History is Written by the Victors

On Sunday afternoon, I had lunch with my friend Tom. We ended up at a little neighborhood coffeehouse, Murdoch Perk, where we discussed politics over the most decadent chocolate cheesecake I think I have ever consumed. And I've indulged in some cheesecake therapy in my day...

Part of the discussion was about the history of impeachment... but most of it was about how history looks back on former Presidents.

The impartial eye of history magnifies the accomplishments, and debacles, of former Presidential administrations, but it also takes the emotion out of the events.

Now, as some, most, or -- most likely -- all of you know, I am not George W.'s biggest fan. In fact, I have said on more than one occasion, I expect the person holding the highest seat of power in the land, nay the entire world, to be smarter than I am.

Which really isn't that great of a feat.

In fact, I am embarrassed that George W. Bush is not only our President, but that the American people elected him a second time.

But Tom argued that historians might look back with a more objective eye and see things differently. That if the war that I think is idiotic and completely unnecessary (and that Tom seems to concur on me about) takes a turn that will only underscore Bush's reasons for having a U.S. Military presence there, then the history books will be kind to him.

I protested vehemently, arguing that there is no way that Bush could pull out of the tailspin of his disastrous 8 years. But Tom returned with how FDR and Truman were vilified at the time, but look at them now...

Of which, I couldn't really dispute. Truman was practically vilified by the American public when he left office and now he is practically revered by historians... and Americans alike. What a difference a generation or two can make.

I was suddenly sweating if my animosity was misguided or, at the very least, a little too rabid. (<--Note, word use is a tip of the hat to Maggie. She'll understand.)

But then I saw this on CNN and it occurred to me that while things might yet turn out better for Bush than he will ever deserve, Katrina will forever remain a blight on his record. There is no amount of spin that can rectify turning his back on his own countryman.

None.

Now, there are those who can argue that it was Congress that didn't allocate funding to help out the devastated areas of Louisiana, Mississippi and Alabama, but my God... If the leader of the free world is not at the forefront of helping the people who elected him, then what is wrong with this picture?

My same argument stands for 9/11. I may think that Mayor Giuliani was (and still is) nuttier than a fruitcake, but who was the one person that rallied a broken and terrified country to stand tall once again? Not the President of the United States of America, whose very country was attacked. It was the Mayor of New York, who had been battling tabloid stories and genuinely bizarre behavior. Rudy Giuliani was not made Time Magazine's Person of the Year because he was a good mayor to New York. But he was the best non-elected President of the United States we could ask for.

I could also argue that the first term of George W. was not one that he was elected to, but I'll spare you that diatribe for another post.

So Katrina... A horrific natural disaster that occurred in August 2005, of which the effects are still felt by the residents in the path of the hurricane. And not just irritations and annoyances are felt by those displaced for a period of time, then tucked back into their lives. We're talking about people who are still homeless. Why has George W. Bush not moved Heaven and Earth to help these people?

This was not a rhetorical question; I really don't have an answer. Maybe you know?

I hope that he has a few answers on Thursday night when he gives his farewell address. I have no real interest in hearing his convoluted phrasing of not only the events of his administration, but his infamous ability to butcher simple English grammar. But at an estimated ten to fifteen minutes in length, I think I can stomach the speech for that short duration of time.

Then, Super Tuesday! TRUE history in the making. And unless Obama totally falls out of step with his proposed changes, I think that his highlights will cast a serious shadow on the previous administration.

And, to be completely catty, it won't take too much work.

Maybe Tom and I should rendezvous in 20, 30 years and revisit the conversation. Because at this point, it's all conjecture.

And plus, I'm always up for any reason to have chocolate cheesecake.

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To-Do List...

Okay, so I'm a little late with my first posting of the new year, but after the gluttonous gorging I had over the holidays, I got a little sleepy.

The holidays are difficult for me at times, and being unemployed this year didn't help the matter any, so I'm going to skip over the highlights of the season. Instead, I'm going to look forward to a bigger and better 2009!

And with the new year comes new resolutions. But rather than call them resolutions, I'm going to make myself a "To Do" list. If I give myself goals to achieve, rather than tasks to accomplish, I might actually be able to cross some of the items off my list...

1) Bike 100 miles this year. I know people who can crank this out in a weekend, so why can't I get it done over the course of 12 months?

2) Walk Lance at least 5 days a week. It doesn't have to be far, but it has to be done.

3) To go hand-in-hand with the walking of Lance, I need to walk at least 10 miles a month. It might not seem like much, but it's better than nothing. Which is sort of what I'm doing now.

4) If I can't afford to replace my kitchen cabinets, I need to at least paint them. I have lived with them for 34 years, but I vow by my 35th birthday that they will no longer look like faux-woodgrain Formica covered cabinets. They will be a solid neutral, like white.

5) I will rearrange the bedroom for optimal flow (pardon the pun) to get to the bathroom. Right now, Lance's dog bed sits in front of the Master bathroom door.

6) I will spend more time with my friends actually DOING things, rather than spending money. Some of the activities might require spending money, but let there be something meaningful that comes out of it. I already have two friends who want me to teach them to knit, one who wants to teach me how to purl and a few others who just want to 'create' when we get together.

7) I will write more... and hone my drawing skills. I set aside drawing for numerous reasons, but sometimes when I try to convey an idea through words, all I can do is visualize it my head -- and not be able to adequately describe what I'm thinking. I realize now that what I see in my head, I need to put down on paper.

8) I will my ass up off the couch more and live my life, rather than hide behind my laptop during my free time. It's a bad habit that I got into and I need to find a good habit to slide into instead. I am open to suggestions.

I could have been cliche and put that I will get a job (which I will) and lose weight (which I hope), but I thought if I gave myself small projects and goals, then I'd accomplish more than if I looked at the big picture, which is kind of scary.

Happy New Year to you and yours. And happy New You!


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It's the Holiday Season

I think I had a little too much holiday cheer this past weekend.

It's Tuesday and I think that I'm still recovering from my exploits. Either that, or I'm getting sick. Which I refuse to believe.

Friday night, I did something that I've been wanting to do for the longest time... I saw the light display at Tilles Park. For years I've driven past it, but never turned in. This year, Barry and I, along with Dev, Peggy and Jim, piled into Barry's Rav4 and took in the sights and sounds. While it wasn't the most comfortable of viewings, the company was truly enjoyable and us in the back seat were united in our discomfort.

I'm sure there's an adage about out of discomfort comes strength, or some other bullshit, but it's eluding me at this point.

Rather than write a review of the experience, I'm going to say that if you enjoy drive-through Christmas light displays, then it is well worth your time. I would go during the week, though, when there is less traffic. If it's not your scene, then hit something else.

I enjoyed it immensely.

Saturday, our house was Kid Central. Our friends Jason and Jennifer brought over their children so that we could give them their Christmas presents. I fretted a bit over whether the gifts would be enjoyed. I needn't have. Lots of squeals and pestering of Uncle Barry to play with them ensued. Love the sound of children's laughter... especially in this house.

A couple hours later, Cara and Todd brought over their boys. I had been warned that they would swing in, then out, because the boys had already had full days and were starting to get tired.

But when they arrived, their oldest dropped his coat on the floor and joined the melee. The youngest apparently was power napping when they arrived, for he soon woke up and joined the commotion.

For those of you not in the know, my house has a kitchen that connects to both the family room and dining room. Which are also connected. So there is a zig-zagged wall that acts as the center, making it perfect for kids to run circles through the house.

I loved it!

So did Lance, who followed the parade of children running through the house, occasionally giving kisses to whomever would stop to catch their breath.

After they left, Tom came over to watch 'The Ref' and 'Bad(der) Santa.' I had never seen 'The Ref' all the way through and Tom had never seen 'Bad Santa,' so it was new for everyone but Barry.

Popcorn, cookies and cherry limeade was consumed, but none of us can stay up late the way we used to back in the day, so we called it a night.

Sunday, Barry and I went to his sister's so he could get his hair cut... and so we could help her pick up a metal cabinet that she bought at an antique mall. And while not the most festive day of the weekend, there was certainly an air of giving that day. Plus, the desire to shop weighed heavily on my mind.

I don't know if they exist, but when in doubt, always feel free to give me a gift certificate to an antique mall.

So as I sit here on the couch, I truly think that I OD'd on the holiday spirit this weekend.

Or maybe I just want to get out of going to my brother- and sister-in-law's house on Thursday.

Naw. Couldn't be.

But thank God Cara and Todd dropped off a bottle of holiday wine on Saturday. I plan on sampling it on Christmas.


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No Child Left Behind

John Walsh is one of my heroes.

When people ask me who my hero is, I invariably think of my mother. After all, she had everything... good looks, a family, multiple college degrees... and then had to become a whole new person after she had two massive strokes. But she survived, and even thrived to a degree, when most others would become despondent over their lot in life.

But John Walsh took what could only be described as the most horrific of circumstances to befall a parent -- the abduction of a child from a store and subsequent murder of the child -- and turned into something absolutely amazing. Instead of internalizing his hate and despair, John Walsh became empowered.

I won't rehash the details of his son's story. It can be found on hundreds of thousands of websites if you don't know it. But it was 27 years ago that a hotel developer turned into an activist, co-founding the Center for Missing and Exploited Children and then hosting the show America's Most Wanted.

John Walsh did not sit idly by and let the world forget what happened to his son, nor would he allow what happened to his son to happen to other children. Not on his watch. And there are those who argue that he took away the innocence of a generation of children who have to grow up fast enough. But I must comment, as a person who does not have kids herself, that anything you can do to protect children -- even if it's one situation out of 10,000 -- is information worth knowing. Parents are not supposed to bury their children.

So for all his devotion to saving other children, John Walsh and his wife, Reve, never got closure on the case of their son, Adam. Because for 27 years it was an open case.

Until yesterday.

Now, finally, there is no more wondering if the creature responsible for such an atrocity is still walking the streets. While knowing won't bring back their boy, having closure certainly has to be bittersweet.

Rest in Peace Adam Walsh and may God bless you John and Reve Walsh.


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Whatever Happened to Saturday Night?

Saturday night I did something I don't normally do.

I not only fought back against a creep who was invading not only my personal space but also presumed that his physical attention was welcomed, but I had the best comeback ever. Movie line perfect, if I may say so myself.

And despite this shadow on my evening, I had a great time.

Let me back up.

Saturday night, I had dinner with several friends, old and new. Tom, Timmy, Matt & Laurel and I went to dinner at Sen, one of the best Thai restaurants around. After indulging in some truly delicious food and imbibing in the best martini ever, I popped away to go see Barry at an art event.

He was a participating artist and since I was downtown, I had to go see him.

It was crazy packed. It was also loud and pretentious.

I couldn't find Barry to save my life, so I went outside to text him, in the hopes that he would be able to direct me better than my aimless wandering seemed to do.

I set my purse on a column base, then proceeded to text. All of a sudden, I'm spun around. My phone goes flying (although, to be quite honest, it seems to work better now). I'm face to face with a guy at least ten years my junior... and drunk.

"What's a pretty gal doing here by herself?"

"Leave me the fuck alone," I reply, my eyes rolling. Here I am not talking to anyone, let alone making eye contact, and I'm still singled out. Fly paper for freaks, I am.

He tsks, then pulls me closer. "I think we got off on the wrong foot."

I'm internally cringing, watching his hand arc up to stroke either my cheek, my hair or -- worse -- my breast.

None of them are an option.

The fact that body parts are touching freaks me out, so I say sweetly, "Nope, the right knee." Then my right knee makes contact with his groin.

I grab my phone, then head inside.

Security asks what happened. I tell them that I was accosted, but fine. However, I'm not too sure how he is. Then I book into the crowd, determined to find Barry. And not deal with any more questions.

I do find him, crammed into a small wing, a live model wearing a skimpy bikini just a few feet from him. It's too loud to talk and to cramped for me to sit by him. Besides, he seemed to be in the drawing zone, so I kiss, chat briefly, then head back out to meet up with everyone at the Cabin Inn, over at the City Museum.

It's relaxed and laid back and just about perfect to just fall into a chair and drink a beer. I of course tell them all what happened. I'm then applauded for my line. And then we settle into our obligatory potty talk.

Who would have thought that my altercation would be overshadowed by the sad, drunk, possibly high woman at the bar?

Since my back was to her, I missed out on most of it -- thank God.

But the fact that her tag was sticking out of her t-back just HAD to be pointed out to me. And then it was proposed that someone go stick it back in for her. Now, mind you, this woman saw Matt's V8 tattoo on his forearm and mistook the engine symbol as something more astral. I said that I'd do it for ten bucks.

Tom ponied up and I was stuck. Crap.

But I squared my shoulders and went up to her, trying to gently explain the situation. She didn't understand and proceeded to get louder and louder, so I just tucked the tag back in and ran.

I think she yelled after me that she wanted me to tear off the tag, but I refused to make eye contact. Unfortunately, Tom, Matt and Tim got an eyeful. I could be wrong, but apparently she proceeded to pull her pants off.

I do know that she was escorted outside.

Barry had rolled into the madness around 10ish, but around 11:30 it was decided that breakfast food was on the menu. Barry parted ways and the rest of us headed over to Uncle Bill's on South Kingshighway.

Love me some bacon and blueberry waffles, but it was too bright to see such garish decor while having previously consumed three drinks. Since I don't drink much, I was grooving.

Plus, Uncle Bill's reminds me of illicit meetings and dirty thoughts, hence why it was way too bright in there.

But the food is cheap, fast and pretty good.

After giving Tom shit about his eating choices, because it was his health that we were out celebrating, we consumed, we became overstuffed, we all began to crash.

I desperately wanted to drive everyone back instead of Tom, but I parted ways in the parking lot and let them all get appropriately dispersed.

And while I certainly am much more low-key, homebody even, I really could do that night again.

Minus inappropriate guy and drunk woman.

Here's hoping they met up. Really think that they deserved each other.


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Turn On, Tune In... Drop Out

I just finished watching the last episode of Boston Legal. And while saying that I feel that a chapter in my life has closed seems rather silly, I do feel like my world did get a little less bright.

The numbers for the show were never fabulous, but the fans were fanatical. I count myself amongst them. It certainly was not written for the masses, but rather a small niche market – people who enjoyed intelligent television, rather than the mindless escapism that peppers the broadcast television spectrum.

It was political. It was topical. And it was irreverent. It didn’t pander to its audience; it brought the audience up to its level. It not only pushed boundaries, but thumbed its nose at the boundaries after it had already hoped them and moved into the next obstacle supposedly blocking its path.

Here’s hoping that this spin-off of a spin-off (from The Practice which came out of Ally McBeal)has yet another spin-off in store because I fully admit that I tuned in merely to see Alan Shore launch into one of his tirades – and to hear his latest lecherous comment – and to see what crazy antics Denny Crane was going to perform in the newest episode. Many great characters were introduced, then were either written out… or disappeared altogether.

In fact, one of my favorite characters – who was the perfect foil for Alan shore and perfect crony for Denny Crane – was Melvin Palmer. Truly one of the most underutilized characters from the show. If there is indeed a spin-off, I hope that he – and Christopher Rich who played him – is a featured character because, damn, if he didn’t make my sides hurt. He’s a funny guy, that’s what he is.

But my boys… Ah, two such fully developed men – I mean characters – really were a joy to watch. James Spader was at the top of his professional game on this show and William Shatner was… in the role of his life. I may have some personal biases towards Mr. Spader (whom I have crushed on since the beginning of time), but I sincerely believe that the character of Denny Crane was tailor made for William Shatner and that no one but William Shatner could have played the character. Forget Captain James T. Kirk! The name’s Denny Crane.

I must say that the capper was appropriate, if unnecessary. I certainly felt that the show had not run its course. That there were many more mountains to climb, conquer and tumble. I know I’m holding out false hope that there will be a spin-off, but David E. Kelley, the creator of Boston Legal, has two shows in development for next season. I don’t suppose saying ‘pretty please?’ will help?

I will miss my friends at Crane, Poole & Schmidt. Thanks for some of the best television I’ve seen for the past four years. Nay, for some of the best television I’ve seen. Period.

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I Love This Country!

I've posted here before about how the National Anthem makes me cry. It's not the best song, but what it represents, the history behind the lyrics, and the thought of the thousands of men and women who have fought -- and given the ultimate sacrifice -- just moves me beyond words.

And then I found this video.

I'm not sure what game this is, but the video was shot at Boston’s Fenway Park. At Disability Awareness Day at the ballpark, mentally challenged fans were given VIP treatment. One such fan was even given the honor of singing the National Anthem.

Others before him have gotten flustered singing the National Anthem before a large crowd. So did he. And as I watched in horror at what the crowd was going to do, I thought it was going to go so, so wrong.

Instead, it went so, so right.

Kinda made me not hate people quite so much.




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