Politics for Dummies

For 25 years I avoided politics. Ignored blissfully. The closest I have ever come to politics was when Obama came to the bar I worked at in Michigan for a much needed drink after a long talk about HOPE and CHANGE. My view is, politics are like religion. Even when you are on the same side you don't agree on the same things, and when you are on the opposite side its pretty much a matter of life and death. Offend no one or offend everyone. Plus, it never completely affected my life, even after "becoming a grownup". No matter who was in office, I still had to pay my taxes, obey the laws, and go about life in a generally same fashion. Would it be nice if  my government could do certain things, like figure out the economy died because of the amount of debt I was in? I still say that if the government canceled all my loans I'd go out today and buy a car and a house. Would it be nice if i could decide whether or not to buy healthcare? Wear a seatbelt? Sure. But if I could go through a week without worrying about Congress, then it really didn't matter what was going on.

Somehow, this year, I've gotten bit by the political bug. And this is why. I learned a few shocking secrets.

1. The President's job is basically like being a parent in a badly functioning relationship with multiple children. It's not rocket science, but you have to learn to delegate, mediate, and for Goodness Sake Be Honest.

2. Congress is like wiping the toilet seat with paper before you sit down. Unless it's wet, its Totally Pointless.

3. There is no such thing as Republicans and Democrats, only really angry people who call each other stupid names when they disagree with something the other one things. You know who else does that? A 2 year old in a sandbox who just found out that the "poophead" on the swings likes applejuice. Applejuice? Gross. It's all about the chocolate milk. What a freak. I hate to say it, folks, but in the end we really all want the same basic things. Health, happiness, a place to live, enough money, enough food, and the FREEDOM to make our own choices and mistakes. All that stuff that is fought about? It really shouldn't be the government deciding that anyways. Way to nitpick the details so we ignore pressing issues like illegal immigration and a completely failed economy.

4. We (Americans) say we just want a president who understands us. A normal, everyday guy (or girl...ha) who had to struggle to get by just like most of us. The sad news is, unless you are rich, you don't get to run for president. In order to get your issues known, you have to be in press conferences and national debates and on the ballots. In order to have that happen you have to be a serious contender. In order to be a serious contender you have to have lots of advertising and buzz. Without ads, rallies, etc, you only have the internet. Most people don't take the internet seriously - we just aren't of that generation yet. Also, you have to raise a certain amount of money for your campaign in order to even get on the ballot in every state, otherwise you have to pay mucho dinero or get like 5000 signatures of people wanting you. So unless you have a few million or more to throw around, you pretty much don't stand a chance, especially since you can't get large donations from corporations, only "people". Beginning to see why certain people win?

5. Politics shouldn't be a career. I get 4 years or 8 years of being president is hard. Lots of pressure. Lots of death threats. But once you are done, I hate to say it, but get a job. I'm pretty sure you could write a book, be a movie star, or a seriously Kick A Consultant. "One hour with the ex president and your business will thrive!" I don't want to pay for your lavish lifestyle until you kick the bucket. Same for everyone in Congress, and the House, and the Senate. Do I appreciate them? No, not really, because again, its no harder than being in a relationship. Work on it, negotiate, and stop being so damn selfish, and maybe we could get a few things done and you would earn your 200K a year. Maybe.

6. Several years from now, that 1% and that 99% are really going to be "first class" and "peasants". The peasants are mad that the first classers have so much freakin money and aren't spreading it around. It really doesn't seem fair. The first classers are mad that the peasants don't seem to appreciate that much of that money came from their hard work in the beginning. Now if a peasant became a first classer, would they give all their hard earned money away to again become a peasant? Probably not. But at the same time, it does seem pretty crappy that so much money is so unevenly spread. Unfortunately, that's life.

I should probably stop here. I guess what I am getting at is, I feel the need to do something. Vote, maybe. Run for president, maybe. Something to help people get together and recognize that everyone feels the same way and if we could strip away the petty idiocy we could actually make a difference instead of voting in bought yahoos with an agenda - become famous and retire rich.

Well, That Was a Disaster

Back around Thanksgiving we had a big party at work and as gifts, we all received a burlap sack containing a can of pumpkin, a tastefully decorated jar filled with layers of flour and brown sugar and such, and a card on which was written a recipe for pumpkin bread. I've been meaning to try it but haven't gotten around to it yet--too much gingerbread to bake, you know--but I just found a recipe for pumpkin white hot chocolate and remembered that I had that can of pumpkin in the pantry.

I won't give you the recipe here because I'm not convinced it's worthy--although I intend to keep tweaking it--but the gist is that you whisk together milk and pumpkin puree and a variety of appropriate spices, wait for it to get all steamy, and then stir in white chocolate. Present to applause.

I thought the pumpkin looked a little curious in the can. It wasn't a brand I've ever used before, or even one I've seen in the grocery store. I imagine the party planner at work got them in bulk through some sketchy back-alley deal. But I plonked in a sizable dollop and proceeded with the spices.

Well. It was not a success. I poured two big mugs for myself and the hubby, and we both took a sip and just about spat it out. I went back to take a look at the can. On the front it said, "PUMPKIN: 100% Pumpkin!" And on the back it said, in extremely tiny print, "Ingredients: Assorted squash."

Squash hot chocolate. Oh, oh, the awfulness. We'll file that under M for Mistakes I Will Never Make Again.

In Which I Nearly Refuse an Invitation

Here's what happens at my place on Saturdays:

I plonk myself down the couch and surround myself with all manner of cookbooks and magazines. I page through the cookbooks and peruse pretty pictures and imagine what's getting shrively in the fridge and needs to be used up. (In an ideal world I would get up and check the fridge instead of imagining it, but I've already plonked myself down and I don't care to disturb the delicate balance of magazines on my lap.) An hour or so later I have compiled a complete menu for the week and a categorized shopping list. I am intensely proud of my lists and go show them to my husband.

"Do you really want to schedule the whole week?" says he. "Wouldn't it be good to leave a day free for something else that might come up?"

"Nothing will come up," I say. "This is a perfect menu and nothing will change."

"Something always changes," he says. "You've been doing this for a year and we've never yet had a week that perfectly aligned with your menu."

"This week will," I say. I am confident. I go to the store and I procure all manner of produce and meats and extra butter because I dread being out of butter. I come home and put groceries away.

This is usually when the phone rings. Do we want to go out for waffles with friends?

Yes. Absolutely. Push the whole menu back a day and call it good. Not once does my husband say "I told you so." Hurrah.

Tuesday. Cheap night at the movie theater. Do we want to grab Mexican and see a film?

Of course. Yes. Splendid. I stick tonight's fish in the freezer and hope we can finish the watercress before it wilts and command the hubby to have kiwi for lunch tomorrow because no way it makes it to Friday.

The hubby is still not saying he told me so. Bless him.

Friday night. Pizza and wine and Apples to Apples at a friend's house?

No. No. No. Because I was going to make a mango and red onion salad with roasted chicken and probably an orange-honey-sesame dressing, and I have peaches and blackberries defrosting in the fridge at this very moment waiting to go into a cobbler. And it's just not going to hold until Saturday. (Even if it did, Saturday is listed as "Date Night" on the menu and the hubby says I'm not allowed to change it.)

Screw it. Apples to Apples it is. Friends are more important than food. But here's my menu for next week:

Monday: Macaroni with Prego sauce

Tuesday: Frozen broccoli. Possibly rice?

Wednesday: Pizza Hut

Thursday: Meh

Friday: Spaghetti-Os

So come on over, because at the House of Kate you've got a menu you can count on.

"Turn around discreetly and throw it somewhere"

In the daily ins and outs of my job, I occasionally happen upon a book such as the following.  Upon which I often spend rather more time than I ought desperately biting my lip to keep from laughing out loud in the workplace and giving myself away in the midst of my not-strictly-work-related-activity.

Excerpt from Practically Useless Information: Food & Drink by Norman Kolpas

SIXTEENTH CENTURY TABLE MANNERS FOR CHILDREN


Excerpted from De Civilitate Morum Puerilium (On Civility in Children), published in 1530, by Dutch philosopher Desiderius Erasmus:


 On Coming to Table:
 Come to the table clean and in a merry mood.


 On Pausing Before Eating:
 Some people immediately descend on the dishes the moment they have been set down. Wolves do that.

 On Banquet Settings:
 At banquets, two people share each soup bowl and use squares of bread (trenchers) to serve as plates.

 On Letting Others Go First:
 Be careful not to be the first to put your hands in the dish.


 On Avoiding Greediness:

 What you cannot hold in your hands you must put on your plate.

 On Resting Your Hands:
 Do not rest your hands on your trencher.

 On Drinking:
 Do not drink more than two or three times during the meal (mostly wine diluted with water or thin beer), and wipe your lips with a napkin after each sip, especially if a common drinking-cup is used.

 On Food You Cannot Swallow:
 Turn around discreetly and throw it somewhere.

 On Bones:
 Do not put chewed bones back on plates. Instead, throw them on the floor for the dog.

 On Licking Your Fingers:
 It is impolite to lick greasy fingers or to wipe them on your coat. Better to use the tablecloth or the serviette.

 On Burping:
 Retain the wind by compressing the belly.

 On Sitting Still and Avoiding False Impressions:
 Do not move back and forth on your chair. Doing so gives the impression of constantly breaking, or trying to break, wind.

 On Spitting:
 Turn away lest your saliva fall on someone. If anything purulent falls on the ground, tread upon it, lest it nauseate someone.

 On Sharing Your Handkerchief:
 Do not offer your handkerchief to anyone unless it has been freshly washed.

 On Losing Your Food:
 Do not be afraid of vomiting if you must; it is not vomiting but holding the vomit in your throat that is foul.


So, the lesson is, of course, that throwing your food on the floor and vomiting are perfectly acceptable mealtime activities as long as the alternative is worse.

Accordingly, Mr. Kolpas indicates that today, January 31 is National Brandy Alexander Day!  So have a drink friends; you've already made it 1/12th of the way through the year!

HOLIDAY EATING TIPS

Normally I don't even bother reading the holiday emails that get spread around like a cold in day care...but this one resonated so completely with my feelings about holidays and food, I had to share! 

1. Avoid carrot sticks. Anyone who puts carrots on a holiday buffet table knows nothing of the Christmas spirit. In fact, if you see carrots, leave immediately. Go next door, where they're serving rum balls.

2. Drink as much eggnog as you can. And quickly. It's rare...You cannot find it any other time of year but now. So drink up! Who cares that it has 10,000 calories in every sip? It's not as if you're going to turn into an eggnog-alcoholic or something. It's a treat. Enjoy it. Have one for me. Have two. It's later than you think; it's Christmas!

3. If something comes with gravy, use it. That's the whole point of gravy. Gravy does not stand alone. Pour it on. Make a volcano out of your mashed potatoes. Fill it with gravy. Eat the volcano. Repeat.

4. As for mashed potatoes, always ask if they're made with skim milk or whole milk. If it's skim, pass. Why bother? It's like buying a sports car with an automatic transmission.

5. Do not have a snack before going to a party in an effort to control your eating. The whole point of going to a Christmas party is to eat other people's food for free...lots of it. Hello?

6. Under no circumstances should you exercise between now and New Year's. You can do that in January when you have nothing else to do. This is the time for long naps, which you'll need after circling the buffet table while carrying a 10-pound plate of food and that vat of eggnog.

7. If you come across something really good at a buffet table, like frosted Christmas cookies in the shape and size of Santa, position yourself near them and don't budge. Have as many as you can before becoming the center of attention. They're like a beautiful pair of shoes. If you leave them behind, you're never going to see them again.

8. Same for pies. Apple, Pumpkin, Mincemeat. Have a slice of each. Or if you don't like mincemeat, have two apples and one pumpkin. Always have three. When else do you get to have more than one dessert? Labor Day?

9. Did someone mention fruitcake? Granted, it's loaded with the mandatory celebratory calories, but avoid it at all cost. I mean, have some standards.

10. One final tip: If you don't feel terrible when you leave the party or get up from the table, you haven't been paying attention. Re-read tips; start over, but hurry, January is just around the corner. Remember this motto to live by:

"Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, a glass of red wine in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming "PRAISE GOD, what a ride!"

Revelations

I recently googled the name of a blog I was trying to find- we are looking for some guest bloggers so we can up our weekly blogs, you see, and while I didn’t find who I was looking for, I did find about 50 mom bloggers who all came to the same idea: as mothers, we have absolutely no idea what we are doing. Then, out of curiosity, I started looking up other things. Relationships. Dating. Fashion. Dieting. Blogs and blogs and blogs of them. You know what I have discovered?

NO ONE KNOWS THE EPH WHAT THEY ARE DOING. Not a blessed honest soul. Those who do are either lying or have those annoying advice blogs that no one reads because, (by jove I’ve got it!) no one wants advice, we want to commiserate Goshdangitt! I don’t want to read about how perfect your kid is and how best to model mine after it. I want to read about how you too had to comb dried spit up out of your hair and how you didn’t cry about it until four hours later when you were looking at pictures from last month thinking that what if that were the LAST TIME YOUR PRECIOUS CHILD SPIT UP ON YOU. I don’t want to read about how your finances tripled overnight on the stock market while you canned and cooked and baked from the vegetable garden in your modest 4 bedroom that you purchase in all cash because you went to a college you could afford so you don’t have loans. I want to read about the poor family who defaulted on their student loan so their kid could get braces while they were eating offbrand poptarts because they are cheaper than the real brand even though you can kind of taste the difference and no we don’t share bedrooms we just don’t drive a BMW. Live within the means type of thing.

I guess my point is, we rant and we rave but at the end of the day, we want to spill our guts and in exchange are willing and even anxious to read your spilled guts, as long as our guts can rant and rave together. The minute your guts crow over mine about their perfect lives I’m outa there.

In the name of not know what the eph we are doing, I’d like to throw out just a few things I did wrong today that prove I had no idea. Maybe the rest of you do.

• -          I forgot to buy breakfast bars again and spent three hours at work wondering why I was so hungry.
• -          I stayed up most of the night with my 5 month old who was rolling around whining, and allowed myself to get irritated before I remembered she was teething.
• -          I sat at work on the computer (facebookblogsgmail) before looking at the clock and realized I have 2 hours to get done 2 days worth of stuff before I had to leave. I’ll probably be staying late. Stupid stupid stupid.
• -          My hair, for the 7^th month in a row, is in a ponytailbun with my bangs pulled back and about 3 inches too long. I could spend some time and money and style it or cut it. Or I could just keep thinking about doing it…
• -          I spent $150 at Walmart on food and crap when I could have spent $75, and then wondered why I didn’t have money for later in the month. But it was really good crap.

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What did you today without knowing what the eph you were doing? 

So Why Don't I Have a Boyfriend?

“I'm kind of pretty, and pretty damn smart.”

          “You are!”

“Thanks! I like romantic things, like music and art.

     And as you know, I have a gigantic heart!

So why don't I have boyfriend?

     F*@$! It sucks to be me!”

                                            – Avenue Q

The pages of my 'dating diary' are rather empty. I can count on one hand the number of times I've been attracted to someone who was attracted to me at the same time. I'm reasonably certain there have been a few times where I was attracted to someone after they were attracted to me, but that is sadly unhelpful in the grand scheme of things.

So I wonder, what's wrong with me?

The pat response is, of course, nothing is wrong with you! You just haven't found the right guy yet. Or, you would be such a great girlfriend/wife. It just takes time. You're still young. There are lots of people your age who are still single. Of course you're going to get married.

I don't mean to be the Debbie Downer at the pep rally or anything, but my record, as it stands, indicates otherwise. I'm just being realistic, at this point. And despite what people say, I am past the average age of women who get married, so my odds are only going down.

So again, I ask, what's wrong with me?  

Because seriously, not to play the bitch card, but I personally know girls who I think are less attractive than even my rather dim outlook of my own personal appeal, and others who have all the personality of a brick, who have managed to attain, maintain and retain a spouse. Even including my appearance, there are quite a few things that I like about myself. I mean, come on...I'm hilarious! So what is it, exactly, about my genetic/environmental/situational cocktail that has thus far prevented any mutually beneficial partnerships of the romantic type from being willingly contracted? I would really like to know. Because I'm quite sure, myself, that I'm rather well-suited to the role.

Why I'd be an awesome girlfriend/wife/kept woman:

Number One: I have all the necessary, requisite parts. This is sort of 'Being a Girl 101', but it bears mentioning. Biologically, I'm all set.

Number Two: I like men. I can imagine that it would be kind of difficult to be in a relationship with a member of the opposite sex if you were constantly working against your dislike for him just for being of that gender. I'm rather sure it would become an issue at some point.

Number Three: I am interested in being in a relationship. If not, it would be like that time I tried to become a runner. (If you don't even have the least bit of interest in actually doing any running, it's kind of impossible to achieve.)

Number Four: I have mastered the balance between bra-burning feminism and retiring femininity. I appreciate chivalry: opening doors, pulling out chairs, giving over of jackets. It makes me feel delicate and precious and giggly, and just generally 'swoon-y'. (Side note: swoon is a weird word. Say it five times fast. Swoon swoon swoon swoon swoon. It kind of makes you dizzy. ::nudge nudge:: pun INTENDED!) But at the same time, I don't need the extra consideration, just because I'm a girl. God blessed me with two functioning arms and the foresight to bring my own friggin' coat if I need it, just like any man.

Number Five: In that vein, I have a job. By which I mean to say, if a man wants to buy me dinner, I'm all for that. If a man wants to go to dinner with me, I am completely willing and able to buy my own meal. Just because I lack a Y a chromosome does not mean I lack the ability to pay for things. (Seriously ladies, don't you ever feel like a sponge letting your boyfriend pay for you all the time*? Don't you think he'd like it if you bought him dinner every once in awhile?) This, of course, does not apply when becoming a kept woman. Him paying for everything is just part of the deal, in that case.

* Obviously, the case for spouses is a bit different, given shared finances and what-not. In my house, my mom is the one who pays for everything because she's the bill-payer. My dad just gets an allowance.

Number Six: I like televised sports well enough to participate in the activity. Unless it's basketball. Even golf is better than basketball.

Number Seven: Parents love me. What's that saying about a lady on the streets and a... well, you get the idea.

Number Eight: I'm not insane. Especially for a girl, I'm rather appropriately mentally balanced. I do not get mad for no reason. And if I am mad, I will gladly share with you the reason why if you ask. I do not cry for no reason. In fact, I don't really cry that often at all. My little sister likes to tease me about my older sister's wedding. 'I was bawling my eyes out, and Evelyn just let one, perfect, elegant tear run down her face.' What can I say? I like to keep it classy.

Number Nine: I like to make other people happy. Naturally, I like it when other people want to make me happy, too; but there is just something so satisfying about putting a smile on another person's face.

Number Ten: I am fantastic at snuggling.