Happy Holidays

Heedless of the Wind and Weather

A kind (and hardy) soul took video of the Chicago Chamber Choir's caroling stint at Millennium Park last Friday (in 16-degree weather -- fun!). Check it out. I'm in the front row, third from the left.

Prop 8: The Musical

Seen everywhere:

Yes We Can

And yes we DID.

In preparation for tonight's election-watching marathon, I printed out a map of the United States that we could color in with blue or red as each state was decided. I got out red and blue colored pencils, and for a while the twins would happily color away at the states I pointed to, blue for Pennsylvania, red for South Carolina, and so on.

But soon they became bored with their color choices. While my back was turned, they grabbed a new color and filled in the rest of the map without my interference. Their chosen color? Purple.

Like President-Elect Obama, Evie and Sophie would like to remind us that we are one nation, one people, one United States of America.

Vote!

We took advantage of early voting last week, so we're done. Wondering who the girls decided to vote for?

Boo!

Happy Halloween!

The Endorsement

Pay particular attention to what General Powell has to say about Muslims in the United States. Finally, a powerful figure in American politics says what badly, badly needed to be said.

Choosing to Read

"[T]here's lots of ways to be entertained, and a good many of them are more gratifying and appealing, at least at first, than sitting down and reading a book. Therefore, if you choose to read a book today, it's not like a hundred years ago, when that was your only option. Today, when you read a book, you're making a conscious decision not to play a video game, not to surf the web, not to watch a movie, not to turn on the TV." -- Neal Stephenson

If you're in a reading mood, pick up Anathem.

The Latest Cake

Suddenly this a cake blog. All cakes, all the time!

Here's my latest attempt at cake decoration:

For Libby's second birthday, a cake to match her bedroom.

It's not perfect by any means, but I'm reasonably pleased with it. And the almond cake and raspberry buttercream frosting were pretty decent.

Cake Wreck

Oh, my. I took that fancy-dancy cake decorating class, and then I thought to myself, "Yes! I can decorate cakes! Fanciful cakes! Dramatic cakes! Cakes that defy reason and gravity!"

Well.

I have some practicing to do. You see, I've been commissioned to create Libby's second-birthday cake, and Miss Libby should be extremely glad that today's experimental cake was not for her. (It was instead for Jan, Airan's mom, who is in town for a few days and who is very kind when it comes to extremely ugly belated-birthday cakes.)

I learned a few important lessons from this little exercise. 1) There's a reason you don't see many tall, narrow birthday cakes. 2) Firm, smooth buttercream frosting makes an excellent base layer before applying your fondant. Squishy, marshmallowy frosting -- not so much.

I strategically placed cupcakes around it to draw the eye away from the cracking, lumpy, buckling fondant, but there's only so much a few cupcakes can do. (Also, I want to mention that the twins helped me place the flowers on the cupcakes, which explains why they look like they were thrown on by a couple of three-year-olds. I'm not above blaming at least some of the decoration flaws on my children.)


Fondant disaster.


Much to my amazment, the cake did not collapse when sliced. So I guess it's more structurally sound than it looks.

This is what they mean by trial and error. Stress the error. But at least it tastes good! (Whenever I watch Ace of Cakes or those wacky cake-decorating contests on the Food Network, I always wonder what the cakes taste like. Sure, they're gorgeous, but who cares what they look like if they taste like cardboard??)

Future cakes will benefit from today's setbacks. But I'm frightened to find out how many more cake wrecks I'll have to make before I get good at this.

National Punctuation Day

To observe National Punctuation Day, let me remind you of the importance of the serial comma.

Happy Birthday Heather!

Happy birthday to our favorite supplier of costume wear.

Come Again?

Suddenly, from nowhere, Evie has a stutter. I started to notice it two days ago. Yesterday, it became more pronounced. Today, it could not be ignored. Simple phrases she's said a million times now take ages to spit out. Broken-record consonants come in an endless stream while she struggles to put words and sentences together. Luckily, Evie doesn't seem to notice or care; she just plugs away at those words until they finally come out right.

Her father has a much more sensible attitude about this than I do -- he rightly asserts that this is not cause for serious concern. But my heart breaks every time it takes her ten seconds to say "I" or "D-d-d-d-d-d-don't ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-chase me, tickle monster!" (said with much giggling, which doesn't help the stutter).

I've been reading up on this. I know how to react, which is to not react. I know how to model calm, slow, unhurried speech patterns for her, which gives me a chance to channel my inner Mr. Rogers. I know to give her my undivided attention when she speaks to me so she doesn't feel like she's fighting both my ears and her tongue. And I think I'm doing these things.

But I know full well that I haven't been a shining example up until now. It's taken this little episode to shine a light on the fact that I usually listen to the girls with half an ear, if that. I generally tear through words as quickly as I can spit them out -- time is precious, people! Let's not waste it with casual conversation. Until today, I've been doing a bang-up job of teaching the girls that speech is for quick communication -- get those words out as fast as you can and hope someone is listening. And good luck.

Those of you who are familiar with my parenting style won't be surprised to learn that this is yet another opportunity for me to feel a great deal of guilt about what a terrible mom I am, forcing my poor child to stutter just to get me to pay attention to her. And no, I don't really think I'm a terrible mom (room for improvement, sure, but not terrible). But I do think I've contributed to this sudden bout of stuttering.

I want to wallow in my remorse for a while, reflecting on my many parenting flaws and analyzing the many ways I could improve my communication skills. But now is the time for positive action. I'm going to be the best, calmest, least rushed speaker on the block. And I'm going to stop making such a big deal about this. If Evie doesn't care, why should I?

Yarrrr, Mateys

It's the most wonderful time of the year!

Mother Knows Best

My mom tells it like it is.

Generation to Generation

Rehearsals are underway for the Chicago Chamber Choir's fall concert series, Generation to Generation: Songs of the Jewish People. I'm very excited about the music for this concert, including Leonard Bernstein's Chichester Psalms. If you're in the Chicago area, put these dates on your calendar:

Saturday, November 15th, 7:30 pm
at the Music Institute of Chicago in Evanston

Sunday, November 16th, 3:00 pm
Chicago Sinai Congregation in Chicago

The Comment That Was Too Hot for Annie

Annie's trigger finger is quick on the "Delete Comment" button today! I don't want to start any blog warfare, but I do want to post the offending comment for all to see:

Come on, Annie! A reporter asks you what you expect from Sarah Palin, and instead of talking about issues you make predictions about her outfit?? I'm not trying to be snarky here when I say that this is exactly the problem with Sarah Palin and her many fans. I don't care what she's wearing! I do want to know whether she repeated her lie about the Bridge to Nowhere AGAIN.

Posted September 16, 2008 10:56 AM

Your cakes, let me decorate them.

I had a totally rockin' time at cake-decorating class this week. Does anyone need a cake for an upcoming wedding? Birthday? Christening? Bar mitzvah? If so, I've got you covered. (That is, if you want to be covered in fondant. Because I can do that. Oh, yes. I can.)

Below, find a series of photos from my cake-decorating adventures.

This is most of what I did on day one, which was much akin to working in a sweatshop. Behold, an unfinished carnation, lots of holly berries, and four rose bases.


My workspace. See all those specialized tools? I must buy them now. MUST.


Here's a two-layer carnation (with two layers of petals on, and a third yet to come) which I unfortunately dropped and smooshed a little bit. Shhh.


Cutting out carnation petals.


Carnation petals after they've been abused by the Dresden veining tool (one of the tools I must now possess).


Two one-layer carnations and one (smooshed) two-layer carnation.


My first rose in progress, with just one layer of petals.


Two one-layer roses.


Rose petals cut from gum paste, before they've been ruffled to make them more lifelike.


Placing ruffled petals around a rose base.


My first finished two-layer rose.


Here's my fondant-covered styrofoam cake form. I totally rock the rolled fondant. Aw, yeah.



Gum-paste flowers = easy. Gum-paste leaves = hard. And ugly. But they got prettier the next day, with help from green color dust and a high-gloss glaze.



My four roses, three with two layers and one with three layers. I'm quite pleased with them, if I do say so myself.


A whole mess of (ugly) leaves drying on foil.


Finishing the flowers with a touch of color.


I was skeptical about the ribbons, but they do add a really nice touch to the cake.


My completed flower bouquet. Seriously, would you even know they're not real? The answer is no. No, you wouldn't know.


And that's my finished cake. I bailed on a lot of the finishing ornamentation because I suuuuuuck at piping. Royal icing is not my friend. But I will practice, and with time, I will conquer. Royal icing, I'm not done with you.

Thanks for all of your wonderful birthday wishes. I had a great day. Special thanks to Heather for reminding me that my hair has always been bad -- it's not a recent phenomenon.

Happy Birthday to Me

Here we are, another 9/11. I'll be commemorating the seventh anniversary of the 9/11 attacks (oh, and the thirty-third anniversary of my birth) by attending Day 3 of Decorating for Beginners on Holiday and Special Event Cakes. Pictures and a recap to come. Anyone need a wedding cake? I have mad skillz with the gum-paste roses, friends.

Hypothetical

Let me paint a hypothetical scene for you. Let's imagine that, instead of Joe Biden, Hillary Clinton had been Obama's veep pick. In this scene we're creating, let's pretend that Chelsea Clinton is a tender 17 years old, rather than her actual 28. And in this bizzaro election world, say young Ms. Clinton is pregnant out of wedlock. Imagine, if you will, that the Clinton family has come together, along with the unborn child's father, and they've decided that the best decision is for the young couple to wed, raising their child together.

Let's imagine how the press might praise and defend the brave family in this delicate time.

Bill O'Reilly: "Teenage pregnancy is a personal matter. . . . Some Americans will judge [Hillary Clinton's] family. . . . For the sake of her and her family, we hope things calm down."

Rush Limbaugh: "I will explain why [Hillary Clinton could] accept the vice presidential nomination [with a pregnant 17-year-old daughter]. Because she's a classy lady, and she's a loving mother, and she doesn't want to saddle her 17-year-old daughter with the lifelong burden of the reason her mom didn't get to be vice president.

Kathryn Jean Lopez: "I teared up when [Hillary Clinton] talked about her beautiful daughter, who has to suffer seeing her most intimate mistake and challenge in the public eye."

OK, so my quotes are a teeny tiny bit altered. But still totally plausible, right? Right?

Fact Check

This is for all the Sarah Palin fans.

Also, here's a fantastic rebuttal to Palin's acceptance speech from the Obama campaign.

Why, oh why does the media let her get away with lying so much? Sarah Palin = big liar. Can we please call her on it for a change?

UPDATE: Another Palin fact-check, this time from the AP. Maybe the media is catching on after all.

The Things I Carry

Not too long ago, the twins and I were at the beach, which is where we've been spending much of our free time lately. I am desperate to wring every little bit of sun-shiny enjoyment I can out of the last weeks of summer, and the twins are 100% on board.

On the day in question, we were far back from the shore itself, sitting in a shady spot to dig in the sand and build fantastic structures. The sunny beach was burning hot, not really a good place to sit and play. Sophie, however, was bored with the shady sand and wanted to venture forth to the far-away water line and fill up her bucket with a bit of Lake Michigan.

When we're at the beach, I make sure everyone stays together. Either we all go to the water together or we all stay in our shady spot together. It's a big beach, and little girls don't get to venture forth on their own. So Sophie begged to go to the water, and Evie refused to abandon the shady sand pile. Frankly, I was with Evie on that one -- the sand was like molten lava on our bare feet. So I said, "No, Sophie, we're all going to stay here in the shade."

And then she said something she's never said before, but that I know I'm going to hear more and more as the girls get older: "Mom, can I go by myself?"

I could literally feel a stab of I-don't-know-what shoot through me. Independence? What is this? She actually wants me to let her wander off by herself?

I know I'm crazy overprotective of these kids. If I could, I'd carry them around always, do everything for them and shelter them from the dangerous world. I often find myself thinking back to my all-too-brief pregnancy, back when the girls really were with me all the time, and I could always keep them safe.

And that's when I start lying to myself. I love the idea of an idyllic pregnancy in which everything is happy, and mother and child(ren) are safe and content. But in my case, that's more fairy tale than fond remembrance.

I had a rough pregnancy, all six months of it. Never when I was pregnant did I reflect with bliss on the fact that I was protecting the girls, that they were always with me and I knew they were always safe. During the first trimester, I just didn't think of them in those terms. And later on, ultrasounds showed us that the girls weren't really as cozy and safe as they should have been (what with the broken bones in utero and the fact that my body was trying to reject them months before it should have). I was terrified for them during those weeks of hospital bedrest. While I knew that the earlier they were born, the harder their struggles would be, I also couldn't help but think that I wasn't doing them any good. They were crammed in my too-small, too-weak body, breaking bones and losing fluids. I thought they'd be better off on the outside, where they didn't have to rely on me for their well-being. Neonatologists were far better qualified to take care of them.

I'm sure this explains why I'm so obsessed with keeping them safe now -- at a time when it should have been easy for me to protect them, I couldn't get the job done. (How hard is it to just keep them in my belly? Billions of pregnant women do it!)

So my task is two-fold: 1) Recognize that I cannot keep them safe at all times, no matter how hard I try. 2) Recognize that trying to shelter them from every adversity is bad for their mental health -- and mine.

Back on the beach, I looked at proud, independent, anxious Sophie, who so longed to traverse the sand to the water's edge, and I thought, She'll be fine. "Go ahead, Sophie."

She got about five feet away before the scalding sand sent her running back. "It's too hot, " she said, and settled in at the shady sand pile, content.

Just Wanted to Mention

Grandma Barbara undergoes surgery today to remove a tumor from her jaw. We'll be thinking about Grandma Barbara and Grandpa Paul today, and we hope the surgery goes quickly and smoothly. May Grandma Barbara's recovery be swift.

This Just In: McCain Tries to Steal Disgruntled Hillary Voters

It's a gamble, and I think it's a losing gamble. Hillary voters are not going to be sucked in by a candidate who is so staunchly opposed to a woman's right to choose, who won't help us break free from our fossil fuel dependence, and who has a nasty little scandal brewing at home. Nice fake-out, Senator McCain, but I don't think this choice is going to help your ticket any.

And in closing, let me add: Obama/Biden '08!!

Michelle O In the House

Just a quick note to say: If Michelle Obama's speech before the DNC didn't make you cry with pride and hope and patriotism, you're not human.

Watch it here.

Man of the People

John McCain, who defines "rich" as someone who makes $5 million or more, doesn't know how many houses he owns. Despite his own wealth, he routinely carries hundreds of thousands of dollars in credit card debt. Is this a man we want in charge of our economy?

Change I Believe In

Friends, I believe we're witnessing the most important presidential election in a generation. The outcome will have far-reaching effects on the the future of not just our country, but the world. For the first time in my life, I feel compelled to get involved in this election however I can. Please take a look at my personal fundraising page for the candidate who can bring real change to this country.

Donate if you can, and send a message to the candidates and our fellow citizens. There's a reason Barack Obama has record-breaking numbers of individual donors -- he represents positive change for our nation.

Thanks for your time,
Kelly

But no one would hear me scream

More from the 80s Mix

So "Cum On Feel the Noize" comes up in the 80s mix, and the next thing I know Sophie's singing (in perfect tune) "Wild wild wild! Come on, feel the noise! Girls, rock your boys!"

Time for a new music mix?

Love or Money?

I just enjoyed an amusing juxtaposition in my iTunes 80s mix (on shuffle, of course): Madonna's "Material Girl" ("Only boys who save their pennies make my rainy day") followed immediately by Huey Lewis and the News singing "The Power of Love" ("You don't need money, don't take fame, don't need no credit card to ride this train"). I love it.

How could Neil Patrick Harris be Horrible?

I want to discuss Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog, specifically Act III. If you haven't watched it yet, GO NOW. It will no longer be free after midnight tomorrow.

Spoilers in comment thread.

Good Sushi and Old Friends

Well, our anniversary evening didn't go exactly as planned: I hurt my back yesterday morning, making bowling an ill-advised venture. So we skipped that portion of the festivities. Instead, we ate this for dinner:


...and we saw David Schwimmer outside our restaurant. Airan said it was like seeing an old friend. Ha!

This marriage goes to eleven.

Today, Airan and I celebrate our eleventh wedding anniversary. I believe we'll be celebrating in the traditional steel anniversary manner, with sushi and bowling.

Back to Work

What? What's that? Oh, were you looking for me? Yes, here I am. Back from vacation. Had a great time. For evidence, see the eleventy-bajillion pictures on the twins' blog.

In other news, I've been working hard on a number of things, including recovering from the vacation (that was a long, long drive), trying to work off the eleventy-bajillion roasted marshmallows I ate, and getting back into the swing of my commitment to increased creativity. In fact, my dominant arm is quite sore from all the totally creative fiction writing I did earlier today. Someday soon, friends, when I'm a super-famous and successful Novelist who moonlights as an Opera Diva, you can say you knew me when.

Leaving In a Minivan

I'm about to hit the road for a much-anticipated vacation. The bad news is that I probably won't have much to say here for the next week or so. (So what's new?) The good news is that many of the people who read this blog live along my projected path, so I'll actually see you in person instead, which is way better than reading blog posts. Right? Right. Carry on.

I just blue myself

I hope it wasn't for nothing.

Arrested Development movie in the works

(Title to this post was shamelessly stolen, but it was too good not to swipe. That's one of my favorite AD quotes.)

Two Years Later

We still miss you, Puck.

George Carlin, Rest in Peace

(Explicit content, in case I actually need to say that about a George Carlin bit.)

In Which Sophia Teaches Me to Get a Backbone

Yesterday was another in the string of lovely days we've been having lately, sunny and not too hot. The girls and I decided a trip to the nearly park was in order.

Honestly, I've been avoiding parks in favor of the beach. The problem is two-fold:

First, poor, sensitive little Evelyn is deeply distressed by every insect, every spider web, and every bit of unidentified debris that crosses her path. And there are a lot of all of those things at the park. (Why she has this reaction at the park but not at the beach, I couldn't tell you.) In addition to her fear of just about everything natural, Evelyn is terrified of most of the playground equipment. The little baby slide and toddler swings are acceptable in small quantities, but everything else is far too scary for her to consider. Instead, she wants to spend her time at the park grasping and clinging and refusing to have any fun at all.

And second, Sophia, who is at least part monkey, has no fear of anything whatsoever. Not even, say, scaling three stories of slippery ladders with no safety-net system in order to conquer the tallest, fastest, longest slide in the park. What's that? Mommy's off dealing with sad Evelyn and her fear of harmless fluff? No problem. Sophia can handle this enormous, dangerous, death-trap ladder all on her own while Mommy is distracted.

Now, I know I can be a bit of a worrywart. I do my best to insulate the girls from dangerous situations -- with good reason, given their condition. I don't think I'm overreacting when finding Sophia halfway up the tallest tower scares the spit out of me.

So you can see why we don't go to the park very often. Evelyn has no fun, and Sophia has far too much fun.

But yesterday's trip presented a whole new hazard, one I haven't encountered before: obnoxious, ill-mannered, poorly supervised little boys. These brats, upon arriving at the park with their tuned-out mothers, first decided it would be fun to shoot pretend guns at the twins. "Blam blam blam! Let's shoot these girls!"

I stood dumbfounded. What horrible, nasty little brats! I thought. What will their mothers do to curb this behavior? Nothing, of course. Mom #1 and Mom #2 sat on their bench not ten feet away and never even glanced in our direction.

I stared at the gun-slinging boys in shock and confusion while Evelyn's lower lip began to quiver. We were both of us stunned, and a little upset, and totally unable to form a response.

But not Sophia. She saw what was going on from halfway up Big Scary Tower. (Dammit! She's up there again!) At once, she reversed her course and started yelling at the brats, "You stop it! You stop that game!"

And, amazingly, the boys ran off, probably to annoy someone else for a while.

Holy cow! How did Sophia learn to stand up for others like that? Certainly not from me, her invertebrate mother who stood there slack-jawed.

I was still processing this when the nasty boys struck again. While Sophia climbed all over everything she could scale, Evelyn decided it would be fun to push an empty swing for a while. Unfortunately, the nasty boys also thought that would be fun, and they stood beside Evelyn, thrashing their swings around and calling Evelyn a baby. (Mind you, these kids were maybe four. Just old enough to think themselves worlds older and more sophisticated than a mere three-year-old baby.) Once again, Evelyn's face began to crumble, and this time I immediately intervened. (I knew by then that the absentee moms weren't going to.) I tried to calmly and quietly tell the boys that it wasn't very nice to call Evelyn a baby, and pointed out that they wouldn't like it if someone called them babies. What did I get in response? "We're big boys! She's a baby! She's a bad baby!"

Again, shock paralyzed me for a moment as I tried to work out what on earth to do. And again, Sophia came to the rescue. She swooped in from across the playground yelling, "That isn't nice! That isn't nice!" And I believe she blew a raspberry or two. And once again, the boys fled before her wrath.

It was time to leave the playground, despite earnest, tearful protestations from the girls. (Apparently, Evelyn wasn't finished being scared of the ladybugs, and Sophia wasn't finished scaring me or those wretched boys.) Lunchtime called, and I needed some time to process the morning's events.

I'm thrilled that Sophia isn't afraid to stand up for herself and others. I don't know where she learned that skill, but I'm glad she has it. I'm a little saddened to see that Evelyn hasn't yet developed the same skill, but it comforts me to know that she'll have Sophia looking out for her.

But what was my role in this scenario? A) Just how much do I get to scold these kids who aren't mine, whose parents are sitting right there doing nothing? And B) How do I want the girls to see me handle this situation? What do I want them to learn from me about handling conflict?

So far, I don't have any answers. What do you all think?

Withdrawal

No. More. Battlestar. Galactica. Until. 1Q 2009. Cannot. Go. On.

Do they make country-sized dunce caps?

Friends, I just watched Rick Shenkman on The Daily Show say that only two out of five Americans know that we have three branches of government and can name them. Please, please tell me that's not true. I can't bear to think Americans are really that stupid.

(Also, he says only one in seven can find Iraq on a map. Do we need to revisit the geography pop quiz?)

Birthday

Today is the twins' third birthday. We had a huge party with tons of friends, a pony birthday cake (Sophie) and a monster birthday cake (Evie), and presents upon presents. It was fun and amazing and overwhelming and exhausting. Mostly, it was fun.

In all the hullabaloo, it's easy to forget about the day we're celebrating, the day three years ago when my tiny, tiny girls came into the world twelve weeks before they should have. They've gone from less than three pounds each to nearly thirty pounds each, from needing help with everything from breathing to maintaining body temperature to doing everything BY MYSELF. It's an amazing metamorphosis. I'm glad to have been along for the ride.

Evie and Sophie, then:


Now:

Status Report, June 1

So when last we spoke, I vowed to actually commit myself to the creative projects I've been dreaming about but neglecting. Thanks to all of your for your support and kind words, and don't mistake me -- I have no regrets about how I've spent the last ten years, what with the awesome marriage and amazing kids, etc. And I'm sure that if I were to hold steady for the next ten years, I'd be equally content, seeing as I'd still have the awesome marriage and the amazing kids, and throw in that mind-bogglingly successful business to boot. Life is good.

But that doesn't change the fact that I want to do something more. I have creative muscles that have been atrophying for too many years. I need to stretch. I need to challenge myself. If nothing comes of it, fine. If I half-write seven novels that are all abysmally bad, that's better than not writing anything at all. I need to at least get myself into the habit of thinking creatively.

Another reason this is important to me: I want the girls to embrace creativity in their lives. I don't know why this is so important to me, but it is. And I firmly believe that kids learn from what we do, not from what we say. I can tell them to embrace creativity until I'm blue in the face. But if they see me striving to bring creativity into our lives, that's what they'll really remember and learn from. (Ditto for things like eating well, exercising regularly, treating others with kindness and respect, and, perhaps the hardest one for me, being a good driver. I am such a bad driver. I don't want them to learn that from me. But that's another post.)

So here's how I'm doing so far:

Words written: about 1,500 on two different story ideas.
Workouts: two
Rows knitted: none (Silas is never getting that blanket at this rate. Sorry, kid.)
Arias sung: none

Could be worse. But could be a lot better. I have some work to do.

Unstuck

I feel like I've been in a creative rut for months. Every project I start languishes half-done or barely begun. Most of the projects I dream up are never even started. I'm bursting with plans for things I want to accomplish, from finishing that baby blanket I started months ago to brushing up a few of my favorite arias to writing that novel I've been dreaming of (see previous post). And nothing gets done.

Friends, I vow to you, that is about to change. I'm not going to live a half-finished life, and I'm not going to look back in ten years and say, "What on Earth have I done for the last decade other than read blogs and watch TV?" That will not be me. I won't have it. And I won't let the obvious excuses (kids, work, general laziness) hold me back.

I make this resolution to you, Blogland. I will write that novel. I will sing. I will finish that baby blanket. And while I'm doing that, I will make time to go to the gym. It might take some organization and a stronger work ethic than I've ever in my entire life exhibited, but I will do it, so help me.

NaNoWriMo

I love the idea of National Novel Writing Month. I want to write a novel -- not just a novel, but the novel. The novel to end all novels. The Best Novel Ever. This has been a goal of mine since about 1986, and here I am, 20+ years later, with no novel.

So twice I've started the month of November all fired up and ready to write. I could blame my failures on a lot of things: my poor work ethic, my predisposition to distraction, my lack of interesting ideas, my overall inability to write a novel, whatever. But I choose to blame it on this: November. Who picked November as the best month for writing? It's jam-packed with holidays and holiday shopping, and it doesn't even have 31 days to its name (for maximum word-scribing time). The only worse choice would be December, or perhaps February.

So I reject November as National Novel Writing Month and say we take up a new month for that purpose. May would have been a good choice, but seeing as it's almost done, it doesn't do me much good NOW. I like the idea of July, seeing as it's coming up soon, but July is a good month for spending time outside, not cooped up in front of your computer screen agonizing over your deathless prose. The next best month: October. It's perfect. It meets my every criteria. It's a good indoor month, it has 31 days, and distractions caused by holidays are minimal.

So I hearby declare October Kelly's Novel Writing Month. Who's with me? Start planning your novel now!

Shoe Love

You all know I'm not the type to talk about fashion or shopping. Because, let's face it, I'm not qualified to do so. But I must show you my incredible new shoes, with which I am now totally in love. They are the most comfortable shoes ever made in the history of shoes. And so pretty!!

J-41 Aquarius, my new love

Cruising

I'm so excited about Dan's upcoming summer stint on board the Queen Mary 2! Dan landed himself a sweet gig as the second trumpeter for the luxury liner's summer season, so when he's not entertaining the passengers with his fine jazz stylings, he'll be enjoying the sights of England, France, Germany, and the Mediterranean. I can't even tell you in words how jealous I am. What do I have to do to get to spend the summer on a cruise ship?! Seriously.

Jazz fans, visit Dan's MySpace page and listen to his latest music tracks. That's some mighty fine playing, if you want my totally unbiased opinion.

Celebrity Endorsements: Don't think for yourself! Let Tom Hanks tell you who to vote for!

I think this is kind of awesome, because I'm fond of both Tom Hanks and Barack Obama.

Little Brother

"Those who would give up Essential Liberty to purchase a little Temporary Safety, deserve neither Liberty nor Safety."

I was fortunate enough to get my hands on an advance reading copy of Cory Doctorow's Little Brother. Despite a great deal of illness around here, I was totally sucked into this book, and I shamelessly neglected my sick children and overworked husband whenever possible to sneak in a few more pages. I managed to finish the book last night.

Little Brother gives us a blood-chilling peek into what life could be like after another major terrorist attack. In a near-future San Francisco, the Department of Homeland Security has run amok in its efforts to hunt down the bad guys. Countless innocents are caught up in the wide net cast by the DHS, and citizens are forced to choose between willingly giving up their civil right and liberties or fighting back and falling under DHS suspicion. Marcus (aka w1n5t0n aka m1k3y) is a 17-year-old techno-geek who fights back after spending several days being interrogated by the DHS for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

In addition to gripping action, this book provides an eduction: You'll learn about techno-topics such as the paradox of the false positive and how cryptography works, and you'll pick up a little leet and learn about online gaming along the way. (I'm assuming that most of my usual readers aren't too familiar with these topics. Read the book anyway, because it's awesome and you'll pick up what you need to know along the way. And if you are already familiar with these topics, you'll love the book all the more, as I did.) You'll read about Abbie Hoffman and the Yippies, Jack Kerouac, and Allan Ginsberg. This book provides a great introduction to those topics for YA readers, and should be an enjoyable refresher course for us grown-ups.

If you know a tween/teenager who likes to read smart books, get this book. If you like to read smart books, get this book. (A warning for parents: I don't know how they classify "young adult" books these days, and was somewhat surprised that a book with such strong language, sexual content, and a downright terrifying plot gets that label. But I'm an old prude who's totally forgotten what it's like to be 13. And, if I think back, I recall that I was raiding my mom's stash of non-young-adult sci-fi and fantasy books when I was in second grade, so clearly I'm out of touch with my own youth.)

And in closing, let me say: Seriously. Read this book. It is important, enlightening, entertaining -- and let's hope it's not prophetic.

Blow by Blow

Here's how my day has gone.

Wake up at 4:50 am with Evie coughing up a storm and unable to go back to sleep, as has happened for the last three mornings.

Discover that the Internet connection is still down, even though it was "fixed" yesterday after being down all day.

Start making a shopping list for the baby shower that I'm hosting here tomorrow morning.

Decided that after three days of fever and coughing, and new complaints about painful ears, Evie needs to visit the doctor. Call office and, shock of shocks, get an appointment in just 45 minutes.

Rush around getting the girls ready to go.

Go, leaving Airan here to wait for the cable guy.

Arrive at the doctor's office. Evie is getting worse by the minute. After a thorough examination reveals no ear infection but instead possibly pneumonia, a barrage of tests is ordered.

Sophie jumps and prances and dances around the exam room, begging for attention.

After getting her finger pricked for a blood test, Evie pukes all over herself, me, and Hippo.

Sophie expresses jealousy when Evie gets a pulse oximeter test and she does not. Demands to be tested next. Is disappointed.

X-rays are ordered. Seeing as I can't so much take two almost-three-year-olds to the hospital by myself to get x-rays on one of them, I call Airan, who's stuck at home with the cable guy. A rendezvous is arranged, and the girls and I rush home.

While driving, call a baby-shower-going friend and engage her services to move the venue and inform all guests of the change in plans. (Thanks, Erika!)

The cable guy packs up his gear and leaves. We have Internet service! Hooray! Too bad we have to rush off to the hospital. We pull up, Airan jumps in the van with clean clothes for Evie in hand (all that puke, you know), and we head to the hospital.

Three out of four of us wait patiently in the radiology waiting room for Evie's turn to go in for x-rays. Sophie squirms, dances, yells, and demands a trip to see the hospital lobby's waterfall. She is obliged. The waiting room gets a lot quieter.

X-rays, round one. Evie is a trooper.

More waiting. Sophie and Airan return from their exploration of the hospital. Evie shares her new, hard-won stickers with Sophie. Those girls are so sweet. Evie nods off, and Sophie plays with crayons and runs a non-stop narrative, entertaining the whole room.

X-rays, round two. Evie takes it like a champ.

In the waiting room, Sophie sure is coughing a lot.

The verdict: Pneumonia is confirmed. No hospital stay is deemed necessary at this time, but an antibiotics onslaught is ordered.

Lunch at the hospital cafeteria. Those grilled-cheese sandwiches are like crack.

Off to the pharmacy/grocery store. For the second time since February, I try to fill an antibiotics prescription for Evie, only to discover that the pharmacy is all out. I need a new pharmacy.

Off to pharmacy #2. All prescriptions are secured.

Homeward bound.

Evie's medications are administered. Sophie still has quite a cough going on. Hmm.

Evie throws up again, on herself, me, Hippo, and the couch. Hippo is now in great need of a bath. (Let's face it -- we all are.)

Who'd have thought Evie could do this while battling pneumonia?

Seriously, I'm beginning to worry about Sophie's cough. Evie is holding steady, at least, and I have high hopes that the antibiotics are going to kick in fast. Cross your fingers.

The good news today: We were away from home for hours, and the newly diaperless twins didn't have a single accident, despite trials and tribulations. Huzzah!

Disapproval

So our president now has a 69% disapproval rating. Shocking, I know. Shocking that it took 7+ years of his inept, corrupt, disastrous leadership before 69% of Americans realized what a mess he's made. I'm just surprised that number isn't even higher.

Sederific

Many thanks to Brandi, Matt, and Sara for letting us partake in their awesome and overwhelming Passover celebration. Never before in all the many (many!) seders I've been to (what, three?) have the proceedings commenced and ended with the singing of "The Matzoh Show," sung to the tune of The Muppet Show theme. Those guys really know how to throw a party. Next year in Jerusalem!

Worst Person in the World?

Rob Sherman, enough already. Monique Davis apologized. Now it's your turn--for a real apology, not just a "Dr. King said it, so I can, too" tirade. If, as you claim, you were unaware that your word choice would be offensive (hard to believe, Mr. Sherman), then how hard is it for you to say, "Gosh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize that would come across as racist. Let me extend my sincerest apology."

But no. Through your idiotic word choice and subsequent refusal to apologize, you have turned a much-needed discussion about religious tolerance into a racism controversy that just makes you look bad. Nice work, Mr. Sherman. Really nice.

Expelled Exposed

Everyone who's thinking about watching that ridiculous Expelled movie, read this: Six Things in Expelled that Ben Stein Doesn't Want You to Know...

Are “cdesign proponentsists” so scared that their claims are obviously baseless that they resort to shameless misrepresentations of the facts to bolster their cause? Or are they really just incredibly stupid? Or both? Discuss.

Size Matters

A tale of two Hondas, mine and my brother's.

Guess which one of us has trouble with Chicago street parking.

I Heart Dyson

Seen in a women's restroom at the Minneapolis-St. Paul airport: The Dyson Airblade

It is magical, a thing of wonder. I want one in my home.

Congrats, Julie and Tomkin!

Hooray for Julie and Tomkin! Their wedding ceremony yesterday was beautiful, touching, heartfelt, perfect. I was honored to be a part of it.

Much to my dismay, my camera battery died early on. But here are a couple of shots from the day.

The happy couple. More brides should wear red.


Me and Julie.


Kerri and Emma -- Emma's first wedding!

And in closing, let me just say, "Ella, ella, ella, eh, eh, eh."

Leaving on a jet plane, as long as my flight isn't canceled

I'm off to St. Paul for Julie's wedding! Think good travel thoughts for me.

Update: Monique Davis Apologizes to Sherman

Rob Sherman reports on his website that Monique Davis called him to apologize.

That took courage, but it was the right thing to do. Thank you, Representative Davis.

My Letter to Illinois State Representative Monique Davis

Representative Monique D. Davis
1234 West 95th Street
Chicago, IL 60643
773-445-9700
773-445-5755 (fax)

Dear Representative Davis,

I was shocked, saddened, and disgusted by your recent comments to Illinois citizen and activist Rob Sherman as he testified before the House State Government Administration Committee. You stated, among other things, that because Mr. Sherman is an atheist, he believes in destroying what this state is built on.

Representative Davis, I'm writing to you as a mother, an Illinois citizen, and an atheist. I love my family, I love my community, I love Illinois, and I love America. I believe in building a better future for all of our children. And I believe in teaching my children to accept that everyone in this great nation gets to choose for themselves what they believe when it comes to God. I am appalled to discover that members of my own state legislature view me as a second-class citizen.

You're right, Representative Davis: This is the Land of Lincoln, where all citizens, even our greatest historical figures, are free to reject religion. Would you have spewed the same vitriol at Abraham Lincoln?

"The Bible is not my book nor Christianity my profession. I could never give assent to the long, complicated statements of Christian dogma." -- Abraham Lincoln

The United States was founded by people who valued religious freedom. Have we as a nation strayed so far from those values that even our elected officials think it's appropriate and just to attack those who hold a different set of beliefs?

Representative Davis, you need to recognize your intolerant hate speech for what it is and apologize to Mr. Sherman and all American atheists. Your statements prove that religious discrimination is alive and well in the Illinois legislature. Please take another look at your words, see the error of your ways, and work with us to end religious discrimination.

Sincerely,

Kelly J. Wright

Friends, if you believe in freedom of religion and reject religious discrimination, and especially if you're an Illinois citizen, please send your own letter to Representative Davis. She needs to hear this message loud and clear.

Illinois State Legislator Attacks Atheists

Friends, this makes me angry.

Metalheads

Oh, dear.

Dick Dawkins In the House

I don't know whether any of you have been following the madness surrounding the wacko Expelled movie. If not, you're probably better off. Still, I thought this video was downright hilarious.

Penn was robbed.

That is all.

Vote for Penn!

Vote for Penn! Vote for Penn! Vote for Penn!

Why I won't vote for John McCain

A selection of some of the reasons why I won't vote for John McCain, in no particular order:

1. That loan:

At issue is the fine print in the loan agreement between McCain and Fidelity Bank & Trust. McCain secured the loan using his list of contributors, his promise to use that list to raise money to pay off the loan and by taking out a life insurance policy.

But the agreement also said that if McCain were to withdraw from the public financing system before the end of 2007 and then were to lose the New Hampshire primary by more than 10 percentage points, he would have had to reapply to the FEC for public matching funds and provide the bank additional collateral for the loan.

Let me see if I get this straight: John McCain promised his lenders that he'd stay in the race so he could qualify for federal matching funds, which he could then use to pay off his loan, even if it became clear that he couldn't win the nomination. And this was before he surprised the nation with a string of primary wins.

So John McCain, desperate to revitalize his ailing campaign, was willing to pledge to use your taxes and mine to pay off his debts. This from a man who championed campaign finance reform? This from the man who supposedly saw the error of his ways after being caught up in the Keating Five scandal?

2. Waterboarding flip-flop:

So much for Sen. John McCain being a man of principle who stood up to the Bush Administration and fellow Republicans. Turns out, he too is just another politician hungry for votes.

. . . McCain voted against a Senate bill that would ban waterboarding and all forms of physical interrogation methods used by the CIA against terror suspects. The Senate passed the bill 51 to 45.

But McCain was singing a different tune only a few months ago.

I don't even know what to say about this. That a man who was a prisoner of war, who was tortured by his captors, can change his stance on waterboarding after years of calling it torture and saying it shouldn't be allowed -- what does this say about him? That he's willing to say anything to woo the base and win an election?

3. Karl Rove: Aside from the fact that Karl Rove is pure evil, I'm stunned that John McCain would be willing to work with the man who used vicious lies to destroy his bid for the presidency in the 2000 primaries.

4. John Hagee: John McCain actively sought and received an endorsement from the man who said this: "Islam in general -- those who live by the Koran have a scriptural mandate to kill Christians and Jews."

And this: "I believe that New Orleans had a level of sin that was offensive to God, and they were recipients of the judgment of God for that."

And this: "As millions of people anticipate the release of the latest Harry Potter book and film, we're reminded once again of Satan's ongoing attempt to deceive and destroy. The whole purpose of the Potter books is to desensitize readers and introduce them to the occult."

Uh, what??

I have plenty of other problems with John McCain, but those are a few of the biggies. Friends, John McCain is George W. Bush 2.0, and we all know where the last seven years of that kind of leadership has landed us. More of the same? No, thanks.