Herban Sprawl

We went out for some Mexican and ran into our neighbors from our old house. since we hadn’t seen each other in ages, we decided to sit together and catch up. I have sadly concluded that while we are still wonderfully profane and still up for a great practical joke, we are geezers.

It started with the wince when we hugged (I’m still sporting that dandy purple badge of honor on my hind end, and a few other aches have since emerged.) and then we started swapping tales. Mary Sue had had to have surgery for some kind of bizarre infection way under her finger nail. And typical for us, we all agreed it was too bad the bandage wasn’t on her bird finger…. Dave had a really scary story about his appendix, we had our stories and on it went until I’m pretty sure we’d exhausted all our body parts.

Okay, I admit it. I am not ready for this. I am not taking this aging thing with much grace and it’s not like I have much choice in the matter, either. We get old. So what. Phooey. I just wish it didn’t come with these body part issues!

BGF had another kidney stone episode. I am now calling him Rocky. There is no choice but to inject humor into it because otherwise we’d all be boohooing our hearts out. “Purple bee-hind? Hey, just put your good bra on and go on out with your head high and swishin’ yo’ tail. Jes’ watch where you walkin’, girl.” (Advice from the House Goddess is worth its weight in gold.)

Even Barney goes down the steps with care! Sad. Just plain sad.

The thing is, our caver pals have really used their bodies - rode hard and put up wet is one way to put it. They have squeezed through some teeny tiny crevices deep beneath the earth’s surface, so it isn’t like they haven’t gotten their nickels’ worth.

Meanwhile, I have the Jets and the Sharks going on in this house…there has been some kind of rumble brewing for the last hour and a half. Charlie has been stomping around complaining of some slight (Rowr, rowr, rowr, meow, yow, yow.) and I’ve heard some thumping that sounds like a stand-off between Simon and Barney (whose head has retreated into his shoulders). Sooner or later someone is going come barreling down the steps, will narrowly miss crashing into the dining room table and scratching around for traction, will shoot around the corner and scamper off.

They’re twelve. Are they gonna pay for this in the morning? Oh, well, let them find out the hard way. We‘ve had to!

Imagine that six note intro by Robert White while you read that. The wintry mix we were promised turned out to be a bust, and very nearly in a literal sense for BK and me.

First of all, we had rain, rain, and more rain. The overnight lows were enough to freeze things, but when we got up yesterday, the porch was wet and the van was clear so we figured we’d dodged the bullet.

Grouching about the Republicans as he went out the door, loaded with his toolbox (weighs a ton), a bucket full of odds and ends (because the toolbox can’t hold it all), a pouch with his iPod and docking station, and the Netflix he wanted to dump in the mail, he hit the first brick step and the whole collection went flying in every direction! Big Kitty bumped down the steps like he was on a Flexible Flyer.

Thinking he’d just stepped funny (the porch was wet, remember?), I flew out the door, shrieking, “Are you okay?” I had the presence of mind to put my little mug of coffee on the porch as I went to his rescue…well, that was the intent, anyway. My slippered foot shot up in the air and I landed on my derriere to the sound of, “Watch out!”

Stunned, Big Kitty had managed to get to the sidewalk, which was just wet, and crouched there long enough to take inventory. Simultaneously, “Are you okay?” and then we cracked up. His shoulder was in pain, my behind was going to see a bruise, but that seemed to be the extent of it. He tossed me my missing slipper and we began to regroup.

Meanwhile, the glazed brick steps were littered with a plethora of tiny screws, wirenuts, washers, rivet thingies, drill bits, drivers, and a lot of other weird looking stuff that he uses in his work. The tool box was upended, and the lid was down the walk. The bucket landed in the yard, and the iPod pouch was on the bottom step. We looked at it all, looked at each other and started collecting everything. I went for the ice melt pellets, my sneakers, a jacket and a towel. It took a while, but we got everything up, all the while fretting about what might have happened.

We’re at the age where we wake up with new aches and pains. Neither of us figured this would happen for another ten years or so, but neither of us has been particularly mindful of staying in tiptop condition. He, thinking his work kept him strong, and me, allergic to P.E., in denial. Landing on brick steps wasn’t our idea of a good time. Before bed last night, we did a final bruise check, and while I was the winner in the purple category (it’s a gift!), he had a dandy scrape on his thigh that was backed by red-turning-purple. What we both dreaded was how we’d feel this morning!

And now, the sun is shining, he aches, and my back forty is largely purple and sore. The good news is that there probably are no broken bones, no head injuries and no trips to the ER.

We boomers are like overgrown teenagers. We’re in denial about our mortality thanks to the advances of medical science. We put off dealing with problems, thinking they will go away if we work out a little, eat a little less fat and so on. Nevertheless, the clock is ticking and we growl and hiss when things don’t work the way we’re used to them working. When we get a medical scare, we shape up for a while and then backslide.

Case in point: am I religiously doing my knee exercises or shoulder exercises? Uh….. Well, see, I got this tedonitis in my left elbow and when I pick up even the lightest weight, it burns like the devil. So???? My conscience, in the form of a twenty-something swimming star, folds her arms over her chest and eyeballs me the way I used to eyeball the seventh graders. The silent message is, “That shouldn’t stop you from doing your knee exercises.”  I am dutifully plugging in my earbuds, switching on tunes and getting on the treadmill. That knee scrape is healed and there are no more excuses, even though my derriere is black and blue! After all, the sun won’t shine on it if I can help it!

Here in the Star City of the South, the grocery stores are girding their loins (!) for the after-work onslaught. We have a weather system developing, with the dire words “wintry mix” in the forecast. Here in the hills, wintry mix is reason enough to decimate the milk and bread aisles and make sure the family has enough Little Debbies to hyperactivate the entire U.S. Army.

I moved south to get out of the weather, so the fact that the town practically shuts down when it gets icky outside is rather appealing to me. I learned how to do The Teachers’ Snow Dance from the late Jackie Boeh, and for extra measure we would consult Louise Thompson’s foot and ankle. Her appendages never lied.  For me, a snow day is a good excuse to snuggle up with a heater cat and reread Pride and Prejudice!

My own arthritic joints haven’t been talking to me since I fell on my bad knee, but my sinuses are big on detecting barometric pressure, so I think we might be due. I took no chances and hied on over to the Food Lahn for provisions. (For those not syllabically challenged, it’s Food Lion.) The plan is to put on a stockpot full of beef shanks, carrots, celery, onions and such and let it do its thing until evening. At that point, I’ll strain the whole business and put the stock outside on the screened porch. The cold weather will harden any of the beef lard and I can remove it in the morning. Then I can dump in all the veggies and let it simmer all day tomorrow. If that wintry mix turns ugly, it won’t matter. The beauty of a gas stove, gas hot water heater and gas logs is that we can lose power but still take a hot bath, cook and with some ingenuity, sleep in front of the logs. I’m ready, by golly. Just have to make sure we have 4 D batteries for the lantern.

And, just to be that way, I’m also going to make a batch of Ina Garten’s apple crisp. I hope it’s a good recipe. The pork roast with the roasted spuds, carrots and fennel was pretty stellar. Come to think of it, I really haven’t had a bad recipe from Ina. Or Giada, for that matter.

Now, to add an auntly admonition to my dear readers who gab and drive: hang up and pay attention to your driving. Like the duty sergeant in Hill Street Blues used to say, “Be careful out there.”

I got an iPod Nano for Christmas. Not one of the megagiga ones, but 8 gigs is plenty of space for me I have been assured. I have entered the world of ripping my favorite CDs and putting them onto my magic little player. It’s awesome.

It seems there is also an entire culture of accessories for the toy, as well. I received a hard shell protector to put over it right off the bat. I had mixed feelings about it until I learned how easy it is to remove it. Then, after the treadmill accident, I shopped for a thing to strap it to my person. That was tough because most of the things that attach an iPod to one’s arm feel rather like a blood pressure cuff. I found one that had a little zippered pouch which meant it would keep my toy dry if I was out and around. Downside: you can’t see the front and you have to unzip and fiddle with it.

For my birthday, the kids on Morse sent me a pretty silver neoprene pouch that has a ring for one’s belt loop, or a lanyard. It’s neat – kind of like an iPod condom. Again, you have to take it completely out of the pouch, but they know I’m the Queen Klutz of the family, so the toy is protected. You can’t put one over on those kids!

In both cases, the hardshell has to come off or the thing won’t fit into the holders. There is no room for the earbuds and wires. I’m thinking that’s the next accessory: an earbud spool.

Before I acquired the holders, though, I was already thinking ahead to one of my activities where I like tunes: cooking.

I’m an apron freak. It’s a necessity. I always get a permanent stain when I fly without a net, so to speak. But understand, aprons are a fashion accessory, so I have a bunch of them. My first attempt to cook with tunes resulted in putting the iPod in the back pocket of my jeans and running the earbuds up from behind. It made sense in that I didn’t have strings dropping in the sauce, but they got tangled in the apron ties, so I was forever feeling this yanking thing going on.

I’m already planning how to sew little pockets into my aprons in places where an iPod can’t fall into the sauté pan, but I have to engineer something for cord management. Oooo. Do I feel a patent coming on? Could I possibly be the second family member to have a patent? Whatever.

The point is, the smaller the toy, the larger and more expensive the selection of accessories.

The cats have mixed feelings about this thing. The stringy cords to the earbuds are amusing, but get their paws tapped if they attempt to play with them. Furthermore, I start dancing around for no apparent reason, which sends them running for cover. (Barney dances, but he wants to hear the beat…) Oh, yeah, sing it, Marvin! How sweet it is!

It should come as no surprise to American women that when it came time to show their true colors, the men of the Republican party shined a giant moon on us. The Lily Ledbetter Fair Pay Act of 2009 came up for a vote (S. 181 for those of you who keep track) and it passed.

Here, for your consideration is the breakdown:

• Democrats (male and female) voting for the measure: ALL
• Republicans voting for the measure: ALL their women, ONE man (Arlen Spector as it happens)
• Independents voting for the measure: BOTH
• Democrats voting against the measure: NONE
• Republicans voting against the measure: ALL but one of the men
• Independents voting against the measure: NONE

John McCain voted against the measure. For those of you still nursing hurt feelings because he and his hot mama couldn’t manage a win, consider this: if he could vote against the ability for women to go after lost wages, then why did he even bother with the window dressing? Phoney baloney is what I call it. Pandering is also what I call it.

For those who aren’t aware of what this act means to women, it reverses the conservative Supreme Court’s ruling that Lily Ledbetter couldn’t sue for back wages because there was an unreasonable statute of limitations imposed on such suits. It ruled that 180 days was sufficient. As it happened, Lily didn’t find out until after the statute of limitations had expired that she had been cheated out of equal pay for an equal job for many years. This Act reversed the Supreme Court’s backward thinking. Lily is now able to go after those back wages, and believe me, no one deserves them more.

It’s been a long, hard battle for her, but she won on behalf of women everywhere in this country who are treated unequally when it comes to pay. Thank you, Lily!!!

With the exception of Sen. Spector of PA, the Senate Republican MEN tried to deny women this opportunity to achieve equity in the workplace. What it means is that in spite of their Republican neanderthal mindset, American businesses will have to take another look at their pay scales to insure equity, lest they risk a lawsuit.

I am sure that The Lion of the Senate was sick at heart that he wasn’t able to be there to cast the unanimous Democratic male vote on behalf of women, but I know he was with us in spirit. It takes a big man to acknowledge that women don’t always get a fair shake, and it takes even bigger men to stand up for what is right.

The Republican men (excepting Sen. Spector) showed us what big asses they are, and it’s the only thing that’s big about them as men.

While our nation’s brand new 44th President signed directives that established clearly defined ethics rules for his administration, the residents of the Star City learned that city staffers kept City Council in the dark with regard to money owed to it by the non-profit formerly headed by Councilman Nash.Transparency in government? Oops.
Today the paper detailed more of this news and came right to the brink of suggesting Council rethink the City Manager’s employment arrangement.

I’ve never had strong feelings about Darlene Burcham one way or the other. Her dismal address to last spring’s AAUW state convention here in the Star City however, convinced me she didn’t know who she was talking to. And I think that’s the general problem in a nutshell.

I will laud Ms. Burcham for her efforts to clean up the brownfields that are immediately visible from I581, but I have a problem with her coziness with Ed Murphy, the million dollar man from Carilion who, as an unelected official, seems to have more to say about what happens in the city than do the members of Council. Ms. Burcham keeps Council in the dark, but you can bet Ed Murphy knows the score. What’s wrong with that picture?

For one thing, Council members have, at times, chafed at Ms. Burcham’s heavy-handed dealings with city employees. They have watched the leakage of good employees and stood by, seemingly helpless. They have been rightly accused of being the dog being wagged by the tail. Many times citizens have complained that Ms. Burcham needed to be fired, and Council has resisted, saying there has to be just cause. Indeed people have run for Council with the idea they would move heaven and earth to back up the truck for her belongings. They haven’t been elected.

While the paper has a steady stream of complainers, and City Hall has a steady stream of professional Council Bashers, there has never been a groundswell of public discontent that could inspire Council to clearly define the rules of engagement with Ms. Burcham, nor have they had the moxie to flat out give her an ultimatum. I’m thinking these latest revelations should embarrass Council, Democrats all, into taking seriously our President’s position on the matter of transparency in government. Certainly this is a local issue, but charity begins in the home.

Unlike the paper, I am, for the first time, going to go on record as saying Darlene Burcham needs to be shown the door. There are no projects going on that won’t continue without her. She’s not indispensible and she has crossed the line way too many times. This latest business involving Mr. Nash’s former agency is far too serious to ignore.

It is also time to inform Dr. Murphy that if he wishes to influence city government, then he needs to run for office, not pull the strings of city employees like the little marionettes they have become.

Jimmy Carter is speaking with a white haired man, and while the commentators are trying to figure out who it is, I am shouting, “Robert Byrd, you dummies!”

The sculptures surround the people about to partake of lunch together. They will be dining with President Obama. President Obama. What a wonderful sound.

Senator Ted Kennedy, the lion of the Senate, is working the room. Bill Clinton greets the McCains - I love that guy - there is John Kerry and there is Al Gore - there is Hillary, soon to be our Secretary of State, working the room. These are the people who have made major decisions on our part, and these are the people in whom we have placed our trust. For the most part, I do not believe our trust was misplaced.

As the President makes his way through, he greets Ruth Bader Ginsberg, who hugs Mrs. Obama - and finally, Ted Kennedy, who rates a shout-out from the crowd outside the Capitol.
What a great country - the throngs of Americans reverberated with the kind of energy reserved for the stars - we have hope, and we deserve it. We can breathe again.

I’m already in front of my television, and the people thronging our nation’s capital are already animated and spreading their excitement. Our country is in love. What a wonderful feeling!

Margaret posted a YouTube video of Gene Robinson’s prayer, which I watched this morning. In that short prayer, he expressed the hopes and fears of America. It was absolutely the most heartfelt, inclusive and beautiful prayer.

We have a sense of the jubilee that is indescribable.

More later, friends. I hope you are as over the moon as I am today. It’s a great feeling! It’s a great day to be an American!

Kids, this one is for you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all your hard work. I really hope that when the cameras span the crowd tomorrow that I will see you. Wave to me, won’t you?

I am so excited - I’ve been watching bits and pieces of the pre-inauguration activities. Tomorrow Stephanie (remember me talking about her?) will get to sit with Senator Warner. That was made possible by YOU. You are the ones who made it happen for him in Virginia.

The House Goddess was here today and she’s even more pumped - like anyone would be surprised - this will be a great day for America.

Thank you, dear ones - YOU are rock stars!

Love,

Auntie