traitor

I am an American, born and raised. I married a Canadian, born, lived the first few years, then moved to America by his parents. He loves America and knows more about its history and government than most Americans I know. But he remains true to his native country, and has not (and I suspect, will not) relinquished his citizenship.

He's also a sports fan -- particularly of those sports which are integral to Canada. So, last night, when Team Canada won Olympic gold in Men's Curling, he was so excited. I was not only excited for my husband, but also for Canada to win on their home ice.

Tonight, Team Canada did it again! In a great game, they beat the U.S. in Men's Ice Hockey. I was at the store with Ted when the overtime goal was shot, and the look of thrill and pride on his face was priceless. Again, I find myself rooting for Canada, and for the same two reasons. The big difference this time is that they beat my homeland to get gold. Does that make me a traitor? No! It just means that I love my husband, and I'm happy for him.

grateful

The power at both our store and our home was only out for about 12 hours. Although we had to battle the incredibly loud fire system alarm that buzzes continuously when the power is out, call the building manager down at midnight to shut it off, sleep through an increasingly chilly night, and work full days without benefit of hot showers, we survived unscathed. There are still hundreds of thousands of people without power two full days after the storm. I feel so bad for them, and for everyone who lost trees, vehicles, roofs, and more in this monster storm.

i had an excuse, part ii

I would have blogged last night, but my computer was otherwise occupied. And I had planned to write tonight about the events of the last day, but my evening got away from me. So instead, a mere acknowledgement of the fact that we had a storm, it knocked out power, and I'm still not to the point where I'm dedicating a specific amount of time and a real determination to write creatively. Good night.

gah

I didn't know what I was going to blog about tonight. I just figured I would put up another peep-type entry because -- after getting home late from work after a mentally exhausting day -- I spent some time this evening hanging out with my husband, chatting with my nephew and an old school friend online, and planning to go to bed early. But then I started to watch this video, and I can't stop, and it's making me shake because it's frustrating as hell.

Props to Marianne Kirby and Crystal Renn for being eloquent and moderately patient in the face of MeMe Roth (no link because she's bat-crazy and should not have the national stage that she gets, so she's not getting any more exposure from my three readers). And Kim Benson, who I'd never heard of before now, and who started off being fairly innocuous in the glow of her recent successful weight loss, but who has grown increasingly MeMe-like as the conversation has progressed. (No link for her, either.)

I should have gone to bed an hour ago. And this video is still going. And I can't turn the damnable thing. OH! And I'm so glad I didn't because Marianne just stated something so beautifully, I feel compelled to quote her.

"I feel like we keep trying to re-frame it as a 'if we're concerned about health, why aren't we talking about actual indicators of health?' And the answer is, 'it's not really about health.'"

Huzzah! She goes on:

"We want to frame it as health because we're progressives and because we genuinely care about the health of people. But I don't believe that looking at a fat person and judging them immediately as unhealthy without knowing anything about their actual health, their lifestyle, (or) their choices... I don't think that any of that actually has anything to do with a concern about their health. It has to do about the way we think about bodies in our society."

Huzzah, again! More, more, more:

"If we want to talk about health, let's talk about health. And let's not use weight as the sole indicator."

OK, enough of quoting. TR, if I haven't told you before, I love you. And I thank you for carrying the torch when so many of us haven't made the time to truly turn on the activism gene.

And with that, nerves jangled, muscles tensed, and nearly two hours later, time for sleep.

i had an excuse

Someday, I'll fix my father's obituary. You see, like so many other people in the same situation, I had only a couple days to write it. And although he had been in ill health for many years, and the underlying fear of his eventual passing was always somewhere in my mind, I made no attempt to prepare for writing about his life when the time came.

And so, in my fresh grief, I struggled to celebrate him, the amazing person that he was, and all of his accomplishments. First, trying to include them all. Then trying to edit them to a reasonable length.* All while my head physically hurt from crying for 24 hours straight, getting 45 minutes of sleep, repeatedly questioning every decision I'd made in the previous 10 days, and realizing that two decades' worth of anticipation of death doesn't lessen the impact.

But I need to give this task more time, concentration, and effort in order to effectively right the wrongs I perpetrated in the original. And so for now, I simply say, it needs amendment. Amplification. And a thought process not pickled in sadness. I hope that day comes sometime soon.

* Some other day, when I'm not experiencing a moment of loss, I'll discuss the travesty that is being required to pay (a lot) for newspapers to run obituaries. I don't care how poorly your publishing business is going -- obituaries are a matter of public record. And everyone's life deserves to be acknowledged, whether or not their surviving family members have any money at all.

how faint the tune

I snapped this picture as I was leaving work Friday night.


And now, some Ella Fitzgerald -- a stunning talent and one of my favorite songs.

it's everywhere

The other day, I blogged about a random heart posted on a tree by the side of the road. Today, I found another.

This one, a simple heart nearly filling every inch of a regular piece of paper and stapled to a telephone pole. I parked in a nearby lot to walk over to it and take a photo, when I realized that it was at the end of Love Lane. How sweet.

I walked back to my car and was turning around to leave when I found another heart on another pole. Thinking there might be something to it, I decided to drive up Love Lane. Lo and behold, each telephone pole on the street had two or three hearts pinned to it. Both sides of the road. From one end to the other. The last house before the street ended, had a giant heart painted on it and lots of little hearts carved into the porch banisters.

I didn't take any more pictures, as it was a small neighborhood, and my parked car and camera-ready wandering might be disruptive. But it was kinda' cool.

flashback

This is me in 1983.


And my date, Bob. Cute, weren't we? Senior corn roast at my high school (that's a can of soda pop being lifted). It was a fun night. After the corn roast, we went to the movies to see Mr. Mom. But it was sold out, so instead we saw Jaws 3-D. That epic was so bad, we laughed our way through it. When it was over, we drove an hour to the ocean to look for Jaws in person. It was a late night getting home, but it was a blast.

I just found Bob again thanks to a certain social networking site. He commented on the status of a mutual friend from our home town, so I sent him a note. By the next day, we were reminiscing about life a quarter century ago. Ain't technology grand?

third time's a charm?

Nope. Another day with a pathetic blog entry. And this weekend's super busy. Not looking much better. Oh well!

quoting britney spears

Oops, I did it again. Still need to get my head around this daily blogging thing. Maybe by the end of the year, I'll be better at it. Here, watch a nice video. Actually this is the first time I've seen the video. But I really like the song.

oops

I was supposed to write something today, wasn't I? Bad me.

still snowing

It's cold out here in the living room, and I don't want to turn the heat up. I also need to wake up early to (once again) brush snow off my car and shovel out around it. I know we've had it relatively easy this winter. But that doesn't mean I'm not going to complain when a foot of snow finally falls. Cranky in my old age.

So, off to bed to solve both those issues. Good night.

every little bit

I've been following Kevin Smith on Twitter for a while. This came after he stopped regularly writing on his blog, which I read for a while before then. I'm a Kevin Smith fan. Although I don't think I'm hypersensitive about profanity and such, I have occasionally been slightly stunned by his remarkable candor when talking about sex. But it's never been so offensive as to stop me from reading what he writes, watching video of his performances, and enjoying his movies.

That said, his candor has been a gargantuan wellspring of excitement in the last couple days, as the man was beat about the head and shoulders with Southwest Airlines' Fatty Fatty Two By Four Mood Swings. As of Sunday evening, Google shows 919 articles about the incident.

Long story short, if you've somehow missed it, after buying two tickets on a Southwest flight (in compliance with said FFTBFMS policy), Smith attempted to get onto an earlier flight via standby. Southwest boarded him onto the plane with a single seat, and he was sitting -- seatbelted with lowered armrests -- when a flight attendant told him that the captain was booting him off the flight. Through many machinations and a couple of poorly worded public apologies, Southwest claims that his 'person of size' status dictated the move.

Smith launched a Twitter attack of epic proportions. The news channels quickly seized on it and started banging away at this new angle of the daily OMG Teh Obesity Crisis!!!11!!! discussion. As much as I feel for the guy having to go through this (it's another post, or perhaps a book, in which I discuss my personal air travel issues), it's a remarkable gift from above that a celebrity with a fan base and a platform or two has experienced this nightmare. I can only hope that his righteous ranting will shed enough light on the situation that the airlines realize something different must be done to deal with the issue of cranky customers who complain about us fatties daring to occupy the same mode of transportation with them.

I fear, however, all the red herrings that will be thrown out, and in fact, are already popping up. Claims like "fat passengers increase the aircraft's total weight, which will crash the plane" (a few hundred extra pounds when talking about a vehicle that is many tons?), "fat passengers block the path in case of emergency" (because they're just sitting still when everyone else is evacuating?!), and my favorite, "don't the poor, stupid fat passengers know it's bad for their health?" Oh, and the comments. Lordy.

So, I'm sorry Kevin Smith, that you have to fight this battle. But I'm glad you're fighting it, and loudly. There are millions of fat folks who suffer such indignities (at the hands of corporations, individuals, governments, and systems) who have neither the temerity nor the voice to wage such a war. In my perfect world, you wouldn't emphasize quite so vigorously that you are not THAT fat, though (i.e. you were able to sit comfortably with the arm rests down and no seat belt extender). Those people who are not able to do those things still deserve to be treated with dignity.

As always, there's a lot more to this discussion. But I've already spent far too much time talking about it tonight -- especially considering that I haven't even gotten into the whole First Lady anti-obesity crusade, the raft of craziness at a certain grocery chain, or the general demonization of food.

lovely day for the beach

It's Valentine's Day. And although Ted usually works the store open to close on Sundays, he enlisted our regular employee to relieve him at noon today. So, we exchanged Valentine's cards and gifts (tomorrow is Glee viewing day), went out for lunch, ran an errand, and then headed to the beach.

The beach? In New Hampshire in February? Well, it seemed like a good idea. It hasn't snowed (and stuck) in weeks, and the sun was shining. We certainly weren't the only ones who'd thought of it. Hampton Beach was downright crowded. There was a little less traffic at North Hampton Beach, and fewer people still at Jenness, where we stopped. Lots of dogs at every location. That said, once we were walking on the compacted sand, the wind made it quite apparent that we wouldn't be staying too long.

We managed to visit with a few of the dogs as we wandered along, exchanging pleasantries with their tethered or free range owners. And I took a couple of pictures, including this tidbit of sea wall advice. But the chill drove us back to the car, where we continued North up the seacoast, enjoying the ocean, marveling at all the beautiful houses and their spectacular view, and wondering when we'd have the chance to give visitors this tour again.

We arrived home, bundled up on the couch to watch a movie, napped, and had a nice sandwich for dinner with some rice crackers. All in all, a lovely day.

roar

One niece and one nephew joined Ted and me for a Manchester Monarchs hockey game tonight. We got four free club seats plus a free parking pass from one of our sales reps at the store. It was a pretty good game, and the Monarchs won, which is always a bonus. Extra bonus that the super nice couple in front of us who had arrived early enough to get free t-shirts at the door, decided that they had enough Monarchs gear at home and gave their new t-shirts to Courtney and Ryan. How nice is that? But more fun than anything was hanging out with Court and Ry for a few hours. What a blast.

marred

RIP Nodar Kumaritashvili

love

Silly. Most people talk about sweethearts around this time of year. Husband, wife, boyfriend, girlfriend, secret crush. But at this moment, I profess love for the company where I've worked since the summer of 2008.

work

No entry that even approaches the highly intellectual and psychologically enthralling experience of the "peep" posts. Important meeting at 8:00am tomorrow requires much preparation. I wonder what tomorrow night's blog entry will be like? Could go one of several ways.

r.i.p. comet

I will miss my sister's dog, Comet. An incredibly sweet and personable Golden Retriever. Gone too soon.

moonlighting

Not sure what I was thinking when I agreed to writing for my company blog. I should have known better than to believe I could write one entry a week in any less than six or eight hours. Why can't I go faster? Gah.

So, now with no time to write my own entry, I'm again cheating with a peep. Tonight, I'll do my best not to think about the fact that one of my favorite jazz singers is going to be a few hundred yards away from my home this Wednesday, and unless Ted has some great secret up his sleeve (i.e. tickets), I won't get to see the performance. Feel like wailing like a big baby. I WANNA' GO! I WANNA' GO!

But that wouldn't be dignified. And would hardly help the situation. I hope you enjoy our fair city, Mr. Elling.

finding the heart

Last weekend on the drive to Mom's house, my attention was captured by what appeared to be a broken heart fashioned from wood and mounted on a tree by the side of the road. At the time, I had a full 'to do' list, and wanted to stay on track. Onward I drove.

I found myself thinking about the display of art/affection during the week, though. So, today as I headed back home after visiting Mom, I made it a point to stop. That is, after I scoured the treeline of a tree-lined road for 20 miles before finding the right tree -- while driving in the opposite direction. I made a couple u-turns in the process. But on the day of the Big Game (and because I was in The Sticks, New Hampshire), there was no traffic with which to contend.

Upon closer inspection, I discovered messages.

"It's broken worst than you know"

"I love you"

"Thier is no distance so far apart"

"You will alway have a piece of my heart"

Heartbreak is bad for spelling and grammar. But good for art. I wonder if the beloved is aware of this installation.

P.S. Finally photos from my new camera. This occurred because today I also procured a new computer.

ayuh

I went to college in Maine and, after graduation, lived in the state for another three years before defecting to Seattle. It's a nice state. If you believe everything you're told, it's "the way life should be." I don't know if I'd go that far, but it has its good qualities.

I bring this up because I stumbled across the Maine Maven blog yesterday, and just fell in love with the header (see martini at left). I'm not sure how the the potent potable fits into the Maine lifestyle (I think it's more of a beer place), but the garnishes win.

Since my stints in Washington and Connecticut, I've made my way back to my home state. But every day I cross the Piscataqua to work in Maine, where sometimes I partake of wild blueberries or lobster.

appreciative

The last two winters were hard. For '07-'08, the first year we were in New Hampshire, it was the second snowiest winter on record. In '08-'09, it wasn't much better with blizzards Every. Single. Weekend. This year, however, has been refreshingly less brutal. At least, in our little band of the region. Other New Englanders have been digging out as much as usual. And we have still had more than a few bitterly cold and/or windy days. But in the grand scheme of things, I'm finding myself regularly happy by things like not needing to wear boots for a couple weeks at a time. And so I thought I should offer up my gratitude to The Universe, Mother Nature, and the blogosphere.

By the way, this photo is one I actually took myself. LAST winter when we lived in The Shoebox. This was the sidewalk in front of the house after a blizzard. Don't miss it.

photograph

I recently purchased a camera, using a combination of holiday gifts to pay for it (cash from a Christmas card, a Visa-type gift card, and a winning scratch ticket from my stocking). I've taken a few photos. Several are of the how-the-heck-does-this-thing-work variety. Lots of weirdly lit pictures of my palm, retina-intensive cats, and zooming in on distant objects. Part of the reason I wanted the camera was to be able to take photos when I wanted to take them and, more to today's point, post them on sanguinary blue regularly. That said, none of the shots from my new Canon have made it here yet.

There is logic here, believe it or not. I continue to work on my sucky emachine by the grace of God (my profile is corrupted; I'm using a guest profile to function). Until I can fix or replace it, I don't want to add anything to its already tentative hard drive -- including camera software or photo files. So, I'll keep pilfering images off the 'net, and plodding along.

That's it for now.

some things never change

One hour and nineteen minutes. That's how long the conversation with my college roommate lasted tonight. And really, one of the only compelling reasons for it to end was that my cell phone was about to burn a hole in my cheek.

It's good to have good friends.

actual

Tonight, I had a 'to do' list that got done. Hot diggety dog, it's been a long time since I've actually finished one of those things. Admittedly, it was not complicated.

* Make dinner
* Eat dinner with Ted
* Do dishes
* Go grocery shopping
* Put away groceries
* Reorganize refrigerator
* Blog

Technically, the list won't be done until I publish this post. But I'm going to do that momentarily. Yay, me. Good night.

one would think

One would think that without television, progress might be made in other areas. One would be wrong; primarily because television isn't the distraction. It's this crazy thing called the internet.

That said, there are evenings when I'll watch an hour or two of TV. That hasn't been possible since the lights went out on Friday. Despite the extra time, I have not immersed myself in the attempt to write some real, perhaps even mildly interesting, blog entry. And now, in an effort to get more sleep to aid in my recovery, there's no time left at all.

So with that, I leave you with this nice photo of the 2008 Jaguar XKR. Purdy, ain't it?