Vote!

OK, two of my friends -- who are nothing alike and have never met -- sent me this video. A week apart. What are you people trying to tell me? And what on earth makes you think I wouldn't? I will admit, the headline is pretty cool. But it's not the first time an old, er, older person has spoken to me like that.

The point is, vote on Tuesday dammit. Don't end up a CNN exclusive. And don't let McPalin win by a vote.

That's My Girl

I knocked on my daughter's door to wake her up around 7:30 one morning last week and there she stood, already dressed, complete with baseball glove on her hand.

A few days before, we had been watching the Red Sox during dinner and somebody slid hard into second. My son said, "He should watch it. He could hurt somebody."

Nina said, "Yeah, like Ty Cobb used to," and went on to explain that Cobb used to sharpen his spikes for just that reason -- to discourage a play when he was stealing a base.

That's my girl.

Sometimes, it's like living with Mini Me. I backed off a little early on, when at age 2 or so she spent as much time arranging her crayons in a very precise, very straight line as she did coloring. I must not have tried hard enough.

Nina's as cynical and sarcastic as they come. Which is saying a lot since she's not quite 10. She constantly rides her brother, correcting and challenging almost every sentence out of the poor kid's mouth. She loves sports and books and animals and exploring. She's fascinated by finding things out, always wanting to learn something new and she gets distracted halfway through a project and moves on to what's next. She'll finish it eventually. She likes games and competing, though she's more interested in beating her brother or her parents than, say, the other soccer team.

In other ways, she is as unlike me as she could possibly be. Not particularly organized. Much more, um, relaxed in the neatness department. She's built like a Russian tennis player. She has her own pace, own agenda, and I'm not quite sure what color the sun is in her world, but I believe it's a happy, girly color like cotton candy pink or a luscious lilac.

Admittedly, these things often want to make me want to scream loudly and rip my hair out. But I know if I did, I'd hear Nina's voice saying, "You know Mom, that's really not a good look for you. But at least it's not gray anymore."

Read Between the Lines, Pt. II

Apparently, although reading before bed is as good as melatonin, blogging for bed is more like adrenaline.

Almost got up to post this at 2:23 a.m., but thought I'd have a better chance of getting some rest without all the lights and sounds and stimulation.

Never really happened. Instead of relaxing, unwinding and drifting off, couldn't stop thinking about all the writing assignments looming (professional and recreational) and how to approach them. Not. Conducive. To. Sleep.

Rats.

Unfortunately, I should have gotten up in the wee hours to jot down some thoughts, because 9 hours later, I don't really care. I will care again. Eventually. I'll interview a wonderful woman who will talk about her cause, it will be like getting hopped up on sugar and caffeine from a lovely non-fat cinnamon latte and I'll get some writing done.

Then I'll crash. And hopefully sleep.

Soundly.

Read Between the Lines

I am, at the moment, between books and quite honestly, I feel a little naked.

You could say I read a lot. Probably four or five books a month (although the behemoth "Pillars Of The Earth" took almost a month itself). And I'm not one of those people who can read several things at the same time. A book is like a nice, hot bubble bath. You wouldn't put the shower on as well. I like to fully immerse myself in one read at a time.

I'm a little obsessive-compulsive, er, thorough when it comes to what I read too. I'll consume as much as I can on a certain subject (art -- "Michelangelo and the Pope's Ceiling," "Strapless: John Singer Sargent and the Fall of Madam X;" Mormons -- "The Poet and the Murderer," "The Biography of Joseph Smith" "Shattered Dreams," "Under the Banner of Heaven") or by a particular author (Margaret Atwood, Elmore Leonard, Jon Krakauer).

Sometimes I'll pick up those "shoulda" books -- classics we shoulda read in high school or college ("The Iliad," "The Odyssey," "The House of Seven Gables").

When I start to feel a little soft in the head, I go non-fiction ("The Beak of the Finch: The Story of Evolution in Our Time," "The Peabody Sisters: Three Women who Ignited Romanticism"). And when it's time for a mindless escape, Anita Shreve has been popping up a lot lately.

Some might call it escapism. I prefer "quest for knowledge." It also helps me get to sleep at night.

But I just finished "Here If You Need Me," by Kate Braestrup, and the two titles I have on hold at the library haven't come in yet. So here I am, caught with my dustcover down.

It's almost time for Harry Potter again, from the beginning and consecutively, but not quite yet. And sadly, there's nothing in the pile of 14 books next to my bed that really interests me at the moment.

In need of some sort of mental fig leaf, tonight I'm going to give "The Last Expedition" a shot. And hope the library calls soon to say my books are in.

Hello, My Name Is ...

Maybe we don't need Dale Carnegie's tips on how to win friends and influence people. Maybe we just need a name. And heck, I got one of those!

I got a notification last weekend that Michelle McKenzie had added me as a friend. No, it wasn't some pseudo-psycho way of learning to love myself. It was from a chick with the same name whom I had never heard of before Saturday. Of course, because I practice safe text, I did ask her first if it was a legitimate friend request or something randomly generated.

Turns out, Michelle McKenzie sent friend requests to seven of the 141 Michelle McKenzies you get if you search Facebook. She said she thought it would be funny to see status updates like "Michelle McKenzie is now friends with Michelle McKenzie, Michelle McKenzie and Michelle McKenzie." I and three others accepted the requests.

It was a little disconcerting at first. I logged on Saturday afternoon and my news feed said "Michelle McKenzie is home after a Mt. Diablo hike and is now zeroing in on the subject of this year's NaNoWriMo novel."

My first thought was, "I am? Did I enjoy it?"

My second thought was, "Rats, the little voices are back and now they're coming out my fingers."

My third thought was, "Oh yeah, it's my new friend in California."

Now it's pretty entertaining to scroll through status updates or live feeds and see "Michelle McKenzie is climbing the PathWords ladder" or "Michelle McKenzie has joined the Word Challenge Club," and catch myself thinking "I am?" Then I think, we'll, maybe I should. (But not PathWords because it drives me crazy to see the message "So and so is improving their vocabulary in PathWords." Argh.)

You can learn a lot about yourself by searching your own name on Facebook, or at least get good background material for making stuff up. It looks like there are MMs in almost every state and several other countries. We are ethnically diverse and span a couple generations, me being at the far end of that spectrum. One of us is apparently a serving wench and another is a pirate. Some of us think we look good in bikinis.

Michelle California and I probably have a little more in common than some of the others. We think Yellowstone is one of the most amazing places on this planet. We both write, have a love of language (even if I refuse to climb the PathWords ladder) and are pretty damn funny, sometimes in a twisted sort of way.

Michelle McKenzie is now friends with Michelle McKenzie. And for the record, there are about 17 Dale Carnegies on Facebook.

Mental push ups

Saw this article on improving brain function and thought it was interesting.

According to Dr. Bernard Croisile, there are five daily activities you can do to sharpen your cognitive skills. To my female readers, keep in mind it's on the Askmen.com website, so you'll probably need to do two sets of the suggested exercises.

I and just about everyone I know have brain farts. (Sorry, not ready to call them senior moments yet. Besides, I have a 7-year-old boy -- our world is six degrees of separation from farts.) And we'll take all the help we can get to improve memory, attention and ... um, whatever else we use our brains for.

Most of these things I do already, like math in my head while driving. Apparently, it helps strengthen your attention span. It keeps me awake at the wheel.

Of course, it may all be a crock -- one part of the article suggests that these exercises help maintain efficiency when multitasking and it's written for men ...

'Nuf said.

But we could all use some mental push ups or sit ups or pull ups now and then. And if occasionally rearranging my desk, reading a story a day in the science or business section or kicking ass and taking names in the Webkinz World arcade keeps me sharp enough to wear my shirt right side out or give my kids milk money, then I'm all for it.

Shhh! The Crashing Economy is Really a Secret

A Tom Edsall column on Politico caught my eye this morning (hat tip Mike Allen's Playbook). It questions whether Barack Obama's campaign will be hurt more if he starts changing his upbeat tone to "prepare the electorate for tough times" or fails "to prepare voters for what's coming."

Do these guys really think voters don't know what's coming? And for those who haven't known for oh, say the last year that the economy is sinking faster than a Tim Wakefield knuckle ball, the last 7 to 10 days have made it pretty damn clear. Whether it's via the Internet, the TV news, the newspapers or the big lightboards in Times Square, we been inundated with the image of the U.S. and global economies as gigantic flushing toilets giving all of us one helluva big financial swirly.

We drive less because we have to choose whether to put gas in the car or food on the table. The one thing we do buy is a couple of extra sweaters or sweatshirts because we sure aren't going to put the heat up this winter. Just about everybody is worried about losing his or her job, knowing that golden parachutes are only for those who created this mess in the first place.

Do the pundits and the experts and the candidates themselves really think the people voting for them aren't aware of how bad it's going to get?

Maybe it's because I live in a Blue State and we're better informed. Maybe it's because I live in Taxachusetts, so talk of tax cuts just elicit a knowing nod, the kind you give to the elderly aunt in the nursing home you won't be able to afford next who tells you she once slept with Elvis or the 2-year-old who says she just caught a leprechaun in the back yard. That's a nice story, hon.

The truth is, we're not voting to change the tide, we're voting to stem it. We're voting for the lesser of two evils, for who won't make it worse. Neither man is going to make it better, at least not in the next four years.

And most of us already know that.

From the Mouths of Babes

So, should you worry when your 8-year-old starts a sentence with: "Mom, I don't mean this in a bad way, but ..."

My daughter, now nearly 10, has actually started a few sentences in such a way. I guess it's good that she's curious. She's also a cynical little thing. She may have been H.L. Mencken in a previous life.

That particular instance was, "Mom, I don't mean this in a bad way, but isn't it a little weird for a grownup to be playing on Webkinz World?"

This came the same day my son logged on to WW and said: "Mom, you didn't win me any money last night. Don't you know it's your job?"

Welcome to my damned if you do, damned if you don't life. I gently explained to my daughter that grownups like playing video games (at least that's what they were called back in the day) as much as kids. And while it may be a little unusual, I like to play games to clear my mind ... or better yet, to not have to think about anything at all ... And because I like to win.

In short, it's how I veg out.

I also explained to my son that winning him money on Webkinz world is not in the official Mom Job Description, however it is one of my special skills from which he benefits. He didn't buy it, so I'm off for some Color Storm. Or maybe Get Eleven Solitaire. After all, I've got a job to do, even if it's weird.

Breast Case Scenario is Worst Case

OK, believe it or not, I started out writing a mini defense of Sarah Palin. Actually, it was more a defense of women, of which I think Palin is one. Trouble is, as I was writing things I firmly believe, I started thinking about some of the stuff she is doing and wow -- just blew my own arguments right out of the water. So what follows below is what I started writing, blended into the conclusions I reached. Hey, just call me Sybil ...

What I had started to say is that while I am not a Sarah Palin supporter, I am getting a little tired of the Palin bashing. Not because it’s not deserved – she’s inexperienced, and stands for a whole host of things for which I have no patience and less respect.

But here’s the thing – it’s starting to feel way too much like the underlying current of the criticism is because she’s a woman. Just like the immediate knee-jerk reaction to her nomination was that women will vote for her because we are all of one uterus, the criticism seems to be genetically based as well.

Now, here’s a thing I’ve learned – as much as men think we’re critical of them, nobody’s tougher on women than other women. From the start, and by start I mean dawn of time, we have been each others’ biggest competition for many things – most prominently guys and jobs, both of which are limited resources if you want a good one with unlimited potential.

At the same time, as much as we may criticize, judge or challenge the way another female wears her hair, does her job, raises her kids, drives, cooks, eats, drinks, shops, talks, sings, votes, leads or follows – we can also find something to defend.

I think I learned that a little later in life than most women do, mostly because I spent so many years operating in a so-called “man’s” world as a sportswriter and editor. I was often the only woman in the pack or one of two or three and the majority of people about whom I was writing were men. It’s still where I’m most comfortable because sports is something I know and love and men are truly less judgmental than women (probably because they’re not quite as smart).

But as I’ve grown closer to my female friends and made new ones, it’s become more and more clear that there’s no one whose going to support you more than another woman. We don’t have to agree or believe the same things, but there is a unique bond based on what we’ve experienced, and if you start to get in that kitchen, we'll circle the wagons.

So, criticize Sarah Palin for believing that we’re carrying out God’s mission in Iraq, for allowing the Wasilla police chief to bill victims for their rape kits, for supporting Ted Stevens and the Bridge to Nowhere, for dodging Troopergate, for only having started paying attention to international affairs in the last five weeks, for not understanding global warming or believing that polar bears are not an endangered species ...

Here is where I was going to list a couple of things about Sarah Palin to defend. We're both moms, both with careers.

I was thinking what courage it takes each day to get up and face the hordes of critics ... but on further review, it's probably ignorance. Really, who has she faced? She's done three interviews, is constantly and consistently shielded from the media, has press restricted almost from the same zip code in which she's meeting heads of state.

I was thinking that all of us have been in situations where we were put on the spot or asked something we were unprepared to answer and have probably said something stupid (for me, "Mazel tov Cocktail" is up there). But we also know that it's better to just stop talking rather than putting together a lot of unrelated words for several minutes ... outloud ... with thousands of people recording these words for millions to watch or read.

And I was thinking that it takes determination and strength to get where she is. The truth is, she's the last best gimmick the Republicans could put out there to draw attention to their dog and pony show. And whether it's lipstick on a pit bull or a Paso Fino, no self-respecting woman -- and certainly none of the women I know -- would allow herself to be trotted out day after day simply because she is a woman.