Amen!

Thanks to Slummy, MK, and Scratching Pole for comments on my last Palin blog.

This editorial, "Palin's Words Raise Red Flags" by Bob Herbert in the New York Times is spot-on... if you haven't seen the latest Palin interview, husband has it posted. It might make you weep, but it will not leave any doubt in your mind about her, ugh, um, ability, to you know what I mean...to lead.

I have never seen anyone bumble around on national television the way that she does, and you KNOW that it is for no lack of preparation or money being thrown toward the cause.

The best part of the editorial? It is on the nytimes.com most popular and emailed list. Like husband said last night, all we can hope is that before the election the Republicans won't be able to completely shield her from more nationally broadcast television interviews where she is exposed for being a complete idiot. So editorials like this that describe her ineptitude are a good start.

Thoughts on Mary Rae Peterson, April 7, 1919- September 22, 2008

On Monday morning, my grandma, Mary Peterson, died. I have cried and cried, but I have also quietly rejoiced. She had outlived her mind. With a degenerative brain disease she slowly lost all the bits of her personality, her sight, her ability to speak, her ability to reason with emotion, her ability to remember things, and eventually even her ability to swallow.

I was very close to both my Grandma and Grandpa who lived in Illinois while I was growing up. My mom was a teacher which meant that we spent a lot of time staying with them in the summer, at Christmas time, and during most other vacations. My grandparents were like second parents to me, because my mom was a single parent and I was a child of a divorce at such a young age, they took extra care to spend time with me and to nurture me.

My grandma was a special woman. Nice to everyone, but also very determined. She had very soft skin, always smelled the same, hummed quietly most of the time, and ate spearmint life-savers. She had a purse always stocked for every eventuality, and was extremely thoughtful. She swam a mile a day and played golf and bridge with many of her friends. She volunteered all the time and knew everyone in the small town where she and my grandfather raised their three daughters. She was an extremely accomplished seamstress and at needlepoint.

When I was in college, I was closer to Grandma and Grandpa than home. I often would head down for a weekend surrounded by family (my aunt and uncle also ran a restaurant in town and many of my cousins live nearby in Chicago) and to find some down time. I would bring laundry and get great sleep and food. Eventually, however, I would head down to help out. I would do things my Grandma could no longer, I would go to spend time with both of them, I would drive around and do errands for them and work in their yard. It was heart breaking to leave at the end of the weekend and know how sad they were that I was leaving.

Seven years ago my Grandpa died and it was hard on everyone, especially my Grandma. She eventually had to move into a nursing home and she made the best of it, but didn't like it. I think my grieving process began for my Grandma as she began to have a harder and harder time keeping details straight and maintaining relationships. She could still remember when I was four and had the chicken pox over the fourth of July at her house, but she couldn't remember much about day to day life. She would often cry and become very confused. I could still go and sit with her, to smell her smell, feel her soft hands, and look at pictures with her, but slowly I lost the very personal connection we had had. It was painful.

In the last year I had begun praying that she would let herself die, something she had always seemed to be very frightened of even though she was a very faithful Presbyterian. Her body wouldn't let go, and she seemed a prisoner in a life that was nothing like her former vibrant life. She spent days crying, not recognizing her daughters, and lashing out at nurses. I didn't want to remember her like that, and thankfully, I don't much.

I will miss her terribly, but that is nothing new. I have missed her for a couple of years now. I will always miss going to the Y with her at 5:30 in the morning, and getting ready for bed with her, and riding my big wheel around her driveway, and shopping with her, and helping her with dinner... and about a thousand other things, mostly just talking to her.

I currently have tears streaming down my face, but I am crying for only myself and the many people whom she touched. I am cheering on the inside for her now, undoubtedly in the company of my Grandpa, my Uncle Don, and many of her sisters and brothers. She deserves a wonderful existence now.

Below is the memorial I wrote and read at her funeral on Friday. I hope you read it and it reminds you of someone you dearly love like I loved her.

My grandma, Mary Peterson, had a happy life surrounded by friends and family. Through her actions she taught many of us, some important lessons in life. I’d like to share seven lessons she taught me that tell a lot about her.

Lesson 1: Use it or lose it. Whether it was 18 holes of golf several times a week, or her early morning swims at the YMCA, Mary Peterson was an active older woman. When I was young and she would let me join her at the Y, driving through the early morning darkness and watching her talk to all of her swimming buddies, I was in awe. She taught me to be committed to exercise, to enjoy it, and always exercise in the company of friends.

Lesson 2: Waste not, want not. Grandma was a meticulous house-keeper and an ingenious user of stuff- I often remember her washing baseboards and reorganizing closets. She always had everything in boxes, perfectly labeled, often held shut with, of all things, the old waistbands of my grandfather’s underpants. I used to think this was a bit silly, but looking back I appreciate all the ways that she used what was available, and was always creative in how to re-use household items. It was my freshman year in college when she sent me a small box containing a miniature Christmas tree, and right on the box, written in permanent marker were directions about how I should store the tree in the box and take care of the small ornaments to make sure it lasted many seasons. 12 years later I still have both the box and the tree.

Lesson 3: Leave the world a little bit more beautiful than you found it. Grandma was a talented sewer and taught me the value of being able to do needlepoint and mend. I only wish more of her skill had rubbed off on me. I can still imagine her chair in the living room always with a sewing project on the table next to it, a dish full of discarded thread, and her special sewing light. I am grateful for all the fruits of her labor that she left behind. My own house, as well as all the houses of my relatives are decorated with the cross-stitching samplers she made commemorating our births, our marriages, or special accomplishments. In fact, it is from the sampler she made that hung in my house growing up that I learned the Lord’s prayer. It is very fitting then that when I did move into my own apartment, one of her gifts was a fully stocked, small sewing box that I still use today.

Lesson 4: Make friends where ever you go. Grandma always demonstrated for me that strangers were really friendly. Wherever we went in Dixon, whether it was to the department store, the Y, McDonalds, Church, or the Grocery store, Grandma talked to everyone. She had friends in all the businesses around town. She would stop and talk, and if they mentioned things that they cared about she would make sure to bring them little gifts when she visited them. When I was in town, I always felt like a celebrity because she would be so proud and excited to introduce me to all of her friends. They would always know so much about me – it was clear that she loved to spread the love and news of her family with all of her friends.

Lesson 5: Be a collector and a gift-giver. Grandma kept track of the details of people’s lives, of the special things that they liked, and she loved giving gifts. Grandma was always collecting things for people she cared about. Each year we received things that we liked from a collection: Christmas ornaments, Noritake Easter Eggs, or ceramic lighthouses that came every year for birthdays and Christmas without fail. She also collected smaller things, when I would visit at Christmas time, in the summers, or weekends from college she would have a small pile of valuable or not so valuable things waiting for me every time. Thankfully they were not often things like elastic from underpants, but instead were shampoo samples, coupons, hair bands, and other small gifts I appreciated. These small or large things have left a legacy behind her, reminding us of how much she thought about all the people in her life.

Lesson 6: Family is important. Especially towards the end of Grandma’s life it became very clear how much she loved to have visitors and family around. Her voice would light up on the phone if I mentioned I might come down. She loved it when people would gather or when she could share family news. Usually in about August she would start preparing for Christmas and thinking about how everyone would come visit… When family was together, Grandma was glowing like a house with all of its lights on. Her love for everyone, no matter what their faults or accomplishments were, was always illuminating and provided such a sense of happiness to everyone around her.

Lesson 7: The greatest lesson I learned from Grandma is the last one: enjoy the simple things in life. Although she was always ready to take a trip and explore the world on a moments notice, Mary Peterson was someone who enjoyed watching the Cubs play on television, talking to her family on the phone, and loved taking care of the people in her life. For these and many more reasons, we will miss her dearly.

Grandma surrounded by her grandchildren in 2006.

Dear village of Wasilla: We know where your idiot is

Sarah Palin makes me want to barf or maybe cry and this is why:

• She is STUPID. Did you see the Bush Doctrine Interview? Yikes.
  

• She reminds me that the Republican party is made up of a bunch of people that are anti-intellect, which scares the shit out of me when they are ONE of TWO major parties in this country. Think: 50/50 chance.

• I hate her voice.

• I hate her one liners that have no substance.

• I hate how she says the name of her interviewer over, and over, and over. Kind of like she is trying to fill up time with extra "verbage" to save herself from being asked more questions she doesn't know how to answer.
  

• I hate that she doesn't talk policy. What are we doing with a VP candidate that CANNOT talk policy?

• I hate that she catagorizes herself as a "hockey mom".

• She belittles community organizers while glorifying hockey moms.

• I hate that she wears glasses just because they make her look smart, rather than pretty.

• She lies. How many trouble-some things has the media recently dug up? Trooper-gate, Bridge to Nowhere, charging per diems from the state government while living at home? Shameless.

• She is another right-wing moral crusader- but only on topics that she deems "important" like abortion- lying and bending the rules is just fine.

• She reminds me of George W.: cute, stupid, and terribly cocky.
  

• She knows nothing about foreign policy, the economy, or health care- all things that are of vital importance to the survival of our country currently.

• Her 17 year old daughter is pregnant- maybe she should put some more energy into parenting and less energy into... her lipstick quotes.

• People like her although she has no substance.

• Most of all: she scares the living daylights out of me.
  

More Favorite Photos from the BWCA 2008

Dear Boundary Waters....

This post has been long coming and so I apologize, especially to my fellow adventurers.

Dear Boundary Waters,

It seems that every summer there is a chant from my head, no maybe my heart, that starts early and as the season goes on it gets steadily louder:

the sun on the water, stroke, stroke, stroke, the smell of the woods, clomp, clomp, clomp, the myriad of animals all around, stroke, stroke, stroke, the sound of the wind in the trees in the middle of the night, clomp, clomp, clomp, the silence that is all around, stroke, stroke, stroke, swimming in the cold water, clomp, clomp, clomp...

It continues and continues and only ends the first time I try to lift the Duluth Pack with all of our gear in it.

This year was no exception -- the pull of your glistening waters and fresh smells lured us to you once again... I have to admit, you did your fair share of playing hard to get... Strong head winds every day, lots of people our first day in, some horrible reports of bugs, bugs, and more bugs... I began lots of letters to you out loud and in my head as we were paddling into the wind, but as usual, I ended up falling in love with you all over again.

We decided on a different approach this year, and I was just waiting, waiting to decide that only some parts of your sprawling lands were nice... Not true, heading up the North Shore and up the Gunflint was a great decision and you granted us with beautiful, glorious weather the whole way through. Although our entry point was busy and our first lake had a few too many campsites on it, the tame portages and beautiful river and lake paddling was reassurance that we did like you.

Our first evening was a fabulous time of swimming, eating wild blueberry's from the island off our shores, and reading in the sun. Even the dinner of slightly charred beans and rice couldn't subdue the feeling of happiness and contentment that you spread over our campsite. (It was only Kodiak the Dog's arrival at our campsite that made me somewhat skeptical of the solace you had been offering relentlessly to me.)

The second day was exciting, we had been flexible in our plans and had not decided exactly which route we would take or where we would end up. Our wanderings brought us to a beautiful, deserted river of yours that we paddled on for much of the afternoon- beautiful cliffs, tall trees enticed us further and further. Even the portages around the rapids and smaller rivers were gorgeous... (Well, I am purposely blocking out the portage where there were two paths... thanks to SH for picking me up in the canoe).

The only point of crisis you presented us with that day were the white caps as we rounded on to Lake Alice, tired and with limited desire to paddle all the way back to campsites we had seen. Although I cursed you, your breezes weren't as bad as they appeared and we found a terrific campsite across Alice where we had good tent spots and an area of tree roots that were absolutely magical. These by the way, are the things- the unexpected beautiful surprises- Dearest Boundary Waters, that pull me to you every year.

Our third day included experiments with pancakes and dumplings, some beautiful morning paddling... ahem... against your winds... again, and some truly wonderful wildlife sightings: a group of playing otters, sunning turtles, a mink running along the shore, and the closest I have ever been to a Bald Eagle. There were the usual variety in Beav houses and lakes to explore and then we ended up back in Polly. It was a perfect afternoon- swimming in your cool waters after another sunny day followed by a quiet evening by the fire warmed up in our fleece and long-pants drinking warm beverages, reading and talking.

That night must have been the "seal the deal" package because we were honored with a cool, crisp night, a beautiful fire, a full moon glittering on the glassy lake, and a complete lack of the usual audible swarm of mosquitoes driving us to our tents. It was almost made me not want to go to sleep... You really turned on the charm.

Which I now know was just preparing us for your moody nature the following day... On our way back to the landing, your wind nearly caused me to curse you LOUDLY, the mud that I stepped into up to my thigh made me think nasty thoughts about you, and I will be honest, a few of the Surprise! This is PORTAGE! made me downright frustrated.... But in the end, I knew it was just you being you...

Our floating lunch on a picturesque little river, passing the peanut butter and discussing the Crystal Light packets with friends, helped me understand your allure... Not only is it beauty and a treat for all of our senses, but it is also valuable time to be ourselves, to spend time with our true friends, to share stories, long silences, funny memories, some butterscotch schnapps, and in the very end some Sven and Ole's Pizza (so yummy- even LEH agreed).

So, B.W. another season has come and gone. Thank you for sharing your splendor with us yet again, letting us see you in all of your lights, and most of all for remaining one of the places that I feel most content in this world.

Until next year, good-bye Dearest Boundary Waters,

Love,

KLOU

Nine months later: Success in the form of a check

Remember my car crash this last winter? "I didn't see you coming" dude, my super-helpful insurance company, and my general anger over the entire situation last December?

The crash came down to a simple chain of events, for those of you who don't remember:

Me: driving in alley.

Jeep (with Dumbass at the wheel): pulls out, coming head on towards me.

Civic and Jeep about three feet apart.

Me: Split-second decision: Hit large truck or swerve car. Instincts screaming don't hit other cars, especially when the grill is at eye-level. Swerve executed.

Me: Anti-lock brakes whirring, tires sliding on ice, garage wall brings everything to a halt.


I did not believe the accident was my fault which put me in direct opposition to dumb-ass Jeep driver, my insurance agent, and Dumbass's insurance company. Even so, I demanded that my insurance company go after Dumbass's for part of my $1000 deductible. After much investigation (part of which was to determine if Dumbass's story lie, was legit), picture taking in the alley, insurance company haggling, and finally official arbitration between the insurance companies, I got a letter in the mail yesterday, September 11:


AHHHH! The sweet feeling of success.

As it turns out, it was ruled that I was not at fault in the crash. Had Dumbass not pulled out without looking, I would have continued the remaining 20 feet down the alley and been on my merry way. I would not have had to slam on my breaks and choose between him and garages, would not have skidded on ice, or been boxed in to a no-win situation.

Vindication! $1000 to repay my deductible, along with the other $4000 the insurance company paid to fix my car, along with the rental fee my insurance company gave to me every day of the four weeks my car was in the shop, along with the money it took my insurance company to repair the garage, will all be paid by Dumbass's insurance company, and you can bet, by Dumbass himself.

I think I would feel sad for him, had Dumbass not a) pretended he had nothing to do with me crashing b) had wanted to flee the scene "since there was less than $500 worth of damage" and c) lied on record to his insurance company about the configuration of his garage to the alley, the direction he was driving, and other miscellany "facts".

And as it also turns out, nearly nine months of waiting for an outcome does nothing to smother the sweet feeling of success.

Avoiding the "un-fun" and generally restrictive in some way

You know how it is when you find something you really like, and for a while you can't really get enough of it? Well, I feel like that is what freedom has been like for me lately. I can't get enough of it- to the detriment of most other things: I don't want to blog, I don't want to email, I don't want to talk on the phone, in fact, I don't want to go to work, I don't want to go to meetings, I don't want to do yard work, and no, I don't want to do chores around the house.

This is what I have done for the last month while not wanting to do a lot other things- I have hung out with friends, I have read, I have slept (A LOT), I have watched movies, worked on projects, hung out with husband, gone for lots of runs and walks, and cooked/baked.

So now that it is nearly a full month since my moratorium on anything "un-fun", I am hoping my aversion to all of life's responsibilities and routines is going to wear off a bit. I have a lot of blog posts that I need to write, in fact, I have written many of them in my mind, I just haven't been able to sit down at the thing, the thing... that caused... SOOO much pain and write it down.

Well, I am back, I have broken the seal. There is nothing bad that happens when I sit down at the computer. Forth coming blogs: New York Times and IBS, Boundary Waters Review, Reflections on a run-away cat, and musings on my Mac. Stay tuned and sorry for the outage.