Don’t mind me.  I’m just the cantankerous old lady over here.  Think of me as a female Andy Rooney complete with my own, “I don’t know about you…” rant. So here I go.

I love reading the Sunday paper.  It is an activity I look forward to all week.  Especially the Metro section of the Post.  You know what I don’t love?  I don’t love when I read articles like this one.  Essentially, the article is about how busy our lives have become these days with work, family, work, and just life in general.  We don’t have the time to wait for the cable guy or ahem change the channel for our cat to watch Animal Planet (but only the non-traumatic shows) these days. It’s sad isn’t it?

I read this and I thought, WTF?! Really?  Too busy to buy a card for your family members?  We’re too busy to scrapbook our own lives? That is what really got me. We are outsourcing our hobbies.  I’m all for a little extra help like a nanny and yes, even a personal assistant if you can afford it, but where do you draw the line?  What happens when you stop living your life and start letting other people do it for you?

I wrote about this same topic at this time last year when I went to party with a bunch of old friends.  The talk turned to how many of us have cleaning companies clean our homes. We have dog walkers and sitters. We have our kids in daycare while we work.  Our groceries are delivered to our door and our prescriptions by mail.  Anything we want can be done for us with the simple click of the mouse or a call on the phone.  This is middle class life these days.  Yet we continually feel that we don’t have enough time for ourselves.   I guess that is where the outsourcing of hobbies comes in.  How is this possible?  Why can’t we stop and realize that other people are living our lives for us? Why can’t we see how sick this makes us as a society?

I don’t claim to have all the answers but I do know this.  As a country, America has the lowest vacation rateexcept for Mexico.   We spend more time in the bathroom per year than we do on vacation.  Which isn’t saying much since my recent public restrooms visits have almost always guaranteed that I am one stall away from an important call.  That is a whole other post unto itself.  What I can say is this.  We have let ourselves get out of control.  Is this a call to action?  Perhaps.  Maybe while we are reflecting this holiday season (in our work time commute while texting) we should all think about how we can scale back not just to help our wallets but our blood pressure, ourselves and our families. 

We got the dog to walk it ourselves and love it.  Not so someone else could.  If we can’t buy birthday cards for our own kids what kind of life are we partaking in? Not much of one. We are merely viewing it from afar.  That my friends is no way to live.

Less than 100 years ago women fought for the right to vote. They fought long and hard battles staging protests and strikes in front of the White House. These women were the first people to protest in front of the White House ever. For women like Alice Paul and Lucy Burns, often described as militants, the decision to fight for the women’s right to vote was especially strong. These women endured prison time in the Occoquan Work House right here in Virginia only ten minutes from where I now live. They went on hunger strikes and the prison guards force fed them through tubes. Imprisoned three times Alice Paul would not back down. Nothing was more important to her than the women’s suffrage movement. Through her and other women’s actions, the demonstrations, parades, fires and mass meetings these women made a valid point. They were equal and deserved one of the greatest parts of being an American, the right to vote.

When I think of how these women who were part of the Congressional Union for Women’s Suffrage would react if they knew that some people, women included, would give up their right to cast a ballot for a piece of technology or and sum of money it sickens me. I feel physical pain and tears actually well up in my eyes. I want to spit fire and rain hell down on those who choose to give up their right to vote. To me it is a sacred and hard fought victory. Not voting as a woman is like pissing on these women’s graves. Their persistence and refusal to back down is part of what makes this country great but also why they won their battle. They never gave up. They never gave in no matter how arduous it was. We shouldn’t either. It makes me proud to be a woman when I think of them.

I know that today we are all very busy with our individual lives. We have families, jobs and everyday lives crammed full of things. The election is a year away. So why do we need to think about voting now? For one reason and that is to educate ourselves. To arm ourselves with the knowledge about each candidate so when it comes time to vote in the primaries and later the general election we can feel confident in our decision. If sites like BridesDecide can easily outline what each candidate stands for then why can’t we simply spend a small amount of time to pick a candidate? You probably won’t find one that believes in all the same ideals as you because most of us don’t even find that in our significant others, but just try. Take a few minutes today and do some research. Educate yourself and make the conscious decision to vote in 2008. If you aren’t registered yet NOW is the time! It takes five minutes! I swear I did it on Rock the Vote a few years back when I moved to this area. Within minutes I was a proud Virginia voter.

Vote. Do it for the future of this country. Do it so you have the right to complain when things are not to your liking, because if you refuse to cast a ballot then you have no right to argue or bitch when things go against your beliefs. Remember it is not just women in this country who fought for the right to vote. Think of the people of all races and genders all over the world who have given their life for this precious gift of choice. Let that be your guide.

Recalls are everywhere these days. You can’t turn on the radio, log onto your computer or turn on the television without hearing about a new toy recall.  It is creating quite a buzz concerning the upcoming holidays too.  However, I received a comment from a reader recently that made me take a step back.  To look beyond just the toy recalls and think about recalls of products in general.

From the reader-

“Regarding your last post on kids recalls- while I am also annoyed with the influx of recalls recently, in my mind showing the overall symptom of our society of a lack of accountability on anything, I was more disgusted with the toddler tylenol and bumpo recalls.  Mainly, because there’s nothing wrong with these products!!  Bumpo had part of their advertisement that had it being used on a kitchen counter WITH A PARENT IN DIRECT SUPERVISION, and the tylenol stuff all had very clear warnings on them that stated “under 2 yrs old, consult a doc prior to using.”  So rather than the Bumpo company stating “uh, you parents that leave your kids alone in our product on a kitchen counter are idiots” they took this great product off the shelves.  And the tylenol thing was even sillier- first they wanted to state that these medicines shouldn’t be used at all under 2yrs old, and then some fool came out and stated that they weren’t even effective for this age group!  It got our child through teething and her first colds, I definitely know that.  It truly saddens and embarrasses me that people can’t be held accountable for their idiocy- in this case, not consulting a doc, learning about the weight system for giving babies these drugs, and winging it!  Isn’t it their own damn fault that they hurt their kids?  What a mess.” 

OK. I have to agree.  The warnings are put on the products for a reason. We need to heed them.  I have felt this way for a long time that we as a society are always looking for someone else to blame for our problems and mistakes.  This is not to say I think that lead paint, toxic chemicals and date rape drugs are fine on toys. They are not!  I do not think these things should have ever happened and the companies that allow these practices are to blame.  It is simply this- beyond the toy and meat recalls that show poor practices and weak regulations, why can’t we take some responsibility for our INABILITY to act like thinking adults and individuals? 

Why do we always have to have a scapegoat?  I’m with this reader on not taking Tylenol off the shelves.  I don’t take medication myself without reading the labels. So why would I do that with my child? I don’t.  I’m responsible for her not Johnson & Johnson. I think it is high time we stop acting like a bunch of pitchfork wielding villagers and take responsibility for our actions. Start thinking.  Less impulse and more thought processes.  Read labels, think things through. Heed warnings.  They are there for a reason beyond protecting the companies CYA policy.  If we keep going the way we are our society will erode itself in a mire of more lawsuits and even more ridiculous warning labels.  By agreeing to some of these recalls and creating a frenzy are we not setting ourselves up for more mediocrity and idiocy?

What is next a warning label on soda? It would read-”Warning: Consuming this product may cause stomach gas.  Belching may occur. ”  We already have warnings on our potato chips for goodness sake.

Cross-posted from Flaming Tulle-

Recently I participated in Trash the Dress, a growing project that many photographers are taking part in. Trash the Dress is typically done the week after a wedding has taken place. The bride gets back into ‘the’ dress and well,  you know, trashes it. Photos are done in water, under water, in the dirt or just plain out in the open without a care as to what happens to the dress. There’s even been a dumpster dive. When a photographer friend of mine asked me to take part in this fun project I was eager to help out.

Not using my own dress because quite frankly I don’t think it fits, I opted instead to lay waste to some of the bridesmaids dresses that appear to be breeding in the back of my closet. Out came the sage colored two-piece, the red empire waited gown and a black gauzy number. I really wanted these dresses to go out with a bang. That red one could have been set on fire and I wouldn’t have minded. We set out on a chilly fall day for the local marina and immediately got down to business.

I climbed trees, laid on fallen logs and felt a bit like Narcissus as I glanced at my reflection in the still waters. I dropped into some foliage and rolled around a bit and even lay on a dock with some scary geese fast approaching. It was fun. OK, it was more than fun. When else can I traipse around in formal wear, full makeup, and up do and my Chuck Taylors? Seeing as I’m not a fashion model, I would venture to say, never. It was cold but it was all in the name of art right? One thing though. That green ensemble was pretty much dirt repellent. It is back in the closet waiting for take two of Trash the Dress and warmer weather. Not a speck of dirt stuck to it. Unbelievable.

What I learned from this whole this, beyond the creativity and fun of it, is that it is a perfect opportunity to de-stress. Really what could be better after all that wedding hullabaloo than getting back into that dress and letting nature have it’s way.  Maybe you just simply want to wear the dress one last time and this is a great chance to do so. That is a good enough reason for me. What I really love is that it sort of thumbs it to the whole wedding industry that builds up the idea of a wedding dress as more than a piece of fabric and some beading.  Yes, the dress probably has sentimental meaning to it.  I don’t disagree with that.  The dress is not magical though. It possesses no special powers.  They shouldn’t even cost as much as they do.  Yet the wedding industry and all its gurus would have us think that this is the ‘ultimate’ in dresses that you will wear.  Never again will a day be as special.  Nothing will ever compare to your wedding day. Nothing. 

Except maybe running a marathon, having your children born healthy, living to the ripe old age of 95 or being married for 40 plus years.  When I publish my first book, that day will undoubtably be as special as the day I donned that ivory gown.  When I see my kids graduate from high school and college those days will compare and probably outrank my wedding day. The point I’m trying to make is that not that marriage is not important. It is the marriage and not the wedding dress and all it’s accoutrements that are what it is important.  The dress is not.  The dress serves only some idealized purpose of what we are supposed to do and look like. Not what we are and work for our marriages to be. 

Participating in Trash the Dress was liberating.  I encourage all women to try it out.  If you are just going to let those formal gowns sit in your closet and not donate them then why not have a little dirty fun instead?  Guaranteed the photos will serve as a reminder to you that women shouldn’t take themselves so seriously all the time.  That the ‘ultimate dress’ is really not all it is cracked up to be and after it is all said and done it is the relationship between spouses and not brides and the wedding industry that is.
 

Cross-posted from The Mummy Chronicles-

Silly me. Just last week I told my mother it was a-ok to buy T.D. costumes but just NO DISNEY PRINCESSES. I said yes to fairies and would actually rather her wear something off a clearance rack from a Halloween store. Bottle of Ketchup? Sure. Hershey Kiss? That is fine with me. Jasmine from Aladdin? Whoa there! Wait just a minute.

I have a rule in our house about toys like this. No princesses, no divas and no queens. I don’t like commercialized bedding or clothing either. A Dora t-shirt. Not in this house. I highly discourage people buying this stuff for T.D. for many reasons. First, I think it looks cheap. Second, as if there isn’t enough advertising thrown at kids. Why continually have it in my house? I’m getting off track here. I’m really worried about the whole Princess Mentality with T.D. I guess after reading article I should be more worried about her overall wardrobe choosiness.

When I read this, “Ten-year-old Ashley Parks said she admires the Pussycat Doll look.
I like how it’s sexy,” she said.” I about puked into my coffee. At ten I had no idea what sexy was. I just knew I wanted to have long flowing hair and I would wear a turtleneck on my head with the shirt flowing down my back to make my “hair” longer. The fact that people buy and companies make (because people buy them!) padded bras, pimpwear and thongs for the under 10 set is so disturbing to me. We worry so much about the safety of our neighborhoods and have websites tracking where pedophiles live yet we buy thongs and teeny tiny skirts and cleavage revealing tops for our six year-olds? Low riders for four year-olds? Doesn’t anyone recall that a pimp is not something to aspire too?

I wore my first thong to my Sr. Prom because I knew that VPL is a fashion no-no. I wasn’t trying to be sexy. That damned thing was uncomfortable. My white little 17 year old butt hadn’t seen the sun since I was a toddler so who would deem that sexy? Besides I still wasn’t into the whole looking sexy thing even then. I wanted to be beautiful in a classic Jackie O/Grace Kelly type of way. I wanted grace, elegance, a Chanel suit and big sunglasses. Guess I was a total tool who didn’t know fashion according to these girls.

I really think the whole thing that bugs me about this tarted up toddler look is that it warps the young kids mind. Being sexy is a state of mind not just the clothes you wear. Having them dress like that so young puts so much emphasis on how a kid looks and not what they can do or be. It’s incredibly sad to me. The parents are letting a company and a child dictate so much. There are other alternatives in kids wear out there. Not to mention the small fact that these items are tasteless and setting up a whole change of bad fashion no-no’s in the years to come. A middle school class photo will look like the Saturday night holding pen at at police station full of low-class hookers.

Harsh? Maybe, but I think we need to be if kids are looking to Kimora Lee Simmons for fashion advice and parents are buying half shirts and low cut tops for five year-olds. What’s next crotchless panties and fishnets in pre-school?
Mad and sick enough yet? I thought so.

Cross-posted from The Mummy Chronicles-

I yelled in meetings. I swore at my boss and made incoherent rants during discussions at work.

I shoved someone into a cubicle wall.

Me. While not exactly mild-mannered this was not my usual demeanor.

I wanted to mow people down in parking lots for crossing intersections too slowly. I saw no reason why I couldn’t. I am not joking. I thought it was perfectly logical to ram into someone, hit them, or even possibly maim them for life all to save me a mintue of my time.

I had inexplicable never ending amounts of rage.

I wanted to live in our storage space and never come out. I thought it would be a better world if no one found me. The fetal position was never so good.

Again. Me. Not normal behavior for myself. While I’ve never been a Susie Sunshine type my dark side does recede on most days. I felt like a great White shark trolling dark, murky waters always looking for something else to attack. I felt alienated and hostile.

I could barely brush my teeth some days. I cried while I dried my hair before work everyday because no one would hear me.

I was diagnosed with Post Partum Depression (PPD). It was such a relief! I started taking the meds and went to weekly therapy sessions. I began to return to the world of more colors and less anger management. Then it swung wildly back the other way. I felt homicidal and was told I had been given too strong of a prescription. Great. My OBGYN and my therapist weren’t talking to each other and I became confused. After four months of medication and therapy I took myself off cold turkey. Not the wisest thing but I knew in my heart I had passed the brink the first time and I might not make it back the second time if I didn’t just stop taking the meds.

For me it worked. I consider myself lucky. For many women, including my own mother who spent years in a state of post-partum depression, they are not so lucky. In the late 1970’s when it was my mothers turn at this grim affliction there was no one to talk to, the stigma was burning bright and health insurance sure as hell didn’t pay for these types of “female maladies” that were all in your head. Ha. Those were some dark years my friends. For everyone involved.

I am extremely thankful and grateful to my mother for her incredible honesty to me as I grew up. I knew that PPD existed and that it might haunt me one day. She saw it in my eyes way before anyone else. That alone was one of the greatest comforts. It made it that much easier to see it and accept it. I can never thank her enough for that. It pains me to know that many women still suffer so deeply and desperately from this form of depression. That it is still so difficult to diagnose properly and treat. Something needs to be done! NOW! TODAY!

Today, October 24, is MOTHERS ACT day. I urge you to post about PPD on your blog and spread the word, arm yourself with knowledge and email, write, fax, or call your Senators to assist in passing the Mothers Act bill with the HELP bill that is
currently sitting in the Senate. The Mothers Act bill will help new moms-

Providing important education and screening on postpartum depression (PPD) that can lead to early identification and treatment. The legislation includes two grants to help health care providers educate, identify and treat PPD.
Expanding important research to improve and discover new treatments, diagnostic tools and educational materials for providers. Since the exact cause of PPD isn’t known, research continues to be the key to unlocking the mystery of this condition.

So what else do you have to do today? Oh right! A ton. I know I do too. But this really will only take a moment. Help women like Katie, a missing Rhode Island woman and mother. Instead of being sent home with her family after her release from the hospital and diagnosis of PPD she was let go in a taxi. She has now been missing for over a month. This is more than tragic. For more information and ways to help Mothers Act read here. It is your good deed for today and for the future.

To anyone who has seen the film, Fast Food Nation, you know exactly what I’m talking about.  If not, rent it but remember it is not for the faint of heart.  I’m not a vegan or vegetarian, but I do limit my intake of beef and meats all together simply because it just makes me feel better internally.  I must also confess that lately with all the meat recalls that have been on going I am a bit turned off. 

First it was Sam’s Club and Tysons to kick our summers off. Then in June another recall from out of California of 5.7 million pounds were recalled due to E.Coli.  Seriously.  It goes on too.  Last week a New Jersey company, Topps Meat, added itself to the list by recalling 21.7 million pounds.  What gives?  Why so much E.Coli.?  Well, I can’t help but think back to that line from the film, “there’s sh*t in the meat.” These are some of the largest meat recalls in recent history and a major problem for the meat processing industry.  While many news articles fail to say WHY the meat is contaminated I can only guess it is from poor and/or rushed processing techniques. 

Now the USDA is asking people to check their supplies. Open your freezers and look at the dates and the distribution names on the label.  Is E.Coli sitting in your freezer?  We as consumers have a big stake in the recalling of this contaminated food.  But here is my question. If that is the case, then how come we as consumers seem to be powerless to stop the way this food is processed?  Do we really need all this meat?  Can’t we all take a meat free day, save some energy (meat production is energy inefficient) and demand that these plants and companies watch what they are doing?  Less accidents would occur on the job and our food would presumably be safer.  Isn’t that why ‘The Jungle’ was written in 1906?  To shed light on this type of stuff.  How did we come full circle only 100 or so years later?  Am I right? 

It just seems that in this great country that we do live in we seem to be having an awful lot of recalls lately.  It’s not right and we as the American public need to figure out what is really going on.  Less Britney more checking what we are putting in our homes and mouths. 

I left my job in corporate America and made the jump to becoming a work at home mother this year.  The everyday juggle is still there but in an entirely different way.  The freedom I now possess has been a life saver.  Our family has become better due in part to this life changing decision.

It is life changing and not just for the warm fuzzy feelings of seeing my daughter up close and in action more frequently either.  It has been the change I needed to view working in an all together different way.  A new realm and way of thinking about my abilities and myself.  It was during a slightly boozy dinner date with my husband last week where I mentioned that an offer had been made for me to go back to work.  Different field, different job.  Possibly a great fit too.  Did I want it?  The verdict is still out and the details of the job itself are a bit hazy.  My husband made the offhand comment that I seem so much more grounded than before.  Calmer and decidedly more likable.  It’s true.  I like writing and working from home far more than I thought possible.  This side work I do could stem into something quite real and good. It is in essence, a job that has me writing my own ticket.  What could be better than that?  Then like a lightening bolt  it struck me.  The real reason that I like working from home.   

No one can see me. 

My meetings are all on the phone.  My work is all done via the Internet.  For me nothing could be better. I still have weekly meetings and tasks to do, but it is all done with only my typing fingers and my voice.  No face time. No hand shakes.  No touching.  My work is based solely on my abilities.  Nothing else.  And you know what?  I’m truly appreciated and seen as talented for the first time in my life.  It’s exhilerating!  It’s freeing and justified.  Before this?  Each job was like the last.  A boss that didn’t give credit where credit was due.  Co-workers who cared more about the state of my breasts and butt than the state of my spreadsheets or anything else.  My levy at work had always been my physical assests and not based on any real ounce of talent.  I hated it.  It crushed me emotionally and left me feeling empty.  No matter what I did each job was the same.  I was a pretty face and must have only that going for me.  It wasn’t my field of work because I kept changing that!  It is just the way it always seemed to be. 

Now, for the first time that isn’t the case.  I feel valued for simply the work I do and nothing else.  There is no one there to proposition me and then penalize me when I turn them down.  No one to tell me to jump out of their birthday cake to get ahead.  Oh yes, that happened.  No one asks about my sex life or what my breasts look like after breastfeeding.  I could go on.  And on.  Over the years I’ve racked up quite a few squeamish moments. 

I felt embarassed for even stating this as the reason for my new found happiness, but my spouse whole heartedly agreed. He saw it himself and heard the daily travails of each job, each shockingly perverted comment, each sexual innuendo, and each punishment if I didn’t comply. Which I never did.  I’m just not that type of woman.  I am the woman who will enforce the ethics laws on you, but that is the only thing I solicit, besides Human Resources.  I do not back down.  However, it gets old, especially when you are the only one playing by those rules. 

Eight months later becoming a work at home mother has been one of the best things I could have ever done and not just for my family.  For the first time I am evaluated on the work I actually do, on my true performance and talents, and not my cup size.  I am taken for my full value and what I can and will achieve.  That has been the real self-esteem builder way more than any of those women in the workplace workshops.