From Afar

I think I must have a nice big grouping of good days all lined up and coming my way, because these crap days (sorry, but it's just what they are) are really starting to overwhelm and depress me. I must be hexed, cursed, pinned up on a cosmic dart board, something... I can't just blame it on the weather, or the planet alignment, or global warming. Well, maybe global warming.

Anyway, the whole "balance theory" says that you have the good to even out the bad, right? In that case, I should be playing Lotto!

I know, it's not so bad. I have all my limbs. Sure, a couple of them may be bleeding right now but they're all there (yes, really - did I mention I'm the biggest freakin' klutz on the planet? Not to mention apparently I am a great bleeder. There is a "give blood sign" in the hallway here, but it's for tomorrow. At the rate I'm bleeding, maybe I should ask them to come in early so I can just donate now instead of to the floor?) Maybe I can't walk without a limp and a lot of pain today, but I CAN walk.

I have a roof, food in my fridge, and flannel sheets. That should be enough for anyone, right? OK, maybe some gauze would be helpful at this point, but still.

You know the worst part about having a bad day and feeling bad about it? Feeling like you don't have the right to mention it. Someone else is having a much worse day, and by comparison, your day is a day at Disney world. That just depresses me even more. So, I decided to complain about it anyway. Now everyone can tell me what a shallow wench I am, and make themselves feel better.

I thought about taking a break from the blog so as not to be depressing more than my allowed quota per day, but then I saw this story on the debate on whether an obese child is considered an abused child in the eyes of the law. Well, how on Earth could I not blog about THAT?

It was ruled that the child who is the same age as my daughter (8) gets to stay with his family. The argument was that since he weighs over 200 lbs (my daughter weighs in at 55 lbs, for comparison) that he was being abused by his mother. The mother says he refuses to eat fruits and vegetables, eats a snack about every 20 minutes (heard that on the news this morning), and that she flat out refuses to STOP feeding him junk.

I figured this would set off a fire storm across the blog-world, and otherwise. Can feeding your child be abuse?

After thinking about this, my thoughts boil down to "Why the hell not?" If NOT feeding your child is abuse, then consistently feeding your child junk in mass quantities and shortening their lifespan as well as ruining their overall health both physically an emotionally should be too.

At first I was a bit surprised and upset that the government felt they had the right to jump in and actually remove a child from their home over food and weight issues. But after thinking it over, while I don't believe a child should be removed from their home, I DO believe some intervention is necessary. Some MAJOR intervention.

I guess the interesting thing is, where is the line? At what point do they have the right to say anything, and at what point is it none of their business? And if they start to intervene on behalf of the children, when will they extend their powers to the adults? To the food industry? Do you want your government telling you what you can and can't eat?

In the case of children, the truth is that they do not make their own decisions. They are given choices by parents and follow through based on the parents actions. My children eat vegetables and fruit. Yes, mine actually like them which is a bonus for me - but it hasn't all gone smoothly. There have been days when there have been fights, but in my house it's this simple:

Something new - you must try two bites of it. Then you can have something else (a reasonable substitute.)

Something you are used to and normally eat - if you want second helpings of something else, you have to clear out the veggies first.

If you are full, you NEVER have to finish anything else. Saran wrap was created for a reason, and I use it. Sometimes, the meal will make a warmed up appearance later at snack time if they essentially skipped the meal.

I do allow treats now and then. They have ice cream, and pizza and chips like other kids - but only about once a week, or holidays.

It's not that hard in our house to have things run that way. I understand that not all houses run like mine does, but they all have a manner of coping that doesn't involve feeding their child junk from morning until night, resulting in a 200+ lbs eight year old. So, in the end, I DO think that is abuse (barring biological issues that affect this sort of thing.)

Backwards-Birthday

Welcome to my very first Backwards-Birthday. Yesterday, I was 31. If I were a normal person, that would mean that today I would be 32. However, I have more than established the fact that I am not normal. Thus, I am highly qualified to participate in my very own backwards-birthday. This means that today I am celebrating my second 30th birthday.

Seeing as how this is my last year in my 30's until my 20's, I plan to do everything I meant to the first time around for my 30th year. (No, this will not involve sky-diving. At least I don't think it will...) I'm not entirely sure what that will entail. I have a really good grasp on my 20's and so I know how to do them over the right way. But as for the 30th year... what special markers did I miss? I'll have to give this a little more thought... Maybe it was forgetting to get the tattoo? I did get my nose pierced though, and I am not going to repeat that this year as I think having matching nostrils might be taking that a step too far.

All in all, it's very exciting to be heading back into my 20's soon. Really, I think I'll do a much better job with them this time. I plan on not having horrible relationships where I am stuck paying for an apartment, two cars, and a lazy unemployed jerk on a $4.25 an hour job (which I am sure will relieve my husband immensely.) I plan on not hanging onto old toxic friends for five years longer than would have been expected by Gandhi. Oh, and I really won't allow those pictures to see the light of day this time. Really, the possibilities are endless!

Thank you for all the earlier birthday wishes! They are much appreciated!

A Little Composure

For those of you looking for the video-blog I made, don't worry - you aren't crazy. I deleted it. I started feeling really, really, really self-conscious about it. Especially after Mr. Savy's critical comments. Written words are my shelter, and under them I shall continue to hide.

My video blog was simple; it asked the question of whether video-blogging is better in terms of getting your point across than regular blogging. The argument was that when you are simply reading a blog, you miss a lot of visual cues and tone that would otherwise be a part of the package. The flip side to that argument is that you can also be distracted by inconsequential things about the person speaking (say, a nose ring?) and miss out on the message being conveyed to you via a video blog.

For me personally, I think I prefer the standard article style blog like this. The reason for that is that I am able to compose myself better (use the delete key) and relax. I am also not the focus. When you look at a video blog, the blogger IS the focus, without a doubt. (A major part of why I deleted the video.) You might think that by having a blog at all, I put myself as the focus anyway, so what is the difference? The truth is, having a blog doesn't put "me" center, instead it puts my thoughts on whatever happens to take my fancy on that particular day center. That is a very important distinction, for me at least. As I have said before - being invisible in person to other people is a bonus in my book (never happens, though - I believe that falls hard under irony.)

Anyway, a written blog is a way to divorce yourself physically from the opinions and thoughts that you have and thus present a... purer expression. Of course, that's just my opinion. I watched a couple video blogs yesterday as well, and I think I still prefer reading to watching, even when it comes to other people for the same reasons I prefer it for my own blog. But I am still curious as to what everyone else thinks on this subject?

I'm NOT On The Menu

We were going to celebrate my birthday early today by going out to lunch at my favorite restaurant. It would have been better to go out to dinner for multiple reasons, but the old gift certificates from last year stated that they weren't valid on Saturday evenings or holidays. BUT, they ALSO said that they served the dinner menu at lunch - so hey, who cares!

Earlier is BETTER anyway. I've never been much of a night-eater. I tend to dream I am a flamingo dancer on the Titanic if I eat too close to bed time. I won't even tell you what I dream about if I have had any alcohol before bed, you all aren't old enough. (Speaking of which, I'm having a big glass of champagne now - so, Cheers! Hopefully I'll still be able to type by the end of the post.)

So we gathered the troops and headed off to dine on lobster and prime rib (technically, my favorite is the fillet Mignon stuffed with lobster with hollandaise sauce over it and twice roasted garlic mashed potatoes on the side.) I was really looking forward to it, not just because it's like surviving a myocardial infarction to eat there, but because I only get to maybe once or twice a year. We all sat down, and the waitress handed out the menus.

The new lunch menus.

The new lunch menus that stated they only do this nasty buffet thing now for lunch that doesn't even resemble anything they normally serve.

I stuttered like an idiot for a moment or two while the waitress looked at me as though I was having a stroke, until I was able to choke out "...dinner menu?" I got the official eye-roll (I know they put this in the handbook because yours truly was once a waitress when I was 17 for... gasp... the international house of pancakes... *shudder* I kid you not. They even made me say "rooty tooty fresh'n fruity" to people with a straight face. There is nothing like having to do that and getting your butt pinched on a regular basis while wearing polyester to create a permanent aversion to pancakes and waffles.) I was informed that they don't serve the normal menu until the evening, and no - our gift certificates weren't valid for then.

Even though I have worked at restaurants, I have an underlying hesitancy to make a problem out of myself. If it's something nasty with the food, I have no problem at all - I'll make a fuss. But over something non-pivotal, I tend to sit in indecision until after the moment has passed and it's too late.

I was mortified, but this time I actually said something to Mr. Savy. "I... I don't like anything on the menu..." (100% true) Mr. Savy stared at me rather dumbfounded. He asked what we were supposed to do then. I wasn't sure, I felt horrible though. I realized I didn't want to eat there, and I actually said so. I have to say I was rather surprised at myself. Though, writing this out now - it seems like such a small thing. I am sure none of you would have a problem making a reservation (not that it mattered, the place was empty, and now I know why) at a restaurant and then leaving when it didn't suit. But, I have never done something like this.

We're going to go back on my actual birthday on Tuesday, but I admit I am feeling rather embarrassed over the whole thing. I hope none of the people working there today are the same ones on Tuesday. It's not that I made a big scene. I'm not sure why I am so embarrassed, but I am.

However, the champagne is easing the embarrassment with every bubble, so moving on!

Actually, I don't have much to move on to. Minus the fact that I somehow chemically burned my mouth with salad dressing (yes, really) I've got nothing. Champagne, anyone?

Marking Time

Do you ever just feel like you are simply marking time in your life? I feel that way right now... clearly I need to get out more. I'm starting to wonder if this is a symptom of living too far out in the country. I mean, having no neighbors is great and all, but I have to tell you that cows and chickens are NOT the best conversationalists (they won't shut up about the buffalo and ostrich scandal, it's all they talk about anymore.)

I know I am getting stir crazy when a television show actually acutely captures my attention. That is never good. Sure, a book can do this frequently, if it's well written. But a television show? Not so much. However, for the past three weeks I have been rather obsessive about Grey's Anatomy. No, not because of the big soap opera going on with it (stop rolling your eyes, I can SEE you! Oh Alright, I can't, but I know what you are doing anyway), but because of one set of lines spoken during the first of the last three episodes:

"Do you ever feel like you are disappearing?"
"...all the time."

I know, no one wants to hear about why.

It's fascinating, isn't it? Why people read blogs? All of us bloggers are just nutty people who take the time out of our day to sit down and say something. Sometimes it's about political views. Sometimes it's about our lives. Sometimes it's about string cheese. (The cheese bloggers scare me.)

But truthfully, we're just every day people. No one actually cares about every day people, right? When someone asks how you are today, you had better say "fine" back, with all haste. They do NOT care if you are standing in front of them bleeding out a pint a minute, with a lawyer trying to get you to sign divorce papers, while your car is being repossessed behind you. They want the requisite "fine", and nothing more. It would be one thing if it were only strangers who felt this way, but it isn't. It's your friends, your family, everyone.

Of course, every now and then, someone actually does care - and those people are rare. The truth is that it takes energy to care about another person. A lot of energy. I think that's why most people make a conscious effort to NOT care.

So then, why do people read blogs? I was thinking about that, and I think a possibility is that people want to know that others are as complicated as they are. It's comforting (and at the same time terrifying) to know that other people aren't just skin deep. It's good to know people have horrible days too - and yet they survive. And even better, sometimes they tell you about it and you get to file that information away under "how to handle (or not)" for future reference. Or, in the case of Dave's blog - you might just be there for the monkey.

Someone recently said to me that they would never blog because bloggers are exhibitionists, and blog readers are voyeurists. Do you all feel like voyeurs? I don't feel like an exhibitionist (somehow that seems like it would require a feather boa, a tiara, and a trench coat in public - rather than a blog.) I AM, however, someone who can't seem to shut up. I have a lot to say about nothing in particular, and it saves Mr. Savy's sanity to have me spend those excess words in cyberspace, rather than on him. (He sends his gratitude, by the way.)

So maybe the reason I have been obsessive about Grey's Anatomy is the same reason I think people read most blogs - they want to hear someone else who feels the way they do. To see how they handle the situation. To know they aren't alone.

I do feel like I am disappearing. Not that people don't notice me - that's different. Being invisible and disappearing are two separate things. Being invisible is a good thing in my book, which has never worked out for me in person. But disappearing, I guess, is becoming invisible to yourself. Maybe, because it was spoken on a television show - tons of other people feel the same way. I'm not sure that I learned anything much from the show... but I was interested. I had long ago figured out that the main character has chosen to drown - because I understand wanting to.

The gist of the show was that part of her was broken and she chose to go on in spite of it... sorta. I suppose that's the answer anyway, isn't it? Go on broken or whole, but go on. The whole side of "broken" fascinates me though. Is there anyone (besides happy children) who are NOT broken in some way? With everyone broken in some way (more or less), you would think that it would be more accepted to have that flaw, that vulnerability. But it isn't. I was told that "no one wants damaged goods, for a friend or a lover." Keep it secret. From everyone.

I've been evaluating my life for a while now. Letssseeee I'm turning 32...er...30..no 29...maybe 26 on Tuesday, so that will make at least 30 *cough* years of evaluating life. (What can I say, I was a deep two year old.) Maybe I would do better shaving my head, donning robes, and perching at the top of a mountain contemplating the meaning of life instead (42.) Eek! Maybe I missed my calling! A Monk! Well, that or underwater basket weaving.

Where was I? Oh right, broken and secrets. There are parts of me that are seriously broken. I have made an effort to fix them, but it doesn't work. Probably because the broken parts are a major part of what made you who you are today. That sucks, doesn't it? Without the broken parts, you aren't who you are? OK fine, so how do you stop disappearing, or is that just how everyone is supposed to feel and I missed that in the fine print of the handbook of life? Maybe my biggest problem is that I don't see the broken parts of me as horrible (or anyone else's.) Instead, as painful and tangled as they are - they are proof that I do exist.

Yep, time to get out of the house. I may delete this later...

Hiccupedemic

I never realized that hiccups were contagious. Or recurring. Or recurring AND contagious at the same time.

It all started a couple days ago when my daughter announced she had the hiccups. Of course, when you are eight, hiccups are FUN! I remember walking around the neighborhood with my friends and trying to get the hiccups (there was this theory that if you swallowed enough air, or burped too many times you would either get the hiccups or vomit...) It was fun to watch my daughter, because every time she hiccuped she'd giggle. She ended up with them coming back not only twice that night, but then the next day.

The weird thing was, the next evening Mr. Savy had them too! If he got rid of them, they came back in an hour or so. Of course, I found this pretty entertaining. I tried to deliberately have long winded conversations with him just to watch as he tried to hold his breath to avoid an oncoming hiccup, yet make his very serious point, only to be interrupted with a doubly loud hiccup for trying to avoid it in the first place. There is nothing quite like hearing "I really disagree with you on that point. I really think that j... *HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIC* er... sorry, what was I saying? Oh right..."

I know, I'm evil.

Then, yesterday morning I was lifting weights and as I was doing a chest fly a hiccup sneaked up and attacked me. Now, here is the thing: hiccups when you are a grown up HURT. Why is that? Not all of them, of course - but a vast majority of them do. I feel like I am breaking ribs or splitting internal organs most of the time. Oh, and can I tell you - having hiccups when you have a migraine is the 209th layer of Hell?

Anyway, I went about my day yesterday with odd bouts of hiccups sneaking up on me and doing my best to ignore them. However, the kids found it absolutely hilarious to follow me around and wait for a hiccup (they learn well, my minions.) At least, it was funny until my son started hiccuping too. See? Contagious! My son started off laughing, but then ended up mortified when he hiccuped while trying to drink his milk and it ended up coming out his nose.

That went on for the rest of the evening. So, now here I sit... Thursday morning. No hiccups yet, but they might be just around the corner.... Waiting to pounce.... The sneaky little....

In Order To Be Beautiful

At the last slumber party (I was blind enough to be suckered into) my daughter had, I noticed an alarming trend - a lot of my daughter's friends (EIGHT YEARS OLD) are wearing make-up. I thought maybe it was just "dress-up" stuff, and they did it in their off time. After all, I allow my daughter to play around with fake make-up when playing dress-up. It turns out that these girls are wearing the make-up to school. Being that they're only eight years old - I can only assume that their parents are letting them.

My son had a friend visit on the same day (too many girls around for him, he needed male support) and the sister who came with the mother dropping off the friend and was wearing make-up (eye shadow, blush, mascara, lipstick.) She looked like she was pushing at least 13 years old, and instead I was shocked to find out that she was exactly the same age as my daughter - eight.

Then, on Saturday when I was getting ready to take my daughter out for a "shopping date" (She loves to shop, *sigh* I'm more like a guy - give me a purpose, let me shop, let me escape from the time vortex that exists in all stores...) My daughter sat down on my bed while I finished putting on a bit of make-up. She was quietly watching me, which can be rather unnerving, if you have never had a child stare at you like you were under a microscope.

"Mommy?"

"Yes?"

"Mommy, when can I wear make-up? When can I decide on my own clothes and stuff?"

"Umm... make-up, 13 I believe... maybe. Clothes - 40. Why?"

"40? *disbelieving stare, but a little worried*"

"Oh, alright, 35. But, why?"

"Well, I want to be pretty. I want to wear make-up. Everyone at school says you aren't pretty without make-up. You wear it, teachers wear it, my friends wear it..."

"Make-up doesn't make you pretty, it just (oh crap, why do I wear make-up again?) ... hides some things, for the most part. Like if mommy gets a red dot on her face, she can make it disappear!"

"So you wear make-up to hide things that you don't want people to see? Why?"

"Because, I guess they embarrass me..." This was not going well. Why should discussing make-up be so hard?

"But you are still you, even with them, right? So why hide them?"

Crap.

"I just feel better when everyone else can't see them. I know they're there, and I'm still me. It just makes me feel better... Like the dark circles under my eyes (genetic annoyance she doesn't have), they make mommy look really tired or sad, right? Well, I'm not, so I change that so people don't think I am."

"...I just want to be pretty." Sad look.

"Oh honey, you are! People say that to you ALL the time, remember? But even better, you are smart and nice - that counts a lot more! ...WHY do you want to be pretty?"

"Because it's what matters. It's what people see. It doesn't matter how smart I am, pretty matters more."

"What? That's NOT true. It matters SO much more that you are smart and kind. Pretty fades. Pretty changes from day to day. Trying to be pretty only messes up the important things too. You might focus more on trying to be pretty instead of learning, and what do you gain from that? Nothing! Also, not everyone is going to think a person is pretty - just like you can't make everyone happy, or make everyone like you. And think about being nice, you know that girl at school who is so mean to everyone? Does SHE look pretty to you - really?"

"No...I guess not, but I like her hair. Why won't mine grow. I hate my hair. Mommy, I just really want to be pretty. "

How does an eight year old get to this point? She doesn't watch a lot of television, what she does see is Jimmy Neutron and the like - in other words; non-sexed up cartoons. I don't subscribe to any magazines. Is it just inevitable? Is it just society, or biology, or the natural evolution of growing up?

I remember being like this as a child too. I remember worrying over what I ate when I was in kindergarten (my mom had an eating disorder) and counting my ribs, because for some reason I felt that was important. I remember being acutely aware of how ugly I was. I was friends with everyone, but I remember always wishing I could be pretty. I think I thought that people would like me more. Teachers, friends, my parents. I was even afraid that if the house was on fire, the firemen wouldn't rescue me because I wasn't pretty.

I went through a period where I didn't want anyone to see me at all. I grew out my bangs and let them hang down over my face and never looked at anyone (this was 3rd grade until 5th grade - so it started at my daughter's age.) I wanted nothing more than to disappear into the floor. Apparently being the tallest kid in the school, yet resembling Cousin It from the Adams Family, isn't the best way to achieve this. Deep down, even during the "invisible period", I still wanted desperately to be pretty. Eventually I even tried make-up when I was 13, when my mother came to me to ask if I was ever going to wear it (because I had no desire to do so, I was more of a tomboy at the time.) She knew "I would look better with it." Better wasn't pretty, but it was... better.

All through the rest of my school years, I tried everything to be pretty, always knowing that I wasn't good enough. I wasn't thin enough - too fat - to be pretty (this was the biggest one, no pun intended.) My eyes were too close together to be pretty. My nose was too big to be pretty. My body was too awful to be pretty. And if pretty came from the inside too, like all the stupid sit-coms and every after school special liked to tell people in the 80's and 90's- I was screwed.

I was just TOO ME to be pretty.

The worst part was, it was infuriating that wanting to be pretty preoccupied me. I knew even then that wasn't a worthy goal, but damned if I could get it out of my head. I used to make promises that this year would be the one that I was thin enough to maybe be a little pretty. Worse yet, I knew I wasn't pretty for a fact. I had it confirmed. I was told that by other people all the time. So, deep down it was hopeless anyway.

It's been that way my whole life. I know I'm your Average-Joe so to speak; not ugly, not pretty - just me. At least I know that NOW. But up until a few years ago, I was pretty sure I was deeply entrenched on the "ugly" side. The side that cruel people joke about wiping off the face of the earth like we're all deaf standing next to them, or just too stupid to grasp what they're saying. I remember getting my wedding pictures. My mother saw them first and said I looked really pretty in them, so I was excited to see them. I cannot tell you how disappointed I was to see that I still looked just like me in the photos. I guess I thought a model might have stolen into my gown and posed instead. I was depressed for months over those pictures.

I don't think anyone - at any age or stage of life doesn't wish to be pretty if you are female. Which makes me just like everyone else, I suppose. I'm not sure how it is when you are a guy, but hey - you tell me. And maybe it makes my daughter just like everyone else too. Which brings me back to the question - is feeling like this inevitable? Why do we place such a high premium on looks, beyond natural selection?

I have to tell you, being the age that I am, with children; I want for them NOT to care what they look like at all. I want them to care about being healthy and strong, smart and capable, understanding and compassionate. But I desperately want them not to care how "pretty" or "handsome" they are. I suppose that's an impossibility? I have heard many men say that if a woman isn't pretty, it doesn't matter what she has to say. No one will listen.

I grew up with a mother obsessed with making herself pretty enough to be accepted. She threw up, starved herself, worked out for hours and hours on end, had surgeries, took pills, etc. That's hard to shake. I'm trying though, because I know how I see the world affects my children. I used to work out (about 10 years ago) for the sole possibility of becoming thin enough to be considered pretty. I skipped meals. I punished myself, because being fat and ugly is what a horrible person like me deserved - I sunk into obesity through my choices, almost like it was on purpose. Some girls cut themselves or do drugs, I got fat - for multiple reasons. I knew pretty was out of my reach, and maybe I didn't deserve it, but I still wanted it.

It was a long struggle to learn to see my body as a vehicle, not an end destination. I work out now more than I ever did, not to be pretty but to be powerful. Powerful in body, mind, and soul. I'm a better person from the inside out when I exercise, and THAT is why I do it. I'm happy to say that my children both understand this and have never thought that I did it for another reason. Score one for me.

I'm also highly supportive of academic and sport pursuits. I do not encourage trying to be pretty to impress people - except for family photo days. I thought I was doing the right thing. I never talk about how I feel with the kids, Mr. Savy, or anyone else about this - so it's not an "overheard conversation." But either it's not enough, I missed an important step, or it's inevitable that my daughter is destined to feel this way. That last makes me slightly ill, to be honest. I don't want my daughter to feel this way.

It makes me wonder about the "powerful" women in the world - do they worry about being pretty enough? Do all of you? Why, when there is so much to worry about in this world, is being "being pretty enough" even on the radar?

I suppose if I found the key to my not caring anymore, it would be a grand breakthrough. I could write a book and sell millions. I suppose I just wish I could spare my child going through what I have, and what I have witnessed countless other women going through as well.

Snow Policies

As a mom who never really worked once I had children except for in an art studio within my own house or a personal trainer with my own schedule, I am now facing the undeniable conflict between my children's school snow days (and holidays) and my own obligations. I have two major tests today (one down already) and my daughter is with me. My husband has my son with him at home. If it weren't for the tests, I would have them both with me, because school was cancelled for all the kids, but the colleges have stayed open (sadistic people.)

Of course, they opened the college WITHOUT plowing out the parking lots, and leaving others roped off and closed. I literally spent over 20 minutes trying to find a place to park. There aren't local areas for parking otherwise, because the school is as rural as the rest of Vermont. It was a total nightmare. You should not open a college without the parking lots being open... I thought this was a college where THINKING was ENCOURAGED.

Sorry, I'm grouchy today. And on that note, I'm really angry with my husband's company. You all saw the photos, we were absolutely buried in snow. In addition to that, all the main roads around us were closed by the state - LITERALLY. Yet, my husband's place of employ has declared that all the days missed both during and immediately after the blizzard will be taken out of any sick, personal, or vacation time that they have for all salaried and non-salaried employees. Any time spent at home working will only be counted as "half-time" (so two hours of work will only be counted as one, so all that time my husband spent on the computer working on the same programs he did at work, logged into their network, to meet his deadline hardly count now.)

My husband's company would rather he break the law (you can't travel on closed roads unless you are emergency personnel) and risk his neck, than to play it safe or dig out of the snowstorm. For missing today, I totally understand. For missing during the blizzard and immediately following? Well, all I can say is "SHAME on you" to that company (which I can't mention the name of, but they're on my "you suck" list big time today.)

What are other people's snow/weather policies where they work? Is it considered the "norm" to expect people to drive on closed roads, and make it to work when you are getting 30 inches of snow? What about people who live with hurricanes? Do they just expect you to open up an umbrella like Mary Poppins and not be late? Or perchance, take a rowboat in?

Swept Away

Well, we finally had to give up on trying to dig ourselves out and call for help. It was some time around the afternoon hour when I sprained my lower back, and my husband felt like passing out. Never let it be said that we can't take a hint... albeit a little late.

For $50, you too can have a guy show up with a big scrap of metal on the front of his truck and watch the 4 1/2 foot drifts of snow get pushed out of the way. By the way, official snowfall totals: 33 inches here. No, that isn't in the drifts - there are technically drifts taller than me out there.

Once everything was cleared out, we were finally able to make it to the end of the driveway... only to discover that we no longer have a mailbox. Apparently, our mailbox eloped with a passing snow plow, probably so it could move to a place WITHOUT snow.

So, can you order a mailbox online to be delivered via the post office, or is that just wrong?

Political Snow-ese

Experiencing a period of significant inconvenience.

That is what the news said last night about the storm, and how bad it was... "we are experiencing a period of significant inconvenience." I laughed myself silly for at least 20 minutes after I heard that.

Would you like to see what a period of significant inconvenience looks like? Well, it just so happens, I took pictures!

I LOVE snow, don't get me wrong - but I do NOT like shoveling it. I have already hurt my back this morning trying to dig out JUST my garage door. Here is what it looked like before I started:

And this is the REST of my driveway - that's 200 feet long, and between 2.5 feet and 4.5 feet of snow all the way between the house and the road. The road which hasn't been plowed yet, because all the roads shut down last night and the plow operators actually GAVE UP!

This is the picture my husband sent to his boss as the reason he isn't going to make it into work today:

And here are just more general photos:

Experiencing a period of significant inconvenience... So, what would "We're SOOOOO screwed!" look like, I wonder?

I worked out this morning before I hit the snow bank and started shoveling... kind of seems redundant now. *sigh* I've shoveled out a ten foot square area, and almost made it to the tractor (which is completely buried.) Once we get that far, Mr. Savy and I are going to work in tandem. I shovel out the top 20 inches, and he plows the other 15 out of the way. Yes, we have THAT much freakin' snow.

I plan on building a fort later. I figure I need to include a bar, a casino, a dance floor with snow-disco ball, and a lounge area...

V-Day

This Valentines Day is shaping up to be a great one for me! No flowers, chocolates or sappy cards, thank goodness! I got something I REALLY wanted for Valentines day!
A BLIZZARD, baby!

This morning part of my blog post was echoing in my head... (it's empty, it has great acoustics.) The part where I named this snow storm "The Valentines Day Blizzard of 2007". Sure, it's not all that creative, but I'd like to point out the time stamp on my blog and to say "I HAD IT FIRST!"

"The Valentines Day Blizzard of 2007" were the first words I heard out of the blonde bubbly (Just ONCE I'd like to see someone like ME doing the news in the morning with that "OMG, they don't PAY me enough to be up before noon, and they expect me to READ too?" demeanor) news anchor this morning when I turned on the television. Clearly she has been here to visit my blog. I forgave her though, when I saw that my college actually shut down for today as well.

Last night I was oscillating between a panic attack and frustration. Not a flake had fallen, yet my children came home with notes saying the supervisory union had declared the schools closed in ADVANCE of the storm. That was the first time I had ever seen that. I appreciate the warning and all (because there is nothing like wasting 30 minutes in the morning waiting for your school to scroll by on the news,) but this put me in an awkward position. I had two major tests scheduled for today - tests that I was warned I wouldn't be able to just take later. Tests that constitute a major portion of my overall grade.

So, I either needed it not to snow at all (so I could drag my kids in with me to take the tests safely), or to dump so much snow on us that even Frosty closed the sno-cone stand. I got the latter. We have at least six inches on the ground already, and they're saying to expect a total of 30... T-H-I-R-T-Y INCHES of snow by Thursday morning. Now, THAT is what I'm talking about!

Everyone is home, even Mr. Savy. He was so excited to get to plow the driveway with the tractor (it's 200 feet long, we don't do shoveling.) He was as giddy as the kids, pulling on his snowsuit and slamming out the front door. The kids are following fast behind him as I type, and I'm about to go and join them. The best part about this snow day is that I got all my homework done and none has been assigned that would have been otherwise. I ACTUALLY have a day off!!!

Oh, and yesterday our order arrived from Wal-mart. Yes, we're a bit behind the times, but we ordered the games Animal Crossing, and Dance Dance Revolution. Perfect fodder for being snowed in, assuming the power doesn't go out. Snow, games, baking cookies, and no homework... Someone is working overtime to get me to like Valentines Day!

Impending Valen-Doom-Day

Yesterday was the worst Monday of the year thus far. It's going to take some serious work to top yesterday. I would elaborate, but it would take too long - and frankly, I'm working really hard to suppress the memory.

However, I will mention two things that happened to give you an idea (they're the small ones.) The first was a paper cut so bad I had to actually consider going to the ER in case I needed stitches. I didn't go because I couldn't imagine admitting I had done this with my notebook paper to a doctor. It's still bleeding today though. I don't think I have ever had a paper cut this bad. It's almost an inch long on the tip of my ring finger, REALLY deep, and it doesn't seem to want to close like normal paper cuts do. They ought to make scalpels out of paper!

The other thing that happened is that my mother called to - in a sad voice because she thought she had been forgotten - wish us a happy Valentines day. Yes, it's clear her multiple sclerosis is having its way with her brain this month. I had to explain to her HOW to use her calendar again, which day it was, and when it really was Valentines day. My mother's disease has gotten progressively worse in the past six months, and it's just depressing me (my mom is only 52.) OK, it's not the only thing making me sad, but like I said - I'm trying to suppress yesterday.

So, now - about Valentines day. I know, it's tomorrow. I know that it's tied to both catholic and roman traditions. I know that the church recognises about THREE saints named Valentine or something like it. The Why's and Who's are a bit convoluted, so you get to pick your theory of where the day came from:

Behind door #1: A priest who performed marriages even though they had been outlawed to increase the available soldiers for the military (hmmm... maybe Bush will try that one next?)

Behind door #2: A guy who helped Christians escape from prison. (It's like the show Prison Break, but with less soap.)

Behind door #3: A guy who was IN prison, sending notes (aka "valentines") to communicate with others, including a woman who he was purported to "love." (Aren't these the women who end up on talk shows going on about how "he's a good man and I WUV him!" before they throw a chair at the talk show host?)

Oh, and a disclaimer; no matter which door you pick, your guy dies a not so wonderfully romantic death. Also, riding along with true Christianity traditions - every holiday the church celebrates seems to fall right on top of an older pagan holiday, and this is no exception (Lupercalia festival.) Though they did have an interesting tradition of having a lottery to pick out couples to be together for a year. Throw your name into a basket, and get paired up. The romance is just overwhelming. Do you think people switched numbers? "Oh my... Jane... JANE! QUICK! Switch numbers with me! I have heard nasty rumors about him and his sheep!"

Here is a fascinating statistic for you, quoted from the history channel: "Approximately 85 percent of all valentines are purchased by women." Think about that for a moment.

What are your thoughts on Valentines Day? Maybe I'm opening Pandora's box here, but I have to tell you that I think it's one of the stupidest holidays out there (when I said this, Mr. Savy said I must be an alien and not related to the female of the human species. It's apparently well known that every woman must threaten her mate with sexual deprivation and quite possibly death should he not show up with flowers, chocolates, cards and a completely besotted expression for the evening.)

Seriously, I am just not a fan of the holiday. As kids, there was the anxiety over receiving valentines because this was back when the teachers didn't police the cards and so kids only gave valentines to the people they WANTED to. This actually directly relates to why my husband doesn't much care for the holiday either - there were several years that NO ONE (not even the teacher) gave him a valentine. Isn't that horrible? One year, when I decided to give Valentines day a real try - I bought a box of kids valentines and gave him one for every grade, since I didn't know him then, but I would have definitely given him one. I have to tell you though - I am all tapped out after that. I got nuthin' now.

As a teenager, Valentines day was about who bought whom a rose to be delivered during classes in front of people. No, I never got one, but I'm not bitter. I was never disappointed, because no one EVER asked me out in high school - so who the heck would send me anything? I remember one girl who got caught sending one to HERSELF. Now THAT would have been bad. Then there was the guy who was sent flowers by MULTIPLE girls, and they all discovered he was stringing them all along at the same time. That was just flat out entertainment, right there.

I suppose it's fortunate for Mr. Savy that I don't want flowers (have you SEEN how expensive those things are?) or chocolates (eating something out of a tacky pink frilly heart like that is just a little too prissy for me), and cards are nice but those sappy rhymes make me slightly ill - and then you have to go through the "when is it OK for me to throw this away?" phase. I'm just NOT into Valentines day.

I do buy a little valentine treat for my children, though. This year I got them each a little marshmallow filled chocolate heart that says "I love you" on it. Other than that, I'm focusing on the fact that I have two major tests tomorrow, AND.... get this - a freakin' blizzard to prepare for.

We have had next to NO snow all winter. There is a town a few hours from us that has been on the news for getting TWELVE FEET of snow - but we have had a complete lack of snow. Well, now they're forecasting the first Nor-Easter of the season. They're telling us that by Thursday morning we'll have between 10-20+ inches of snow.

I want snow, because real snow is fun. I haven't gotten to cross country ski this year, and it's been so bitterly cold the last few weeks, that this winter is ranked right up in my "worst" list. So a real big storm would actually be entertaining. The kids are really excited. However, the weather service has been wrong about EVERY SINGLE storm so far, so there is a good chance we'll get a couple flakes and then nothing.

On the other hand, I need to drive 40 miles to get to my two massive tests tomorrow. I have to stay at school until 5 p.m. and then drive 40 miles BACK to get home. Something tells me that between those things, and the fact that "the Valentines Day Blizzard of 2007" has such a dramatic ring to it are just enough to tempt Murphy into really nailing the whole area with the entire 20 inches or more.

As predicted, the locals are running about like Chicken Little screaming about the sky falling, and buying every non-perishable they can get their hands on. Me? I'm just doing all the laundry, and a little extra baking in case the power goes out - it's important to have clean underwear and banana bread during a power outage.

So, that is what I am doing in preparation for Valentines day. A true romantic, aren't I? Of course, the flip side to this is that I have the guilty feeling pushing me to do something for Mr. Savy, but I have no idea WHAT that should be (minus showing up to bed with something lacy and freezing on.)

*EEK!*

THEY. WON'T. STOP. SQUEALING!

(at what age do girls grow out of this? Even my son is looking at them like they have lost their minds, and from the way the dogs are acting, I'm going to guess half the notes they're putting out are above my hearing range...)

Anatomy Of A Sleepover

While my childhood had some serious gaping holes in it, one thing I did not lack in was the party-department. Sure, I was left home alone until 6-7PM every night from the age of six. But come my birthday or some other vague reason that was valid enough to warrant a party (like summer vacation), and I was thrilled I belonged to the household I did.

My parents were not afraid of children... OK my MOM wasn't afraid of children (now that I think back on all my parties, dad was nowhere to be found. It's likely he was hiding out in his closet with a stash of Reese's cups to throw out and distract us as he made his getaway should we find him.) My sleep-over parties consisted of no less than 12 girls - ever. TWELVE. That's on the low end, one birthday I actually had 27 girls over. Actually, thinking about that makes me reconsider my mother's sanity. Well, whatever the cause, that was the case. Parents would show up to drop off their pig-tailed hooligans with a sleeping bag and a "May the Force be with you" to my parents before beating a hasty retreat.

I imagine that my parents wanted to personally thank the person who invented Little Ceasars Pizza, because back then it was new, cheap, and in bulk in less than 20 minutes - as well as under a mile from our house. We ran around like idiots. We played games. We terrorized my brother. And we watched movies.... that was kind of new back then too.

Yes, I am dating myself. Shush. The fact is, a video rental store and having a VCR at home was a pretty snazzy thing to have. I remember wandering the aisles of the store gaping at all the white and red stripped Disney tapes in reverence. My mother would rent about five videos, which held us all in thrall when we finally got around to watching them - usually after she had rescued my brother from our clutches, and before we played Light as a feather, stiff as a board and scared ourselves senseless. When we finally got to sleep, on multiple levels as we lived in a small tri-level house, someone always pretended to sleepwalk (was I the only one who found that excessively annoying?) By morning, we were sitting in front of the television watching the videos again and eating cold pizza.

It was a good time. Maybe not for the parents of the said sleep-overs, but as a kid it rocked! Of course, different parents had different values. For example, at one sleep-over at a friend's house when I was in elementary school the parents rented Nightmare on Elm Street. I swear to you that I had nightmares and a genuine terror of falling asleep for the next five (ten) years of my life. I suppose that added to the thrill - when you went to a sleep-over you never knew what you were going to get.

Things haven't changed much in *cough* twenty years. Right now, the windows are rattling. The dogs are hiding, and the cat has hidden himself in the pantry. I hear giggles, screams, raucous laughter, things falling... but they're having a wonderful time. Well, everyone except for my son who is feeling very estrogened out.

I'm a bit more sane than my mother, allowing my daughter only four children for a sleepover. But they'd still rival the running of the bulls even at their best behavior. I have found that in order to be the "cool mom" I have to do very little. Tonight my talents consisted of nothing more than making pigs in a blanket, mac & cheese, ice cream shakes, and chatting with them about their school activities. Eight years old is so easy, isn't it?

I figure they have enough sugar and adrenalin in them to go until 10 PM, when I plan on turning into the monster-mom and zip-locking them in their sleeping bags with various threats consisting of making them eat vegetables for breakfast, and homework sessions. I feel I'm well up to the task.

However, they do have an odd gleam in their eyes now and then which makes me nervous. Maybe I should have picked up Reese's to throw at them after all... Just in case.

Bully

This is a completely off topic (even for me) post. It concerns my children's school. I'm formulating the best way to handle this, but if any of you have ever faced something similar, I would really appreciate hearing what you did/tried/would do differently.

Some background : The school is very small, with a teacher/aide to child ratio of about 1-4. Small town rural area. This includes some overly "rural" people who hold rather strange values (though, these tend to spring up anywhere, from what I hear.)

Once upon a time (hey, it's elementary school, work with me) there was a family. This family had one older child - a girl, and one younger child - a boy. The family, for all intensive purposes, were very into their own "world" which included breeding and raising rottweilers. This family is not looked well upon by most the community, and hasn't been. The older daughter was on a soccer team where the father pulled her over in front of everyone, gripped her face with both hands and simply SCREAMED at her how to do things better, how poorly she was playing, etc. The coach had to step in - nose to nose, to stop it.

The girl has it hard in that house, but our story focuses on the little boy. I mention the experience with the girl to offer some further insight to other familial structure that seems in place. The little boy had an incident when he was about six or seven years old where one of the prized rottweilers attacked him and almost ripped his ear off. In the ER, the family showed next to no concern for their son, and a great deal of concern for the dog - which they insisted should not be reported and lied about. From everything I have heard, this child has a very, VERY sad life.

Now, fast forward a year - in his neighborhood, he had been seen out by himself sighting his gun (yes G-U-N, as in shotgun, not Beebe) through people's windows. During a winter holiday when by himself with his older sister at home, he "accidentally" shot and killed a dog - apparently, it was HIS dog - in the house.

Fast forward another year (4th grade) - this boy had found a few friends at school, and they started hanging out. At first they started off just socially "being boys" together. This slowly morphed into picking on younger or weaker children. By picking, I mean taking things from, demeaning, and mild to moderate physical attacks. More boys joined this "group of friends" who now goes around and causes trouble with the other children. Sometimes, this boy in particular will simply walk up to someone and punch them in the stomach so he can laugh at them doubled up on the ground. Sometimes the boys take sleds (the kids wait in line, the boys cut ahead and shoved my son to the ground and took his sled.) Sometimes they try to get the other kids in trouble (for example, all the kids were lined up, and the boy shoved my daughter into the person in front of her and laughed when they fell down.)

This group of boys has fast turned into a rural and YOUNG version of a gang. They intimidate the other children, mostly because they are BIG kids (just physically bigger/taller) and they don't see any problem with resorting to hurting others. This cows even the older children. The other parents are aware, but I sense a serious unease with confronting the parents as they too are bullies and find it FUNNY that their child does this - even to his sister. This is a small town, and even the parents can be classified as dangerous in my opinion.

The teachers know these things are going on, but from what I am gathering from my children and other parents, not much is being done. The child apparently has a weekly appointment with the school counselor, etc. But when something happens, apparently the teachers have stopped stepping in with a big enough action. When a child is pushed down, the teachers are more likely to tell the hurt child to get up and for the bully to just "not do that."

Recently, the child has been bringing flint to school with him to show off to other students when teachers aren't looking. Apparently, making sparks fly is his new obsession, though he hasn't given up on socking kids in the gut either. He's just broadening his horizons.

Now, background on me. Anyone remember the tragedy with Columbine, in Colorado? Well, I'm from Colorado and I remember it all too well. School shootings terrify me, and here is a kid that delights in other's pain with his very own set of guns (yes, more than one.) I'm not saying he has threatened anyone in that manner - but I'm BEYOND concerned at this point.

I'm trying to figure out what to do, without increasing the danger to my family. Everyone knows where everyone else is - indeed, my husband was the soccer coach who went nose to nose with the father. My husband reads this man as dangerous, the wife as well, the daughter as hopelessly trapped and miserable, and well - I just told you about the son.

Here is what I have so far: I told my daughter to report to any adult anything she sees that isn't right. If he has flint = teacher. Any of the boys punch anyone = teacher. And so on, though this DOES set my child up as a tattle-tale - for which I said make sure she does it quietly and doesn't announce that she is going to go tell. I am going to arrange a meeting with my daughter's teacher, though my husband feels that we should take it straight to the principal (who has announced that she is quitting at the end of the year.) My thought was to involve the teacher who isn't leaving, and hopefully get her on my side and THEN seek upper levels. But in truth - I don't know what the solution to this is.

The fact that my child is in a school with a child like this, who isn't being dealt with sufficiently (or this wouldn't be going on) terrifies me. It makes me want to volunteer everyday just to watch over all the children. This is irrational, of course. More than that - there are two sides to everything. Can you imagine being that little 7 year old boy with your ear mostly torn off and having your parents care more about the dog than you? It makes me ill. But my mommy instincts are screaming, and I have the urge to climb to the top of a mountain with my children and defend them to my last breath... so I'm trying to balance the correct action with the situation and not overreact (which I am so easily capable of).

So, I'm asking for viewpoints and balanced opinions here. My heart breaks for this kid, but at the same time I want to lock him up for hurting others. I want to shout at every darn teacher and aide at that school, but I don't want to focus this family's attention on my family and I any more than it is. ARGH! Someone talk me down off the mountain here...

For some clarification, State Gun Laws In Vermont:
* Gun owners are not liable leaving guns accessible to children.
* NO license or permit is required to own or purchase a gun.
* Records are not kept on sales, and no registration is required.
* Juvenile possession of guns : State law restricts juveniles under 16 from possessing handguns without parental permission or authorized supervision. But there are no restrictions on kids over 16 possessing handguns. There are also no restrictions on juveniles of any age possessing rifles or shotguns including semiautomatic assault weapons.
* School Zones : State law prohibits the carrying of firearms into school buildings, but there is no state restriction on carrying firearms onto school grounds or to school related events. Parents should know that loaded handguns may be legally brought onto school grounds by anyone over age 16.
* If a city wants to enact a law that is stronger than the state's (because the state is run by a bunch of MORONS!) : State law forbids local city or county governments from enacting any local gun laws, even though the state has failed to pass responsible state-wide laws. This preemption of local government authority makes it impossible for cities to enact sensible gun laws to make their citizens safer.



So, you can see why we pull our hair out over the whole gun issue. It is truly unbelievable to me that those are the laws here. And it explains some of my complaints now and again when guns are involved, like my "shoot to kill" post about the dogs earlier. *sigh*

Lazy Lift

At the college I attend, I spend most of my time in one building. It is three stories, but I don't count the first one as it's below the ground level for the most part. The building sports one small elevator that I didn't even notice was there for the first couple of months. Once I did, I said "good for them, making it accessible for all students..." and went on my way.

I ALWAYS take the stairs. I never really thought about it, it's only two or three stories (depending on where you enter into the building.) It doesn't bother me. But I started noticing that the elevator was in almost constant use. Why? Because a big portion of the female population at the college are lazy twits.

I started watching the elevator just to see who was using it. Almost without exception, a primped, high heeled, Paris Hilton wanna-be and her followers would step out of the elevator. That's the generation in college right now, folks. People who are too damn lazy to walk up a flight of stairs.

I will say that the men rarely used the elevator, unless they were following one of the Primped-Plastics in a pheromone haze. I'm pretty sure those guys don't remember much, and probably don't even realize they're IN an elevator. So, bravo guys!

All this was annoying and whatnot, but none of this compared to what happened the other day. I saw a bunch of office staff (women) take the elevator in the morning. Apparently, the affliction of elevatoritis can afflict anyone at any time. I just shook my head and moved on. But at lunch I was on the stairs when I got passed by three of the same office staff going down the stairs. I didn't think much of it at first, but as I was sitting in the hallway they passed me again. And again. I heard one of them say they had to "keep up the pace".

They were "walking slow stair-laps" at lunch. When it hit me, my jaw just fell. These ladies who can't be bothered to take the stairs in the morning were now using them for exercise. I also never saw them come UP the stairs, so I can't be sure they weren't using the elevator to get back up. Worse, when I left in the evening they were leaving for the day as well - and they took the elevator down! I liken this to ordering a salad for the "health benefits" with a 4,000 calorie burger and shake.

People ask me all the time about how to make a healthy change in their life. The first step is to stop seeing activity as something you schedule for 30 minutes a day, and then let the world cater to you for the other 23.5 hours remaining. If you work on the second floor and you aren't carrying 100 lbs of equipment - take the stairs. If you are at a grocery store and it's not below zero or 120 degrees out, you aren't injured, etc - park 1/2 way or further back. Participate in your life physically, and you will be surprised how things change.

Yes, exercise is important. Yes, you should get some form (depending on your goals) of exercise everyday. Yes, I work out six days a week without fail (barring injury) but I also MOVE through my day. I don't expect to be moved through it by something or someone else.

Everything has it's place, and a good reason for using it. Just make sure that you have that good reason too. Get up, live your life, make an effort to breath and remember that this whole day belongs to you.

Shoot To Kill

I was just informed that there has been a "shoot to kill" order issued for my street. My first thought was "You know, I get angry at the Jehovah witnesses and visiting politicians as much (or more) as the next person, but I really think that shooting them might be taking it a step too far..."

My second thought was "I didn't do it!"

...and then I decided to stop thinking (ha) and ask in a very sedate and relaxed manner "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!?!!"

I'm so zen.

Apparently, someone spotted two dogs attacking and killing "livestock" (most likely chickens) and complained, and was granted a shoot to kill order by anyone who sees these dogs running about. I really don't understand the point of this, considering a person has the right to shoot a dog they find on their property attacking animals/livestock ANYWAY. However, it seems that this takes it one step further and allows you to stop and kill one of the accused dogs should you see them elsewhere (like on open land you don't own personally.)

I have several problems with this, the primary of which is that one of the dogs has been described as a "black Labrador". That's it. Nothing more. Well, it just so happens that I have a black Labrador, and down the street a mile - they have a black Labrador, and across the street from them - they have two black Labradors! I'm afraid to even let our dogs out for more than five minutes now, because... and this brings me to my second problem with this whole mess... these people out here should NOT have permission, much less encouragement to be running about SHOOTING AT THINGS!!!

I live in a state that had turkey season a few years back and one hunter "accidentally" shot another one, who subsequently turned around and shot the other guy BACK. I live in a state where a man had a bullet ricochet back and hit him in the leg because he fired at his own reflection. I live in a state where one of the politicians actually came out and publicly suggested that people should be REQUIRED to carry concealed weapons, because not packing heat is violating the constitution as it was laid out by our forefathers.

And you want to ENCOURAGE these people by releasing a "shoot to kill" order? ARE THEY INSANE?!?!?

I'm trying to remain calm about this, and wait until I am able to call the town clerk's office and ask them what the heck they are thinking. But, so far, all I can do is stalk around the house raving like a mad woman how no one should be encouraging other people to fire a gun on someone else's property - unless the dogs were threatening or attacking humans. After all, they don't do a darn thing about the coyotes and wolves here. People are getting cornered by them while they go running, they attack our coop on an almost nightly basis - they're an absolute menace and over-populated. But do you hear about the town doing anything about them? NO!

*sigh*

Guns and morons. I live in a state with guns and morons. And the only thing I have to comfort myself with are those silly red sweaters I bought my dogs this past week. My thought process is that an idiot will think twice before shooting a dog in a nice Mickey Mouse sweater. (You know, it just occurred to me that I managed to work in dogs, sweaters, mickey mouse and shooting firearms into one sentence. That's just wrong in so many ways.)

I Always Feel Like Somone Is Watching Me...

I have decided to involve everyone in the topic this week in my negotiating workplace issues class. It's OK, I'm not going to ask whether you prefer to be yelled at or flogged. I'm not even going to ask whether or not you wear underwear to work. (Well, maybe I will...)

This week we are working on workplace privacy laws. This brings up all sorts of things (and a lot of "ooooo Big Brother is watching us! Oh yes he is! Yup yup yup!" for all the 1984 freaks - it's a book, everyone who reads it checks under their bed for hidden cameras for the rest of their life.) I found it highly amusing that after my post a few days back about checking my potted plants for surveillance that I now have to tackle this topic.

Wow. Maybe they ARE watching me.

So, I've decided to throw the question out to all of you. I think this will be especially interesting being that we have bloggers from all over the world, with varying laws and viewpoints. Right now, in the local headlines, there are all sorts of articles about drug testing, cameras in the workplace, phone calls being recorded and monitored, emails being watched, Internet usage, etc. You name it, they're talking about it.

The laws are convoluted, so it's really up to people to form their own opinions. I'm curious what everyone else thinks of this corporate behavior.

In addition to those issues are the corporate policies that result in lawsuits which involve private, off the clock, time. I remember one from a few years back which involved a woman who worked at a company, and in her off time at a bar was seen smoking by another employee. She was fired. The reason for this was that the company had a non-smoking policy in place. It was also an "at will" state (which meant the employer can hire and fire at will, as long as it's not based on a illegal element.) The woman lost in court. The courts actually upheld that her smoking on her own time, not on company property, not dressed in company clothing or anything else, was worth being fired. The court said she could not smoke anywhere because of the company policies and that her firing was legitimate.

Other cases have followed since then along a similar vein. It really drives me crazy, because it then leads to the question of "exactly how much of a person does a company OWN?" Because, that is really what they are saying, isn't it?

So, I'm asking your opinions, for your stories. What do you think about all of this, and where the world is headed in regards to personal privacy and actions? Don't worry, I won't quote anyone. I'm just simply asking the questions, and honestly interested in what everyone else thinks!

For me personally, I feel that some level of monitoring is reasonable. With people thinking it's OK to do things like use illicit drugs and drive school buses, I agree with random drug testing. Just so long as that testing is done in a respectful manner and used appropriately. I suppose that is the problem, the people who use the power given them abusively. No matter how good the intentions, you will always find those who want to push it one step too far - just because they can.

Do I think that all emails should be monitored? I'm on the fence on that one. Phone calls? If it's business related, fine - but if it's personal, absolutely not. I suppose I feel the same about emails for the most part. Mr. Savy works at a place which monitors everything. Worse, because he frequently works with the government, any rights a normal employee might have are denied him. For himself, he's fine with it. He feels he has nothing to hide, and would like to root out those who are harmful to the program and others. I can see his point, but when I think of the fact that someone may be listening to my personal phone call to him at work - it just offends me on a very deep level.

The most recent monitoring to hit the news are schools announcing that they will start randomly drug testing students whenever they want. I remember this issue being debated when I was in high school. No one ever did anything about it back then, and no one was ever tested - but it was a hot topic. I discussed this with Mr. Savy and the consensus was "Sure, do it. I don't want my child around kids abusing drugs, and I sure as hell would want to know if MINE was doing them..." But is it fair? Does that mean I hold a double standard? I'm willing to monitor my kids within an inch of their lives, but I don't like the possibility that some stranger is listening to me describe what I am wearing to my husband on the telephone? Er... not that I ever do that.

So, how do you feel about someone watching YOU?

Sadistic

Do you know what my homework is for one of my classes? I've been ordered to watch the Superbowl (bad), in it's entirety (worse), WITH the commercials (Oh, the horror!)

That's just wrong right there, that is!

The only upside I can see to any of this is that it didn't say anything about being sober while doing so. (Stop looking at me like that! Mr. Savy is having a Superbowl party, and there will be lots of nibbles and stuff, and with the horrible prospect of 4+ hours of mind numbing sports, wardrobe malfunctions - hopefully not my own, and way too many commercials being thrown at me, I plan on partaking - thankyouverymuch!)

I'm sorry, I just cannot get into watching sports on television. Going to a game, I'm there. Playing it? I'm IN!!! I LOVE playing sports! I played tackle football once with some friends, and a couple of the college linebackers came to play too. I got squashed flat and couldn't breath correctly for three hours, but still - I'd rather play than watch.

But on television? Infomercials are about as entertaining.

Worse yet, my husband LOVES watching sports on television. He likes football over the other "American" sports, but his heart belongs to soccer. Still, with the Superbowl this weekend, he plans on inviting other armchair quarterbacks (lunatics) like himself so that they can all drink and shout out instructions through the television screen. They actually think the players will hear them, I swear. I recall at one party when a play went wrong, one of the guests actually said "And SEE what happens when they don't listen to me?" I think the men figure since a lot of the helmets are wired now (right?) that somehow their voice will magically transmit to them.

This year I plan on explaining that clearly their transmission signal is too weak, and they should all hold hands while they rub their stocking feet over the carpet to build up a better charge. Think they'll do it?

I was contemplating dressing up as a cheerleader for the halftime show, but ever since the Janet Jackson "malfunction".... It's better that I just sit in the corner with my glass of wine, and occasionally throw popcorn at their heads.

So Monday classes might be really hard to face, but I think I'll probably be in good company.

Potholes

Last night I had to stop by the grocery store to pick up a few desperately needed odds and ends (like milk. Why is it that an entire household can come to a screeching halt when you use up the milk in your house? It was never like this before I had children. I blame them.) It used to be that this wasn't a big deal because the dairy is about three miles down the road from us.

Except that the road is caved in. It happened about a year and a half ago. We had horrific rainstorms that literally washed out entire towns (which means about six houses on a road, a gazebo, and a guy who sells moose bacon, maple syrup, stuffed squirrels, and tobacco out of his garage calling himself a "country store") down south of us. Where we are, we watched the water down in the valley pool and turn the meadow into a lake, all the while thanking our lucky stars that we decided to NOT build in a flood plain. The rain took the road (as in eight feet across) with it about a mile down from us. Unfortunately, since the road was at the top of a cliff - you can guess where that road went.

Now, if there is one thing New Englanders love, it's a good argument. The road caved in on the very edge of a specific town. NOT the one I live in. In that town, only four houses exist on the other side of the cave-in. The town does not want to pay the exorbitant fee to fix a road for only four houses. They even considered just making it a dead end. What did they care that they inconvenienced everyone who lives on this road, and their four residents specifically? For myself, I literally have to drive an extra eight miles a day every time I drive to and from school because of this.

My town was enraged, because it interfered with the local county fair, as well as both fire department routes should there ever be a problem (all towns here have their own fire department - all volunteer, their own government, their own school, etc. Politics are their passion, and what better way to have 100 times the normal amount?) The other town sniveled and said that even though they have some of the highest taxes and budget surplus in the state, they shouldn't have to pay for it - and if MY town was so inconvenienced then WE should pay for it. You can imagine how well that one went over.

All the towns out here have rivalry between them, it's nothing new. The trucks that plow the streets work for specific towns and refuse to plow even one foot past a town line. The mail carriers would rather die than set foot on a property other than one in their town. They hold town meetings and try to out do one another with gazebos, festivals, and general activities (not that they're any good in either case.) But this road-issue really set people on edge.

Every time I have to take my detour, I grit my teeth. A year and a half of teeth gritting is becoming painful, I can tell you. Late in autumn last year, I drove down the road to see steam rollers and equipment. I was so excited, and I called my husband and told him that I thought they were finally fixing the road! But it wasn't to be.

It turned out that the equipment was there on my own town's orders. In a real display of childishness, MY town REPAVED the road on OUR side. It didn't even need it. They did it just to prove a point to the other town.

I was so depressed. So, last week when I saw excavators working on that side of the road I was suspicious. Fortunately, rightly so. I didn't get my hopes up as I saw the equipment digging out the side of the cliff and working on that area. The equipment disappeared after a couple days and nothing has been done since. From what I understand, the state stepped in and helped a bit - and that was the state working down there. The rest is up to the town, who is still throwing a temper tantrum and refusing to do any of the work.

I don't have high hopes that it will ever be fixed at this point.

Back to the milk. In order to get to the dairy I have to drive in a huge six mile circle, and considering I was coming from school, it was easier just to divert to a town and go into an actual grocery store. Plus, as a bonus I got to look at all the bright and fun packages that stores have. Yes, I really don't get out much. But seriously, some of the stuff they sell just never ceases to amaze me. Oh, and being a born and bred city girl, I can tell you that the meat department is like walking through a bad horror movie. You do NOT even want to know the parts of animals that these people eat out here. They eat enough of these "parts" that it merits a whole section of various parts of various colors.

I was finally done shopping and on my way out to my car with my cart when suddenly I didn't HAVE a cart anymore. A GIANT pothole was in the middle of the parking lot, and the entire front end of my cart went down into it and tipped over. The hole was over a foot deep and several feet wide, but filled with muddy water, so I never suspected it was there. It may very well be eating small animals and compact vehicles, and no one even knows about it! It certainly did a number on my cart.

I decided it was big enough to go in and mention to the store management. Do you know what I found out? They KNOW about it, but aren't getting around to doing anything about it. Why, you might ask, are they not taking care of something so dangerous? Because the store shares the parking lot with a couple other small businesses, and they don't want to be the one who steps up and pays for it.

At this rate, Vermont is just going to fall off the map into a pothole that everyone refuses to acknowledge or fix. Soon, I'll be hemmed in by cave-ins, wash outs and potholes on all sides. The National Guard will be dropping in care packages. I'll forget what human beings look like. Maybe Vermon