I have never bothered with politics on here, and I doubt I'll do or say much more than this little reflection, but this election is too critical. I can't help myself. Over the years politicians and pundits like to point back to Ronald Regan's persuasive question, "Are you better off now than you were four years ago?" So today I ask myself, am I better off than I was eight years ago? Well, that probably depends on how you look at it. I'm older and wiser and on the whole happy, but none of those qualities keep me fed, healthy or free. So here it is:
1. Eight years ago I taught in the lowest-paid inner city school in the county where I lived and I made twice as much annual salary as I do today.
2. I owned my own home and drove a new car; today I rent my home and drive a 10 yr. old used car.
3. My employer paid the majority of my health insurance premium and when I paid a copay the insurance paid the rest; today I pay 50% of the premium for health insurance that seldom pays for any of the services at my doctor and I have thousands of dollars in unpaid medical bills.
4. I was spending more on groceries than gasoline; now I spend more on gas than food.
5. Eight years ago I was living my American dream; now it seems life is more about survival and certainly less about living any sort of dream.
I never could have dreamed that my life could become what it now is. I never would have thought I would actually consider that I might be better off to marry a Canadian so I could be insured. (I actually checked out http://www.hookacanuck.com/ after watching Sicko.) Or that I would have ever had to apply for food stamps. I never thought I'd see my brother sent off to war (thank God he was sent home safely.) Or that I would live on unemployment. Or that I would be homeless. Yet, in the last 8 years I lived all of those things and more. Am I better off? In the ways that I expect governmental impact ABSOLUTELY NOT.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Surprise Date
I love surprises, in fact I find people who don't quite suspect. Too much of our everyday lives are mundane and predictable, but a good pleasant surprise can be a real joy. So imagine my excitement a few weeks ago when on Friday morning my boyfriend informed me that we would be going out after work. When I inquired where, so that I would know how to dress etc., he said, "It's a surprise."
A known surprise has a flavor all its own. One can't help but speculate what it might be. The only information he provided was that we would be outside and to dress accordingly. So, in true girly fashion, I packed 2 outfits so I could get input from the girls at work regarding my fashion choices. When I arrived at work the speculation began. One theory was that we would be attending something called "Fire Water" which would be taking place downtown. Apparently there would be floating fires on the river and dancers on the riverfront. Another theory was the possibility of a marriage proposal. I actually was hedging my bets on Shakespeare in the Park.
At the end of my shift the consensus regarding my attire was to wear the white cotton pants and sage green knit top. I changed clothes in the stock room and came out to my department to wait for prince charming to pick me up. I was ready within minutes and waiting. My coworkers kept passing by and commenting that I looked nice and inquiring about my plans. Like a silly teenager I kept replying that my boyfriend was picking me up for a "surprise date." After a while I started to feel foolish, fifteen minutes had passed and still no white knight. I called. "Where are you?" He replied that he was with my dog (who should have been at his house.) Why on earth would he bring the dog? "At home?" Yes, he was still at home, an hour away. So my first surprise of the evening was that my date was not on time to pick me up.
There was an apparent mix-up about my schedule and he thought he had another hour before picking me up. I told him to meet me at a nearby bar, which he did in a little over an hour. There we had a snack of lettuce wraps and the surprise date was finally underway. We hopped in his car and appeared to be heading in the direction of downtown, which is a likely direction for any of the three surprise date hypotheses, however as we passed over the river floating camp fires of some sort came into view and it became apparent that "Fire Water" was at least a part of the plan.
We had to park several blocks away and as we walked out of the parking garage it began to get a little misty. Optimistically, we continued toward the river assuming the best, but the closer we were to the destination the more people seemed to walk in our direction. Eventually we learned that the event had been cancelled due to rain and we turned back. We were still 3 or 4 blocks from the parking garage when the sky opened up and an ocean's worth of water were dumped upon us and soaked us to the bone. Now, how people react to this sort of adventure can tell you a lot about them. If you ever want to really know someone just get caught in the rain, or stranded in an airport, or broken down in a car by the side of the road. At this juncture, surprise number 2 for the night, my boyfriend did not disappoint. We laughed, we hugged, we kissed and we walked back to the car smiling.
We although happy, were now wet and hungry and so we decide to head to the Short North, which is an area, filled with bars, restaurants, galleries and other fun nightlife. Upon arrival at our new and alternate destination my now translucent white pants have turned brown and muddy on the backside due to apparent poor interior car maintenance on the part of said boyfriend. Ah, but this third (or is it the 4th) surprise cannot ruin our night, I packed 2 outfits! So I changed clothes in the parking garage and we were once again on our way.
We decided to head toward a sports bar where boyfriend had remembered eating good food at some time in the past and commenced in the spirit of adventure to order a dish called a gator ball. Now in retrospect the gator ball concept is probably as ill-advised as the southern "delicacy" known as the turduckin, but we were weary, wet and hungry and clearly not thinking at full capacity. A gator ball as described on the menu is a cheese stuffed hot pepper surrounded by chicken and then bacon, which is then fried. It is a well known and often noted characteristic of bars that these establishments are intentionally lit poorly. One could argue that it is for ambience or excitement, but often I've assumed that the reason is to hide an otherwise shabby and poorly cleaned space. I now have an alternate theory. This also disguises flaws in food preparation.
By the time the gator balls arrived I was ready to gnaw my own arm off and I took a hearty bite of this big ball of greasy wonder. Mmm...crunchy bacon and..........what is that? Fat? Chicken isn't that fatty. What could explain the texture in my mouth? I took a second bite before holding the gator ball up to a sliver of light to realize I wasn't chewing on fat at all. RAW CHICKEN! Now that is a surprise you don't get every day. I've always believed that in times of crisis it is wise to call upon experts and so I called the only public health official I know to ask the burning questions on my mind. 1. Should I make myself throw up as a preventative measure? 2. Is there any amount of alcohol that if consumed would counter the effects of salmonella poisoning? According to my well respected expert the answer to both questions was a resounding, "No." Meanwhile boyfriend was conferring with the management of our new favorite restaurant and of course they would be happy to make us something else and of course we didn't owe them a dime, and of course we got the hell out of that festering cesspool of raw meat as fast as our legs would carry us.
With a mixture of horror and humor we left in search of food because, although nauseated we were also hungry. The bouncer at our next stop raved about the food and so we paid our cover, worked through the crowd to get a booth and sat down a little relieved to notice better lighting for starters. Then our waitress approached the table and we learned that the kitchen was closed. Groan........... The surprises just keep on coming. And so we leave requesting a refund from the bouncer and head to what would finally be our last stop.
This place was packed and the kitchen was actually open. We ordered a pizza for $12.95, which upon arrival would have been a disappointment since it was only about 7 inches in diameter, but instead it was like manna from heaven for our weary little tummies. We took a picture with the ole' camera phone to commemorate our adventure and then headed home because we had all the surprises two people can ingest in one evening.
A known surprise has a flavor all its own. One can't help but speculate what it might be. The only information he provided was that we would be outside and to dress accordingly. So, in true girly fashion, I packed 2 outfits so I could get input from the girls at work regarding my fashion choices. When I arrived at work the speculation began. One theory was that we would be attending something called "Fire Water" which would be taking place downtown. Apparently there would be floating fires on the river and dancers on the riverfront. Another theory was the possibility of a marriage proposal. I actually was hedging my bets on Shakespeare in the Park.
At the end of my shift the consensus regarding my attire was to wear the white cotton pants and sage green knit top. I changed clothes in the stock room and came out to my department to wait for prince charming to pick me up. I was ready within minutes and waiting. My coworkers kept passing by and commenting that I looked nice and inquiring about my plans. Like a silly teenager I kept replying that my boyfriend was picking me up for a "surprise date." After a while I started to feel foolish, fifteen minutes had passed and still no white knight. I called. "Where are you?" He replied that he was with my dog (who should have been at his house.) Why on earth would he bring the dog? "At home?" Yes, he was still at home, an hour away. So my first surprise of the evening was that my date was not on time to pick me up.
There was an apparent mix-up about my schedule and he thought he had another hour before picking me up. I told him to meet me at a nearby bar, which he did in a little over an hour. There we had a snack of lettuce wraps and the surprise date was finally underway. We hopped in his car and appeared to be heading in the direction of downtown, which is a likely direction for any of the three surprise date hypotheses, however as we passed over the river floating camp fires of some sort came into view and it became apparent that "Fire Water" was at least a part of the plan.
We had to park several blocks away and as we walked out of the parking garage it began to get a little misty. Optimistically, we continued toward the river assuming the best, but the closer we were to the destination the more people seemed to walk in our direction. Eventually we learned that the event had been cancelled due to rain and we turned back. We were still 3 or 4 blocks from the parking garage when the sky opened up and an ocean's worth of water were dumped upon us and soaked us to the bone. Now, how people react to this sort of adventure can tell you a lot about them. If you ever want to really know someone just get caught in the rain, or stranded in an airport, or broken down in a car by the side of the road. At this juncture, surprise number 2 for the night, my boyfriend did not disappoint. We laughed, we hugged, we kissed and we walked back to the car smiling.
We although happy, were now wet and hungry and so we decide to head to the Short North, which is an area, filled with bars, restaurants, galleries and other fun nightlife. Upon arrival at our new and alternate destination my now translucent white pants have turned brown and muddy on the backside due to apparent poor interior car maintenance on the part of said boyfriend. Ah, but this third (or is it the 4th) surprise cannot ruin our night, I packed 2 outfits! So I changed clothes in the parking garage and we were once again on our way.
We decided to head toward a sports bar where boyfriend had remembered eating good food at some time in the past and commenced in the spirit of adventure to order a dish called a gator ball. Now in retrospect the gator ball concept is probably as ill-advised as the southern "delicacy" known as the turduckin, but we were weary, wet and hungry and clearly not thinking at full capacity. A gator ball as described on the menu is a cheese stuffed hot pepper surrounded by chicken and then bacon, which is then fried. It is a well known and often noted characteristic of bars that these establishments are intentionally lit poorly. One could argue that it is for ambience or excitement, but often I've assumed that the reason is to hide an otherwise shabby and poorly cleaned space. I now have an alternate theory. This also disguises flaws in food preparation.
By the time the gator balls arrived I was ready to gnaw my own arm off and I took a hearty bite of this big ball of greasy wonder. Mmm...crunchy bacon and..........what is that? Fat? Chicken isn't that fatty. What could explain the texture in my mouth? I took a second bite before holding the gator ball up to a sliver of light to realize I wasn't chewing on fat at all. RAW CHICKEN! Now that is a surprise you don't get every day. I've always believed that in times of crisis it is wise to call upon experts and so I called the only public health official I know to ask the burning questions on my mind. 1. Should I make myself throw up as a preventative measure? 2. Is there any amount of alcohol that if consumed would counter the effects of salmonella poisoning? According to my well respected expert the answer to both questions was a resounding, "No." Meanwhile boyfriend was conferring with the management of our new favorite restaurant and of course they would be happy to make us something else and of course we didn't owe them a dime, and of course we got the hell out of that festering cesspool of raw meat as fast as our legs would carry us.
With a mixture of horror and humor we left in search of food because, although nauseated we were also hungry. The bouncer at our next stop raved about the food and so we paid our cover, worked through the crowd to get a booth and sat down a little relieved to notice better lighting for starters. Then our waitress approached the table and we learned that the kitchen was closed. Groan........... The surprises just keep on coming. And so we leave requesting a refund from the bouncer and head to what would finally be our last stop.
This place was packed and the kitchen was actually open. We ordered a pizza for $12.95, which upon arrival would have been a disappointment since it was only about 7 inches in diameter, but instead it was like manna from heaven for our weary little tummies. We took a picture with the ole' camera phone to commemorate our adventure and then headed home because we had all the surprises two people can ingest in one evening.
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