Apology to Mr. President

Dear Mr. Obama,

First of all, I'd like to apologize to you. You might wonder what a normal, within-the-law sort of gal such as myself might have to be sorry for - sorry enough,in fact, to pen this letter. My sorrow and remorse has nothing actually to do with my own personal actions ... welll, except for the actions I have taken in the voting booth over the last few years.

Granted, most of the candidates I choose never get elected. I am a registered Democrat (only so that I can vote in the primaries - I consider myself to be more of an Independent), and I typically research all of the candidates who up for election to the House and the Senate from my area of Florida, and then I vote for the ones who seem to be the least stupid of the lot. This is a practice I adopted after I finally figured out that the only real differences between the two parties here in the US are positions on abortion, gun control, government-sponsored medical care and taxes. Everything else is just window dressing. I try to vote for those who seem they will actually evaluate a bill and really think about its pros and cons and its impact on their constituency before voting. After the ridiculous antics I have seen played out in Congress over the past year, however; I realize that it really doesn't matter at ALL who ANY of us citizens vote for! As soon as they are elected and sworn into office, these US Representatives and US Senators behave like bratty children, stopping their ears to any sort of compromise and deliberately obfuscating every point put to debate. At times I have been hard-pressed to believe that Congress is being powered by anything other than itinerant five-year-olds.

My apology to you, sir, is that we elected these supposedly smart and educated men and women to do a job they are apparently incapable of. I am sorry that the majority of them seem unable to listen to what the American people want and need. I am sorry that none of them are adult enough to act in a real spirit of compromise, because from where I stand, that is the ONLY way that the issues on the table right now - specifically, revising our broken and limping health care system - are going to be resolved. Denying that there is a problem or spreading scurrilous rumors to trick your constituency into thinking that the issues are something other than they are is cowardly and disingenuous. Why are politicians so afraid of change? Have any of THEM ever spent time with no medical insurance? Have they been faced with the outrageous cost of COBRA coverage after leaving a job? Been bankrupted from an inability to even come close to paying overdue medical expenses? Had to forgo care for themselves or their children simply because there wasn't affordable care available to them? And the American people don't want or need a change???

Again, I'm sorry, Mr. President. We have sent you a whole contingent of people to help you to shape the changes of which this country is sorely in need. Instead, you have a crowd of men and women who can't agree on any details that might lead to something the rest of the country would look upon as progress. Instead, they bicker about dollars and cents and abortion rights and socialism and welfare abuse, and the citizens of this country are left to wait and wonder why we ever voted for any of these people, and if anything will ever change up there on Capitol Hill. Instead, you have politicians more concerned with holding up a bill's progress than creating something that satisfies some of the needs of each side and MOST of the needs of this country's poor and destitute. From here, it sure doesn't seem like the help we sent to you in Washington is of much help to you, or to any of us.

I have always been thankful that I was born here, in one of the freest-thinking nations ever founded. I have grown up without famine or disease, with access to great opportunities. But, somewhere along the way, we've lost sight of that free thinking that started our nation, and that - well, that is where most of my sorrow lies. It was a great day indeed when you were elected, Mr. President. Your messages of hope and perseverance lit up the entire country like nothing I've experienced in my lifetime. I felt proud that day, and humbled, and happy. I would like to continue to be proud to be an American, and your hope and optimism help me to be that person. The men and women meant to be representing my interests, though - well, they make me ashamed. I am sorry, Mr. President. I know you are trying your best. I sincerely wish that Congress would choose 2010 to try their best, as well, to reconcile themselves to each other, to your administration, and to the hopes and wants of the people they serve - the citizens of the United States of America. 

Sincerely,

Erin Andress
Orlando, FL

It's Finally Friday

It's really, REALLY been a long week. I have somehow contracted something that makes me feel dizziness/vertigo while sitting at my desk, and I think it is somehow linked to staring at columns of numbers for hours on end - glancing up and down between keyboard and monitor seems to aggravate it - and drinking water, stretching, eating more iron and making sure I am eating throughout the day, in general, do not seem to be helping. I am starting to hypochondrize, here, but I am trying to keep it to a minimum before I start freaking myself out, imagining a brain tumor or something. My ears have been bothering me for a few weeks, so maybe that's it - just a fluid imbalance in the old inner ear. Hopefully, that's all it is and will soon right itself. I hope.

In the meantime, work has been miserable. I just want to lay my head down on the desk and give up. My eyes are tired of the computer screen, for sure. Maybe I should get one of those privacy filter thingies? They're supposed to reduce the glare and be easier on your eyes ... I'll see how things go.

OK, enough complaining! Even if no one is reading this but me, it wouldn't hurt to be a bit more positive. I'm having trouble with the positive today, not because I don't have anything to be positive about, but simply because my eyes and my head are a bit tired, and that makes thinking tough. Still, all the things I love in the world are still around, which is pretty awesome, and Christmas is coming, and Patrick is in my life (just typing his name makes me smile to myself), and my parents and sibs are all alive and well, and I have a good job, and a good apartment ... all things to rejoice in, no? I think so. I guess the petty physical discomforts, etc. really do pale next to those things. I've definitely got worries, but nothing that can't wait and nothing that is more important than being excited to see Patrick and the kids tonight, to have dinner with them and maybe watch a movie and laugh and just hang out. And tomorrow, I get to hang out with my Mom and sisters and make Christmas cookies. Sunday, I think Patrick and  are going to a Christmas get-together at a friend's house. So, it's all good - really.

I'm not 100% cheered up (who can be, when they feel like they're walking next to a cliff edge all day with steel boots on ... and there's a magnetic railing boted to the cliff just over the edge of it and out of my line of sight?), but I"m about 90% cheered up, and I'd say that's pretty darned sweet.

Next post I promise to be more topical and not so whiny about myself. Sound good? 

Calypso Cookies

I am 100% in love with Publix's Calyso Bites cookies. They are just regular cookies with coconut and walnuts in them, but they are DELICIOUS. If you know me, you know I am not so much a cookie person - but these babies knock my socks off. The perfect blend of sweet and not ... I found some recipes online that claim to be similar. Here's one:

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CALYPSO COOKIES

1 stick margarine (1/2 cup)
1 cup light brown sugar
1/2 cup white sugar
1&1/2 teaspoons vanilla
1/2 teaspoon almond extract
1&1/4 cup quick cooking oats, crushed in a blender
1 cup self-rising flour
6 oz. dried pineapple, or half a can crushed pineapple, strained through cheesecloth & patted dry
7 oz. shredded coconut
1/2 cup chopped walnuts or pecans

Mix margarine, sugars, vanilla and almond extract; set aside.
Process oats in blender until they are a fine powder, add flour and oat powder to the margarine mixture. Blend well. If mixture seems too dry, add one egg.
Add pineapple, coconut, and nuts to the mix.
Make into balls (slightly smaller than a golf ball) and place on a greased and floured cookie sheet. Flatten ball with a fork and then bake at 350 degrees for 15-18 minutes.

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I am not so sure about the pineapple - I certainly don't taste it in these Publix cookies, but the rest looks about right. I got this from http://www.recipelink.com/; there are a few other variations on this theme there if you want to look. Hmmm, that bite may have had pineapple in it. Give these babies a try, seriously. Unless you are fantastically afraid of (or allergic to) coconut, I can see no reason why you wouldn't fall in love with these little sweeties, as well. I may add these to my Christmas cookie plate list!

Ciao (chow!)!

License plates

Is it me, or does Florida have an unusually high number of themed license plates? It seems like almost every day I see a design I've never encountered before - an animal, like the Florida panther or a manatee, or maybe a school I've ever heard of (Lynn University?) ... and that's just the tip of the iceberg. Did you know that Florida offers license plate designs that identify you as a Miccosukee or Seminole Indian? How about plates that identify us as the "Golf Capital of the World" or ask us to "Support Soccer"? Every branch of the military is represented by their own plate design, and firefighters, sheriffs, and the police force all have a plate (as well as P.A.L and the Florida Sheriff's Youth Ranches). There are plates asking us to stop child abuse, salute veterans, share the road, stop heart disease, and protect everything from coral reefs to dolphins to sea turtles. I can't imagine how we stack up against other states, but it seems like a little bit of overkill, all these choices, don't you think?

Speaking of choices, please note that Florida offers not just one, but THREE plate designs all aimed at conservative pro-life citizens (Choose Life, Family First, and Family Values), but there is not even ONE plate designed for the part of the population who believes that their choices about their bodies are their own. No "Choose Choice" or "Choice First", is there? Sometimes it is tough to believe that we are indeed in the 21st century, and, in the good old U.S. of A. there are still people who believe that it is their own job to make personal choices for other people. I would never insist that someone change their religion, or make a choice about their own body and health simply to conform with my own ideas of right and wrong. Your body, YOUR choice: my body, MY choice. Women have spent too many years in ignorance and fear to ignore the choices that are safe, ready, and on the table.

What a shame that such a culturally rich state, with more than its share of women in the population, has allowed these three license plate designs - three! - to be made available, without a single counterpart showing the other side of the debate. In fact, let me amend: I think that NONE of these plates should be available. This is a personal issue, decided one woman and one family at a time, so let the discussion stay there, instead of emblazoned on the back of your car. Free speech is indeed a right in this country, so I suppose people will continue to purchase and display these overplayed designs, and those of us who don't agree will just continue to grin and bear it.

I don't object so much to the opinion of the "Choose Life" folks as much as I object to the way that the plate seems to be an order, badly camouflaged by the child's crayon drawing that is the background. It's like forcing down bad-tasting medicine by encasing it in a spoonful of honey - I'd rather taste the medicine, thanks - at least I know what I'm getting, and I know it's the truth. I won't choose ANYTHING just to please someone else, or to fit in with their view of the world. I truly don't understand why those of us who urge the right to make our own choices are so opposed. We are asking that right for everyone, not just some people. I personally don't care what another person decides in regards to their unwanted pregnancy. All I care about is that this country offers that woman the security and freedom to make that choice, as needed, and  provides the training necessary to its medical community so that women can seek care not only for abortions, but for everything associated with women's health - including prenatal and postnatal care.

Hmmm. All that from a few license plate designs. Yikes.

French Poetry May Be The Death of Me

"La Beaute". By Charles Baudelaire. Sounds harmless, doesn't it? Like it'd be something lovely, something you'd like to hear read to you by a lover, or as you were drowsing on the bank of a slow-moving stream some warm spring day ...

It is SO not. It is a terrifying and torturous piece of French rhyme that was clearly designed for no other purpose but to drive me insane. First, however, before I commit myself to the tender mercies of the state mental hospital and shock therapy, I have to READ this poem (poeme, I guess), OUT LOUD, to a room full of people. Why did I agree to this, you might ask? Well, I thought I could handle it. How hard could it be to read a poem, in French, out loud - this is what I thought to myself as I blithely answered, "why not?" when the question was put to me. I received a joyful smooch on the lips and a delighted, "Really? You'd like to?" in reply, and THAT prompted me to really throw caution to the wind and say, "Of course! I've always wanted to do something like this!!" In reality, I've NEVER wanted to do something like this, and as tomorrow evening gets closer and closer, I feel more and more hunted and unsure.

I have practiced this dreaded piece - not a whole lot, but enought times to have two- and three-word phrases popping up in my mind at completely strange times. "Je suis belle, O mortels!" and "...jamais je ne pleure et jamais je ne ris ..." don't really have a lot of relevance in my daily life, so if I utter them aloud, people stare at me like I'm one of those weird homeless people who mutter to themselves in what sounds like it could be another language (maybe it's French poetry, who knows?) as they walk around with their shopping carts ... and so I just let the words wash around in my head, and hope that some divine power hits me before tomorrow at 9pm and enables me to suddenly, without hesitation, pronounce strange foriegn words with complete confidence and correctness.

I agreed to this so blindly, never considering that the last time I used French on any kind of a day-to-day or even weekly basis was when I was still in college (!), and that was entirely too many years ago for me to rely on the experience now. Sure I have the French boyfriend, and have spent countless hours since I've met him happily listening to conversations between him and his other French-speaking comrades, but I don't actually use the language myself, beyond an insouciant "Oui?" or "Quoi?" when asked something directly. I'm tickled enough when I can spend ten minutes listening to a conversation and manage to get the gist of it without having to put the "I'm the dumb American" look on my face so that one of them will see it and translate the words into English for me. I am proud of my renewed recognition of vocabulary and idioms I never thought I'd actually hear come out of real people's mouths (I never considered the voices on those tapes in the language lab to be from real people - they were definitely language robots). I am proud of my grasp of my own native tongue - English - and my ability to read aloud in that language. I am scared breathless, however, of speaking aloud in French, especially in front of the native French speakers I know will inevitably be there.

If the French were not so universally eloquent-sounding and stylish, I think I could just brazen it out. But I am simply terrified of being seen as "the bumbling American", and I think I need to get past that, if I'm going to avoid wetting my pants tomorrow night. Simply said, I would do anything reasonable and within my power (and even some things that were UNreasonable and NOT within my power, perhaps) to help Patrick or make him happy. And me saying yes to this proposition makes him really happy. Therefore, I will get up on that stage and embarass myself, and you know, I don't think he will even notice. He will just see me doing something to make him glad, and then I will indeed BE glad because he is glad and ... hunh. That's not really working. Still nervous. Slightly happier because I wrote Patrick's name, and he makes me happy, in general, but definitely no happier about the beastly poem.

Hmmm. I think I will just go by standard public speaking rules, then: go slowly (people will think you're speaking from the heart and from knowledge if you slow down & space out your words - but not in a slow-motion/creepy way - I hope this works in French!), make eye contact with your audience as much as you can (makes you seem trustworthy and interesting), and, of course, imagine that everyone there but you is in their underwear (but like their I-haven't-done-wash-in four-weeks-so-this-is-my-absolute-last-pair of ratty-briefs-and-tatty-undershirt underwear, so you can giggle about it inside your head as you speak). Plus, the damn poem only has four short verses, so I probably won't expire before I finish. If I fumble a word, I fumble a word. I will bravely march on, and try not to mangle the poor poem's meaning too too much.

If anyone in a beret sneers at me, though, I'm chucking a baguette at their head. Then I will calmly finish my poem, pull a cigarette out of my pocket, and light it with a flourish. Smoke will pour from my nostrils as I silently challenge the audience to taunt me. I will then slouch my way to a corner and nurse a glass of red wine while others read. I will look haughty and bored. I will drape myself artistically over my chair and the table, and make sure I seem to have stepped from the pages of an avant-garde fashion shoot. I will, though, abandon my psuedo-French demeanor when someone else finishes reading - then I will clap enthusiastically, like the bumbling American that I am, because I know how it feels to get up there, and I'll be proud of anyone else who attempts to do the same. And then, I'll go home with Patrick, and there will be hugs, and kisses, and, well - you know (and I'm not French, so I don't have to talk about it), and he will tell me he is proud of me, and I will tell him I'm proud of him, and we will both be silly and happy and all will be well.

I'd say it's worth it.

A demain ...     

Getting started

Simply said, I never thought it would be this difficult to get started. I thought that conversation topics would flow to my brain and out of my typing fingers like water in a snowmelt-swollen river. I got nothin', folks. Perhaps it is the time of day I am writing - worn out from working all day (but certainly not on anything creative)? Or maybe I am just clearing the first hurdle of blogging. Maybe everyone feels this way at first. A little bashful, a little unsure of what you could possibly have to say that might be interesting to the wider world.

I paged through a few random blogs today before writing this, and they were interesting, and varied, and gave me some good ideas for how to structure my own blog. Thanks, peoples. I am not, as a rule, very big on "organization" of creative pursuits, but it does appear that the more specialized the blog, the more followers and discussion it tends to have. Not a lot of interest in reading random ramblings. So I am going to continue to ramble until I stumble upon some things I feel I can safely discuss until the end of my days, and once that happens, I will narrow the focus and topics herein. Sound like a plan, Stan? If your name's not Stan, just ignore me.

Talk to you tomorrow!

First day

This is brand-new for me,and I just set the darned thing up, so bear with me, here. Actually, I am reasonably certain that no one but me will be reading this for quite some time, so this is really just a note to myself, a hello if you will, a welcome to the neighborhood.

I look forward to venting and commenting on a array of topics, and maybe, someday, someone else besides me will even want to read this. It's a possibility! Hang tight, and I'll be back soon enough.