a thousand other details. In the minds of Ann and her husband, their problem was ALL OUR FAULT. 

Historically, Ann and her husband have blamed Steve and me for everything that goes wrong with their house. If they found weeds in their yard, they blamed Steve and me, claiming that the weeds creeped over from our yard. The absence of weeds in our yard did nothing to influence their opinion. The Jackson Pollock style bird poop treatment on their chimney is our fault because we put out bird feeders; the feeders they put out are immaterial. The neighborhood cats pee in her flower beds, and it's our fault because we feed the neighborhood cats. Actually, I guess that one is our fault. The point is, nothing bad happens to them that isn't our fault. It is tedious. 

I read this and wonder why I tolerated their ugly behavior for so long? I suppose that I didn't really care because I thought that they were idiots, but I didn't think they were mean. They are my neighbors, and it is better to get along. We weren't friends, just friendly, and I was okay with that.

Back to the rat problem...

The decided to solve their rat problem by throwing handfuls of highly toxic rat poison in the bush, around their yard, and in their eaves. When Steve answered that we hadn't seen any dead rats in our yard, Mike (Ann's husband) accused Steve of lying and then cussed him out. The next morning, when we put Turner out to the bathroom, we found our yard littered with dead rats and rat poison. It was obvious that the rats had been put in our yard, because rats don't die in the middle of a yard; they go to dark, cool places.

The last straw was when Turner ingested some of the poison that they'd thrown into our yard. We didn't know what was going on, and we got the poison away from him as quickly as possible. He got sick, didn't die. But now, he has a liver problem.

Steve talked to Ann & Mike, told them how irresponsible the poison was, and how if they ever trespassed again, he would call the authorities. They claimed that they'd warned us about the poison (LIE), and that they didn't know what we were talking about regarding the trespassing accusation. I am assuming that in their mind, putting dead rats in my yard is the same as me adjusting their flood light - only I never moved their flood light.

In the telling, I have dialed the hostility from them back about 100 notches. 

They suck.

Done!

Early voting in Florida started last Monday. The idea was implemented several years ago to accommodate voters who wanted more flexibility than what one day offers, who also didn't want to go the absentee route.

It was reported on last night's 11 o'clock news that the governor mandated that starting today, all early voting locations would open at 7am, and remain open until 7pm. Steven and I agreed that Orlando is populated by morons, and that No One watches the news. We decided to take advantage of the mandate by getting to our polling place early, zipping in, zipping out, no fuss, no muss.

When we arrived, we discovered that at least 200 of our neighbors watch the news. It still took us nearly an hour to vote. But, we did our part.

Considering how long it took us to vote this morning, and considering that relatively speaking the line was short, I realize that people I saw yesterday waited in line to vote for HOURS. 

I commented to Steve that the joke is going to be on us. Come next Tuesday, because everyone has been voting early, they are going to be listening to the grass grow in the polling places. Also, for early voting, they offer one polling place for 10 precincts, so over ten thousand of us have converged on one building, whereas on election day, everything will again be divided.

Voting, or not

On the way to vote today, the first thing I saw when I neared the polling center was this.

Then I saw this...

and this...

and this.

The line continued for a block beyond the boundary of this picture. So, I turned around and went home. I hope to get the chance to vote later this week. I hope.

I admire these folks. They are waiting in line no less than an hour for their turn to vote. It is amazing what is happening this year.

I used to be friends with a girl with whom I went around and around about voting. She insisted that it didn't matter whether or not we voted. I passionately argued that it did. It wasn't until I witnessed the scores of black Americans lined up at the polls for early voting that the penny dropped. I'd never noticed many blacks voting. Then I wondered how, before this year, I ever thought my vote mattered.

Prior to this year, my only presidential choice has been old white guy, or the other old white guy. That's it. Old white guys. Rich old white guys. What does a wealthy old white guy know about being a poor white girl? Nothing. They don't know the first thing about being discriminated against.

I grew up listenting to my father pontificate about "reverse discrimination". As a professional who formerly worked in an EO office, I know for a fact that a reverse discrimination claim is the excuse that nearly all inept and useless white men use for their lack of professional success. I had a front-row seat to the workings of EEO/AA, and the fact is, the number one choice of hiring managers (remembering that over 90% of hiring managers are white male), is a white male. The ONLY way that a white male won't be hired is if he is a COMPLETE loser (partial losers are acceptable). 

Anyway, this is the first time in my life, that I have a chance to be represented in our highest governmental position. I don't know how to describe my feelings about this, but I am excited. I consider Senator Obama's book "The Audacity of Hope". That is how I feel - brave, brave enough to believe in a better America.

Yes, if it comes down to it, I will wait in a line for over an hour. I have to. Not just for the presidential election, but for all of the others. The religious crazies are at it again - trying to keep the absurdity of marriage to themselves. Share the stupidity people! Seriously! No on 2!

Then, there's the piddly county stuff. The members of the Orange County Commission are  devoid of ethics, and don't have the sense to say NO to kickbacks. So, there's a measure on the ballot, that (if it passes), will make it illegal for them to accept gifts. God, deliver me from these jackasses.

Whitey

I'm preparing the guest room to be painted. I've been laboring over this project for over a month;  dragging my feet because I don't want to go it alone. Steve will help rip out the baseboard, and a couple of other things, but I'm essentially flying solo. Steve flipped the switch on the electricity in this room, so I can't even listen to the radio. Very boring.

I finally scraped the popcorn off the ceiling last week. I spent this morning sanding the rough spots. Even though I wear a respirator, the powder from sanding is so fine that I inhale some of it anyway. I've been coughing uncontrollably all day. I'll be like this for about two days. There are still a few spots on the ceiling to refine, but it is 90% ready.

After I wrap things up with the ceiling, I'll be able to wipe the walls and prime, then paint. I'm painting the walls white. 

Finishing this room is important to me because two other rooms in the house depend on its completion. Once the new carpet is put down, we're moving the bed that's in the front room to this room. Then, we're emptying the breakfront into under bed storage, and putting those things under the bed in this room. After that, we're pitching the breakfront and putting up three kitty condos in the space currently occupied by the breakfront. Finally, I'm getting a new chair for the front room and that space will return to being used as an office.

Hoorah! I get my office back!

At the end of it all, what day would be complete without a little laundry?

And, that's my Monday!

My Favorite Duck!

The Black-bellied Whistling-duck is my all-time favorite duck! I discovered them about three years ago when a pair first visited our humble pond enroute to warmer digs. We already put out duck food each morning, so after spying them, we put out a little extra. Every winter since, we have been rewarded with a few days of their lovely company. This year, we were surprised by an entire flock of these social, funny, beautiful birds. This is an amazing treat!

However, I am conflicted about putting out food for the birds:

On one hand, I wonder if am I misguided in offering an artifical habitat on which the birds cannot perpetually rely? I have no idea how much longer we'll be living here, and I doubt that the next owners will have any interest in helping to support wildlife. I even worry that my butterfly garden is irresponsible.

On the other hand, I figure that I am filling a void created by incessant habitat destruction. Some animal populations are showing promise with increasing numbers. Scientists are pointing to backyard garden enthusiasts as helping to buoy threatened species.

I have no answer. For sure, my neighbors never pass on an opportunity to grumble to me about encouraging wildlife. I want to be a good neighbor, but I love seeing wildlife in my own backyard more.

Saturday

Steven & I visited the Retirement Home for Horses this morning. I've been anxious to visit ever since I saw it featured on Jack Hanna last year. It is only up in Alachua - a little north of Gainesville, but it always takes me a while to get around to things.

The property is 200+ acres dedicated to providing a peaceful place for horses to live out the remainder of their lives. There are retired service horses, blind horses, race horses, a donkey...they're all gentle and loving. Walking the property and feeding carrots to the residents was such a nice way to spend the morning. 

After we left the Retirement Home for Horses, we headed over to the Florida Museum of Natural History. We specifically wanted to visit their butterfly greenhouse. I've only visited two other butterfly greenhouses; one at Lukas' Nursery and another in Key West. This one falls a pitifully distant third. It was kind of a waste, but the body of the museum is profoundly interesting. I can't wait to return, and really sink my teeth into the exhibits. I always loved studying the natural history of Florida in school.

New Member of the Planet

A beautiful orange-barred sulphur emerged this morning. 

I've got a to-do list that's as long as my arm, so it's only natural that I would choose to ignore everything in favor of working in the butterfly garden.