KINDERGARTEN CIRCA 1971

I went to public school for Kindergarten in 1971, my only year in public school until college. Damn Catholics had a hold on me for the intervening 12 years. But in 1971, as the Vietnam War was raging on, I parted my hair on the side and fashioned it into pigtails. My siblings range from six- to 13-years older than me, so they were a bunch of hippies when I turned five and headed off to Kindergarten at Nuview Elementary.

I remember my teacher, her red coiffed hair, horn-rimmed glasses and perpetual nasal drip. She stuffed her ever-present tissue under her expandable watch band. Classy. One of my Kindergarten highlights was getting the freshly printed ditto worksheets (dude, if you don't know what ditto paper is, f-you - go to Wikipedia and look up mimeograph). Once in hand, I would flip the paper over (we didn't print two-sided because we were too busy cutting down old-growth forests) and on the great white expanse, I would draw a big circle and fill it with a peace sign. I was five. I liked the peace sign because my sister had a peace sign patch on her purse and my brothers painted one on their doorknob with black-light paint. There were peace signs drawn all over the shoe box that held our crayons on the shelf underneath the encyclopedias at our house. So yes, as a five-year-old I would proudly draw a peace sign, knowing it was cool but not sure what exactly it stood for. I just knew it was good. Peace was good. Fingers held in a V for peace. Peace signs on my ditto paper. I was young and free and happy.

And then...The Man reared his ugly head. My teacher (who was a woman, but was my first experience with "The Man") told my I couldn't draw peace signs on my worksheets anymore. She said if I wanted to draw peace signs, I would have to do it at home. So that's what I did. Teacher said, I obeyed. Life went on. The war went on.

Flash forward 36 years later: On The Girl's first day of Kindergarten, she was given a paper to draw a picture of herself. And when she printed her name to the bottom, she followed it with a heart...with a peace sign in the middle. And the war went on.

WHY I AM VOTING FOR HILARY

I am coming out of the blogging closet to share my reasons for voting for Hilary Clinton for President. The day after my 18th Birthday, I moved into the dorms at San Diego State and began my exciting life as a college coed. It was filled with freedom, fears and firsts. But the most memorable day that fall was Oct. 23, 1984. That day solidified my stance as a woman, as a feminist and put me on the road to self-awareness.

Geraldine Ferraro was the Democratic nominee for Vice President, running with Presidential nominee Walter Mondale. Geraldine Ferraro had the chance to change history, to make history, to be THE ONE. The one woman who was allowed in. The one woman who would truly represent me. That day Geraldine Ferraro stepped onto the stage at the Open Air Theatre (aka The OAT) at SDSU to a packed house. I couldn't get a seat, so I listened atop one of the grassy spots just outside. I remember getting goosebumps from the excitement of being a witness to history. I still have The Daily Aztec from the following day, tucked away with a few pictures from that first year of freedom in the dorms, some old letters and a couple college term papers. And I honestly can't recall a word of Geraldine Ferraro's speech. But I do remember that day was magical.

And despite the fact that Ronald Regan and George H.W. Bush went on to win reelection, I was witness to history. I became a woman that day in the sunshine, listening to the woman who tried to change America. She may not have changed the country, but she did change me. I became a woman. A woman who would stand by my sisters. I became a woman who would try to change my world, even if that only meant changing the topic to politics at the holiday dinnertable with my family. I became a woman who would always quietly whisper in the ear of another woman when her slip was showing, not to point out the miscue, but to ensure others would do the same for me if needed. I became a woman who helped my sisters when I could with a vote or a donation. I became a woman who believes that Hilary Clinton should be the next President of the United States of America.

So folks, before I go back into blogging hibernation, I just want to say that the reason I'm voting for Hilary Clinton is because I believe she is the best person for the job. And it's just so awesome that I get to take my wildly silly daughter into the voting booth with me when I cast my vote for a woman who is running for President. I hope she'll remember.

SINGING GEORGE MICHAEL

The Hubby is out of town and The Girl has no school on Mon. (holiday) and is off Tue. for parent teacher conferences. Again I must ask, is she eating paste? Can she hop on one foot? Does she pee on the potty? If the answers are no, yes, yes, then we are on track. So we are meeting the in-laws in Santa Barbara tomorrow so they can keep The Girl until Tues. after work. Do you see the beauty of this? Sing it with me George Michael fans:
Freedom
Freedom
Freedom
You've gotta give for what you take

I get to shop by myself at William-Sonoma and Nordstrom. I get to go into work on Sunday to get a jump on a project and NOT feel guilty. I can eat Peanut Butter Cap'n Crunch for dinner. I get to sleep diagonally in my bed and no one will pull the covers off. And that's just Sunday! On Monday night, The Hubby returns. If he plays his cards right, he'll even get a good-night kiss if he gets home before 10 p.m. Wink. And then The Child will be returned to me at 5ish on Tues. when I will be happy, rested and ready to be a mommy again. But believe me, I will be singing George Michael as soon as I make the hand off tomorrow.

AND NOW FOR WEEK FOUR, I SHALL JUGGLE CHAINSAWS

Oh, how I love PR. It allows me to write, be creative, decorate my office with pretty posters and use lovely file folders to hold stuff that isn't so pretty. I get to purchase Sharpies and composition books. Sigh, it's swell. I forgot how much joy I find in my job.

The best part about the job? The Kid is still frickin' awesome. Damn, I must have done something right while in the last 4+ years because she still loves school and thinks her after-school care by the neighbor girls is a triple-scoop of fun. Thank gawd. The Hubby is out of town for a couple days for work so I get to do drop-off this week. The Girl just keeps chanting "We get to have some GIRL time." Unfortunately, tonight's Girl Time was preempted by a car crash and fire on the South 101 that kept me parked on the freeway for 2 hours. My lovely 20 minute commute turned into a nightmare. But, tomorrow is another day and I will get to gaze at the ocean (and the road) as I head back up the coast to work. And while there I will use my Sharpie and possibly open a new pack of turquoise Post-It Notes.

I was sick as a dog and so was The Girl. Surprisingly The Hubby stayed germ-free. He would do a little happy dance every morning after I would rattle off all of my aches, pains and complaints. He's usually the sick one. I guess eating a granola bar for lunch the first week didn't really help my immune system. I even woke up with an earache. Grownups don't get earaches! By the next day it was in both ears and I couldn't hear for shit. Even after the antibiotics, everything sounded like I was underwater. It's enough to drive a girl nuts. More nuts. I'm almost back to normal. Whatever shade of normal that may be.

Being the totally-unprepared working mama, I have to go buy candy and face paint during my lunch hour tomorrow. In fact, I better sign off and go rummage through The Girl's drawers to make sure she has a black turtleneck for her cat outfit (ears & tail purchased weeks ago, thankyouverymuch). Gotta love a kid who doesn't want to wear itchy princess costumes. Peace out.

WEEK ONE IS DONE

My first week as a working mom is done. It went well, if "well" means "holy hell there is no time to clean or do other household chores except before 6:40 a.m. and I fell asleep with The Girl by 9:30 every night." I won't be blogging about work but I must say I do like having an office with a door again. It's been a while. Also, I made fast friends with the IT help dude and that right there is half the battle of corporate survival. So enough about my nameless, faceless corporate existence. Poof, it no longer exists in the blogosphere.

The Girl did unbelievably well at school last week. After her lunch she heads to the "quiet room" where the kids rest quietly (naps not required) for 30 min before she heads back outside to scream and play until the neighbor girls pick her up. She loves being with them (17 & 20 yrs. old). I told them they could run errands etc. with her if they needed to. The Girl was thrilled when they went to Oxnard to try on soccer cleats. Fun times when you're running errands with the sitter & not your mama.

The Hubby has been a champ about getting The Kid to school every day. I pack her lunch, set out her clothes and get her breakfast ready. Then he takes over the rest of the morning duty - dressing, feeding, school drop-off. The only hitch has been that he doesn't know how to style her hair. And by "style" I mean part it on the left and brush. I kept telling him to part it on HER left. To him that meant parting on HER right and sweeping the bangs to HER left. After a quick review on Thurs., all is good.

I think I will be most happy about my role as a working mother when I get my first paycheck. We have already been daydreaming about Christmas presents and other more mundane things we haven't been able to afford. The Kid flushed the toilet the other day and it made some freakish growling noise. The Hubby looked at me and said, "At least if the something breaks now, we can afford to get it fixed." It's so sexy when he talks about spending money on plumbing or replacing the eaves that have dry rot. Sexy sexy sexy.

It is officially October in Ventura. We had a couple crisp evenings followed by dry-ass Santa Anas. Today it was 79 when I came home from the grocery store. My throat feels chapped and both The Hubby & The Girl have the stuffy nose - is it a cold? is it sinuses? - thing going on. But I'm not complaining - sunny and 70-something with blue skies is a nice way to live.

I popped my sushi cherry last night with the family, V, Jonathan and V's new man-toy Hayseed. I ate pokie (or is it pokey?), raw ahi tuna in a delish marinade. Also tried a spider roll (meh). Next time I order any roll, I'll have to remember to get it made with soy paper because why the fuck would you want to eat seaweed?!?! Blech. Anywho, I will leave you with a picture of The Girl, her Auntie V and Hayseed. Good times.

I'M BAAAAAACK

I took a break from posting because I was so f-ing overwhelmed by the events of the last couple of weeks - crash, death, survival, memorial, scattering ashes, immense love for husband and lastly, new job. Throw in normal mothering duties and I was on overload. But I am back. I'm not sure what I want to write about so I'm going to list a couple things that are on my mind and if the feeling strikes, I will elaborate later.

• The time I picked up The Hubby at LAX with Tom's ashes
• The time I transferred Tom's ashes into another container for scattering
• Being on the outer circle of grief/watching the inner circle of friends grieve
• The power of my husband to do what's right - damn, I love this guy
• We must set up a family trust - thoughts on mortality
• The day my husband told me to go shopping and I came home with a new work wardrobe
• The Girl's school and after care arrangements - woo hoo, no more working in the classroom
  
• My new job starts Monday and so does the mother guilt, but the money might balance it out

HOMECOMING

The Hubby is coming home today, bringing with him the ashes of his friend and coworker. We will take Tom's ashes to his ex and his sons, then head home. This is the day my husband comes home and I am so glad.

NO NEWS IS ... I DUNNO

I haven't heard anything official on the job front. My friend on the inside assured me last week that my name was at the top of the list. I am beginning to panic.

We are at the in-laws' for a couple days while The Hubby is testing fast boats in Florida. I love not doing dishes.

In other news, I have recently become a freak about stamps. Rubber stamps. I bought some bird stamps by Martha and have ordered a bunch on eBay. I know, I know. Get a job.

THUD

The Hubby fell out of bed last night (actually early this a.m.). He landed with quite a THUD on the wood floor and I flew out of bed thinking the ceiling just crashed in on us. While I was concerned with his well-being (he bumped his head on his nightstand), I was kind of miffed, too. The crash woke me from a wonderful dream where Payton Manning & I were just about to get friendly. Sorry, Payton, it'll have to wait 'till next time. Can you tell I'm glad football season has started?

Bad wife, bad, bad wife.

PS - I posted an updated pic on my Blogger bio. The new one is from Lake Tahoe after The Girl & I built a fairy house near a stream.

THE CITY & THE LAKE (Part 1 of at least 2)

Vacation was splendid. We had the BEST weather in San Francisco - clear as a bell and warm. A rare combo in The City in the summer. My highlight was the newly renovated kids' playground in Golden Gate park. It has this enormous rope climbing structure (which will be the cause of litigation I'm sure), a man-made creek with river rocks, giant swaths of grass and sand, a cool dessert sand area with little tiny caves that only sand-eating tots can fit into, and loads of that neat squishy foam surface that makes you feel like you are on the moon. There is also an amazing concrete slide (again with the litigation) built into the hillside that has been there for years and years. The kids go down on cardboard for speed or the seat of their pants if they want the slow version (and the parents don't mind a hole in them). We met up with Hubby's college room mate Pete, his wife Kelly and their lovely three-year-old son Theo. The Girl loved Theo because (per usual) she could boss him around. We also went on the carousel that has been at the park since the 30s.

We spent time with Hubby's high school buddy Ian, his wife Andrea and seriously cute son Henry (left with The Girl). I think I am in love with Henry. If he were 40 years older and gainfully employed -- lookout. He also posed as a magician with The Girl and I plan to use that photo as blackmail when they are teens.

We stayed at the Hyatt near Union Square using Hubby's Hyatt points. They upgraded us to the Regency level (breakfast, snacks, sodas, fruit, cheap drinks). Very classy. I highly recommend it... As The Hubby said, "I could get used to being pretend rich." He was mortified that I took two bottles of water with me whenever we left the Regency Club. I told him it's how the rich STAY rich.

Parting shot...The Girl's new slippers from Chinatown.

UMMMM...DID I FORGET TO TELL YOU?

We were on vacation. Had a lovely time. I will post pics and a recap shortly, but wanted to give a big SQUEAL out to the interwebs because I had a REAL LIVE JOB INTERVIEW! I guess the planets were in alignment because as we headed for SF, a friend and former co-worker sent an email saying the PR position at her large corporation was open. She wanted to know if I was ready to get back in the game. Dude, I have never been so happy for a laptop and wireless. After scouring my sent email for a copy of my resume, I found it, sent it off and voila! had an interview scheduled for the day after we returned home. I can't explain the confidence boost I got as I reviewed a couple of my past PR plans and put together questions for the interviewers. I put on grown-up clothes and was instantly transformed from VenturaMom to VenturaMom: Awesome PR Professional. I killed in the interview. KILLED! Fingers are crossed & prayers have been murmured. Do your part please and send positive vibes out to the Universe (or whatever it is that you do) on my behalf. Thanks BloggyFriends (like the Super Friends but without the spandex)!

SMELLS LIKE ORANGE SPRAY MASKING VOMIT!

The Hubby spent his birthday barfing. He came home from work at 2 p.m. on Monday hurling. He spent today working from home, napping and complaining. I am completely incapable of sympathy right now because I am a bitch. I'm doing so much mother fucking laundry it's crazy. My Dad picked up his dog this weekend, so I am trying to rid our house of 3 weeks of dog hair. We are leaving Thurs. for our SF & Lake Tahoe vacation-palooza. So far I have packed... The Girl's underwear, socks and swimsuits. FUCK. Need more time. Need a not sick husband. Need to chill out.

Our very vague itinerary for the Bay Area part of our vacation-palooza:

Thurs.

• arrive late afternoon, head to Oakland for a visit with The Hubby's funny high school friend and her family (she drinks at playdates at the park!)
  
• Zachary's Pizzeria for dinner - best pizza ever
  
• drive to SF & check into hotel

Fri.

• tourist stuff with The Girl and The Hubby's college friend & his family; includes playground at Golden Gate Park and Ghirardelli Square for a picture of The Girl & me by the fountain (to the right she was 3 mo.)
• dinner & shopping in Chinatown - Kung Fu shoes will be purchased
  

Sat.

• playtime/eating with another of Hubby's friends & his family
  
• leave for Tahoe in the afternoon
  

Zeum looks quite amazing - has anyone been?

Then we are off to north Lake Tahoe for some R&R (reading and rum). The Hubby has promised me time alone to gamble, drink, read, shop, or whatever. We are also going to be putting The Girl in the kids camp thing at the hotel at least one afternoon/evening so we can get wild. We will probably end up napping, but at least it will be without The Girl.

GEORGE CLOONEY KISSED ME FULL ON THE MOUTH

Apparently in dreamland, George Clooney and I keep running into each other at events and tradeshows (!?). He always greets me by saying, "I was hoping I would run into you here." Then we gaze at each other, chuckle and float off to a lovely piano bar. Finally I decide that even in dreamland, running into each other isn't enough. So I tell George that this whole just-my-luck-running-into-you shtick isn't enough. It is then that he tells me he knew I would be there at every event/tradeshow. He called my office and pretended to be from each event/tradeshow to confirm my attendance. Then he reached his warm hands up to my face, held me and kissed me. Then he said he thought I didn't want a relationship. Oh, my dear sweet George, how wrong you were.

A COUPLE + A BABY = A FAMILY

The Girl will be four tomorrow. Four years ago I was a crabby miserable pregnant lady with swollen ankles. I had read all the birthing books, written a detailed birth plan, and compiled the phone list and email for the birth announcement. I had obsessed over pregnancy & the birth for seven months (when I peed on a stick I thought I was just one month along, but at my 4 month ultrasound, they said I was 5 months along, so yippee, I got to skip ahead a month). My most pressing issue was whether or not I had decent jammies to wear after the birth (FYI - comfy jammie pants/shorts and lots of camisoles with built-in bras are a must, Jo). I never really liked being pregnant. Maybe it was the fact that I had a hair-trigger gag reflex. I barfed nearly every day, but didn't feel nauseous, I just would suddenly barf. I had great fun telling The Hubby where I barfed each day - in the Target parking lot! at the corner of Seaward & Thompson! on the neighbor's lawn! in the sink (kitchen & bathroom)!

But on the morning of July 30th, I didn't care about the barfing. I woke up around 6:45 a.m. thinking I was peeing in bed. I ran to the bathroom, sat down and realized my water just broke. The day had arrived. I didn't wake The Hubby because I thought he needed his sleep. As I went back to bed, I realized the contractions my midwife described were just starting, "Picture a thick hemp rope wrapped around your waist and being twisted in the back." It was very mild so I laid in bed and waited till after 7 to wake The Hub and call the midwife. My regular midwife Denise was a scream, but alas, she wasn't on call, so we had the other one - capable and nice but not Denise. At her office (conveniently located across from the hospital) at 9 a.m. she said "Yep, the baby's coming." She also "stirred things up" aka stripped the membrane and said to wait an hour or so to go to the hospital.

We went home and I sat around calling family and friends, staying calm, but waiting for it to get worse. The Hubby's parents weren't answering (dial up! cell phone off!). I woke my sis in Maui (at a time share vacation so she will always be gone for The Girl's birthday) and packed my bag. The hospital is literally five blocks from our house. I could have walked. But we drove instead. The pain was getting more intense and I remember walking into labor and delivery with tears in my eyes saying, "I'm having my baby today." It was 11 a.m. when they put me in the room. I barfed in the sink for good luck. Then my girlfriend Gerri arrived with her camera and a CD player.

After the baby was monitored and I was settled in, we heard from the in-laws that they were on their way. I had invited them into the delivery room, along with my dad, but he had vertigo and couldn't drive. Even though it's only been four years, things are kind of fuzzy after that. There was some checking of the cooch, conversations, stronger contractions, cursing, classical music and hand holding. Then I met the most amazing man...the anesthesiologist. He ushered folks out of the room and went to work quickly giving me an epidural (part of the birth plan). I swear I felt better within one minute even though he said it could take up to 10 minutes. I professed my love to him and told him he deserved a raise. He laughed the laugh of a confident man. I just smiled a lot as The Baby made her way down the birth canal. After that, it was all lollipops and puppies. Until I had to push.

The midwife turned off the epidural drip so I could better feel the pushing. Ouch. As the epidural wears off, the midwife said feeling (read pain) would come back as if someone is opening a window, starting with a crack and eventually spreading across your lower half. My window felt like it was above my right ovary and someone was twisting and pulling it with pliers. I closed my eyes after the first push and didn't open them until I delivered. I was hot. Really sweating. My shins were sweating. There was a nursing student who was in charge of keeping a supply of cold towels in a bucket of ice water and draping them on my chest and wiping my face and head. The chant of, "Push, push, push! You're doing great! Almost there!" went on for over an hour. Her head was crowning but she would slip back after each contraction. I didn't want to cuss at the baby so I loudly said, "I WANT TO SEE MY BABY. GET MY BABY OUT. I WANT HER OUT." Obviously I needed to get motivated for the big finale so The Hubby said, "Touch her head." I gave him my hand and he put it on her furry little noggin. But even that couldn't get the baby out. The midwife said if she gave me an episiotomy, she would come out, so I said FUCK YEAH or something along those lines. With one snip, the baby literally shot out at 5:36 p.m. Then there was a flurry of activity (cord around the neck twice) and the baby went immediately to the warming table. GO WITH HER, I told the hubby. They waved an oxygen tube under her nose, made sure she was perfect (she was) and eventually put her on my chest. She rooted around and was still sort of slimy, but here she was finally. My little girl. We did this. I brought her into the world. She was held and cooed over by all. Pictures were taken. I was in love. Then she went off with The Hubby and a baby nurse to get weighed, measured, poked, and bathed. My girlfriend Vonnie arrived in time to see Nurse Ratchet holding The Baby upside down under running water and scrubbing off the goo. Ahhh, friends, family, and a brand new baby.

Somewhere along the line there was a placenta delivered and stitches given and I finally sat up and moved into a wheelchair to head upstairs to our room (much quieter than the rooms on the floor with labor & delivery and the nursery). As I was wheeled past the 7th floor classroom full of expectant parents learning about the birth process, I shouted, "It's not so bad. But get the epidural."

After The Hubby, The Baby & I settled into our room, we ate dinner from Ferraro's. Food has never tasted so good. I was ravenous. Birthing a baby is hard work. Later The Hubby went home to grab a shower and a change of clothes. It was the first night of the Ventura County Fair, so The Baby & I watched the fireworks. I told her they were to celebrate her arrival. Later that night, The Hubby didn't want to put her back in the bassinet after she woke, so he let her sleep with him in the other hospital bed. The tradition of the family bed began that first night.

And so on July 30th, a baby girl was born. A couple became a family. And life hasn't been the same since.

AND NO, THEY AREN'T BEARS EITHER

As we were heading to the Santa Barbara Zoo today, a Bare Naked Ladies song came on the radio. I was mumbling along to it when The Girl exclaimed, "You've got to do chinchilla paws with this song!" She proceeded to put her tiny hands next to her round cheeks and wave them as, presumably, a chinchilla would.

FYI chinchilla paws ARE the perfect accompaniment to BNL music.

Then she asked who sang it. "Bare Naked Ladies," I answered. "And no, they aren't naked and no, they aren't ladies," I added.

Her reply, "But are they bears?"

(photo is a chinchilla dance reinactment)

SUMMER = CRAZY

It's summer. There is no preschool. That means I am The Girl's cruise director 24/7. No time to blog. Here's a recap of the last couple weeks:

• My dad visited with his dog
• The Hubby crashed a watercraft (think jet ski) but is fine other than the $600 bill to tow it from the surf/sand back to the trailer
• The Hubby got a rockin' Toyota Tundra on a 1-year lease at his magazine. It's HUGE.
• My bro & sis-in-law surprised us last weekend with a visit.
• I made $90 at our yard sale
• V has been visiting for a week + and we've had fun doing nothing fancy, just eating, playing, chatting
• The Girl was in the Pushem Pullem Parade for the fourth consecutive year (see pics on Flickr)
• The Girl's tap dance class will be performing at the Ventura County Fair next month
• Her 4th Birthday is coming up soon - invitations go out this week!
• The Girl got two bee stings in one week
• Other highlights include crafts, the beach and parks.

VACATION, ALL I EVER WANTED

I saw the Go-Go's in concert August 28, 1982, the day after my 16th birthday. I wore a white tuxedo shirt with a pink & black stripped satin cummerbund. Man, we were cool in the 80s, weren't we?


But I digress. We are finally planning a family vacation. The last vacation we went on together was to San Francisco in the fall of 2003 to see friends, introduce The Girl (then 3 months), and go to the Bridge School benefit concert. It's time once again for The Hubby to take more than one day off at a time since he is at his maximum vacation accrual. While The Girl has gone on lots of mini-trips because of The Hubby's work (Long Beach, San Diego, San Francisco), I think she's ready for a week-long trip. I know I am.


We are going to start in Monterey and head to the aquarium the next morning. We'll stay for dinner and then drive to the Bay Area for a two- or three-night stay. We'll be able to take her to The City to see the sites and eat ice cream at Ghirardelli. We'll see our friends in SF, Oakland, and Berkeley and maybe take her to Cal and show her where I used to work.

Then we'll take a drive to Lake Tahoe. The Hubby has loads of points at the Hyatt so we're staying here for four nights free. I can't wait to do dorky family stuff in Tahoe like swim at the resort, take a hike, a sunset cruise (The Hubby & I did that in '96), rent a boat, eat ice cream every night. Tips on what to do with a kid in Tahoe are welcome.

Of course now I have to dream about it until August, but still...having this on the horizon is helping me get through the summer now that preschool is out. With a pending vacation, the beach and crafts, I will survive. FYI- Crafts are important to nearly-4-year-olds. But maybe I'll need some Malibu & Diet Coke, too. And the Go-Go's.

OMG: THE FATE OF YOUR SOUL

I took this quiz on Beliefnet because it says:

Even if YOU don't know what faith you are, Belief-O-Matic™ knows. Answer 20 questions about your concept of God, the afterlife, human nature, and more, and Belief-O-Matic™ will tell you what religion (if any) you practice...or ought to consider practicing.

Warning: Belief-O-Matic™ assumes no legal liability for the ultimate fate of your soul.

And the results are in...
My beliefs most closely align with the Unitarian Universalists (100%) which I figured. But surprisingly, bringing up the rear at #27 was the faith in which I was raised, Roman Catholic. In fact, I'm more aligned with the Orthodox Jews (20%) than Catholics (15%). Boy, those nuns that taught me for 12 years of Catholic school and the priests who said mass for the 18 years I attended sure got a failing grade when they tried to save my soul.

What's your spiritual alignment?

BABY LOVES DISCO

I won two tickets to Baby Loves Disco in LA this Sat. afternoon. How fun will that be? The Girl and me out on the town, dancing and doing silly things. Who's coming with us? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Anyone?

Thanks to Robert Mahar of the AWESOME site Mahar Drygoods who sponsored the ticket giveaway. If you haven't been to his store...dude, just go and be amazed, AMAZED, I tell you.

THE GREAT RASCAL CAPER

V & I met up for a four-day, three-night stay in Vegas. No hubby, no kid and three comped spa treatments each. Food, drinks, antacid, fun. Legendary.

A couple days before departing, I read this story about people renting motorized wheelchair/scooters (like the Rascal) in Vegas because they are too lazy to walk a million miles down The Strip to get their next gigantic frozen daiquiri in a yard-long plastic Eiffel Tower or Stratosphere replica. Lazy fucks. Grab a taxi like the rest of us or go join the Midwesterners on the sidewalk. That got me thinking (and drinking) and talking with V. We decided we needed to Rascal-jack someone. Not the healthy but lazy folks. No, we wanted to jack a person who really needed it since we would have a better chance of out running them due to disability or age. We really wanted a Rascal of our own and decided that the elevator would be our best bet for a successful Rascal-jacking. Just get in, then push the person out of the Rascal and exit on the next floor, leaving the Rascalee laying in the elevator unable to follow. Of course we would hit the button for the top floor giving us just a little more time to elude capture before the Rascalee could claw to the emergency phone. But alas, no Rascal riders ever fell prey to our deviously simple plan. But damn if we didn't laugh until Bailey's shot out of our noses every time we passed a Rascal in the casino.

Legendary. More stories to follow.