A Raid On Their Parade, Sort of

I have a friend who has never worked a day in her life, yet this interchange happened:

Friend: on top of all the things going on in my life, I’m sick of illegal immigrants taking our jobs.
Me: when did anyone ever take a job from you, illegal or not??
Friend: well, I don’t want to talk about this right now.
Me: Okay.

This is not the first time this friend feels slighted by illegal immigrants. She’s complained about the strain they cause her in taxes she has to pay too. I usually ask the same kinds of questions as above: what taxes have you ever paid? You are using free services offered by your county and yet you’ve never actually paid into the system. You’re a bit of a drain yourself. Can we ship you off?

Of course, my friend never see’s things that way; she has rights; she’s a citizen.

Whatever.

What I do know is that I pay taxes, I currently use no free services from my county or state, and no one less qualified than me has ever stolen a job I wanted.

I also know that my valuable taxes are being used right now in what seems a terrible way to crack down on illegal immigrants that are currently here, in this country. I know this may not be a popular sentiment for many, but, can we just legalize the ones who are here, make them pay into the system the same as the rest of us, and move forward?

In Bedford, MA 300 illegal immigrants were taken, dozens of kids were put into the system and foster care until its determined if they were born here or not, if they will get deported or not.

In Pottsville, IA 400 illegal workers were arrested. In a town the size of 2,300 people, suddenly 10% of the population was gone; children weren’t in school. According to this article, “it felt like a natural disaster” struck the town.

These are just two of the many stories of huge crack downs happening in large factories, farms and restaurants. (more here and here)

Here’s my problem:
All the meat production of the companies mentioned in the two articles had to shut down for a few days, then they had to start rehiring, then they had to deal with higher turnover rates (guess what? Those slaughterhouse jobs suck, smell and are hard) and then one company had to start paying people to be bussed in. BUSSED IN. Employees aren’t putting mileage or wear and tear on their cars; they get a free bus which is actually in a van with other workers en-route only to the factory.

Okay, back to the problem, these companies aren’t able to produce at the same levels, now there is less production, less availability and more expensive meats for the consumer to get.

What will this do for the myriad of consumers who INSIST on Wal-Mart prices but not Wal-Mart standards do??

I think, in my understanding of the way the USA has been shaped, it was largely on the backs of immigrants. Yah, I get it, these ones are illegal. Yah, I know, they should have gone through the proper channels in order to get here. I know. But they ARE here. Can’t we find a humanely appropriate way to incorporate them into society, have them pay taxes, raise their kids and look for a better life here, instead of scaring the crap out of them, separating them from their kids, taxing our crippled social services programs and disrupt our entire commerce system? Can’t we just move forward, healthily for all involved?

Or am I just dreaming here? Are we a land of people like my friend who just wants to stick them all on a bus and ship them back “home”?

Happy Birthday Baby

12 years ago I was the most wretched, fat, cranky pregnant woman alive. But several hours into June 6, 1996 the most beautiful baby was born to me; at least until the following year when her brother came along as a strong competitor.

This little bundle of joy was sweet, quiet, and adorable. She was all pink and bundled up. She even smelled great.

Her first year; she slept through the night at 6 weeks, ate without problems, got her first tooth at 3 months, spoke her first words at 5 months, was walking by her first birthday. At 15 months she was speaking her very first sentence: Macy’s; shopping is fun!

Again at 15 months she happily welcomed her brother into the house. She was an attentive big sister. Her favorite book when she was 1 and a half was Mike Mulligan and his Steam Shovel. She had me read it to her a hundred times. She Loved reading her books to herself, her family, her pretend friends, everyone. She had little parties with anyone who would attend, be it teddy bear or kitty cat or even a real live person.

In all of our moves we’ve made she has handled them with ease, making friends and maintaining good grades. Since moving to Connecticut, she has put down roots, volunteers in her town, cares about her peers and loves animals. She tried every sport in the book unsuccessfully until she attempted horseback riding. (My brother aptly named all of our kids Mathletes instead of athletes) A natural at the start, huge smiles especially when the pony is galloping away with her. She fears nothing, she meets every challenge head on, she is stubborn, funny, quirky, smart, kind, and God I love her.

She is amazing to me. I made her. She is mine. Yet she is her own person. She turns 12 today. She is embarassed of me and her dad, her younger brother is taller than she is, her friends like him. They giggle and make him blush. She is growing, maturing, branching out, needing freedom yet wanting safety. I don’t mind, I’ll give it happily.

Dear Sweet Baby Girl, you are doing amazing, you shine and I love you. Keep growing, keep going, I’m here cheering you on every step of the way!

Love,
Mommy

 

 

Worlds Colliding

 I just watched two of my favorite mostly famous people in the world come together to produce an amusing segment on TV. Jon Stewart hosted David Sedaris on The Daily Show. Deep sigh.

My week is complete.

http://www.thedailyshow.com/video/index.jhtml?videoId=171033&title=david-sedaris

 

Girls Girls Girls

On Friday night, me and the girls went to see Sex and the City. We had dinner and drinks before the movie. Honestly, the dinner and drinks were more fun than the movie.

We laughed and joked and talked on girlie topics throughout dinner. We talked of sex and drugs and our teen years. We ranged in age and careers and life experience yet came together in youthful common ground.

Topics such as :
sex on coke and the multi-uses of margarine, though not sanitary, thank goodness for antibiotics. First kisses and bad breath, little weenies and exes. Pot smoking, alcoholic frolic’s, friends we stabbed in the back, guys we wish we dated but didn’t due to friendships that never panned out. But the best story was of two med students who became friends only to discover they had the same boyfriend. Upon realizing there was a third, who was his wife, they gave each other paps and std checks.

Can I just say for the record, I’ve never been comfortable enough with other women’s whoha’s that I’d offer to give a pap. Even if we were friends.

By the time we went to see the movie, we had laughed so hard at each others experiences, and each other, we ended up feeling better about some of our own experiences, and bonded rather nicely.

The next day, I got a call from one of the newer ladies to the group. She asked me if I had that much fun every time I went out. My answer: I try to, otherwise what’s the point?
 

Reunion Weekend

My husband went to a very nice college not too far from where we currently live. This weekend was his class reunion. 20 Years. He actually wanted to attend some of the activities and bring us. He chose the family picnic, pool, and kid play time. He figured most of his friends would choose that time too. Classically, he never called, or emailed any of them to check, he just assumed. Me, not being one to spoil his fun, didn’t bother to ask if maybe he should. I mean, they might not want to bring their kids and go to the Formal, or the dinner, or nothing at all for that matter.

Knowing me, I opted not to bring my bathing suit. Once my make-up and hair are done, I am going nowhere near water. I’ll watch from the bench as my kids frolic.

I wore a simple pair of white cropped jeans, black shell and black over shirt. Nothing fancy, yet appropriate. I looked at Poor Bill, he opted for that classic 40 year old golfer look: Red short sleeved polo shirt, Khaki shorts (with pleats) brown belt and sneakers. I mocked this look on him. He shrugged and said he was wearing it any way. And besides, he wasn’t wearing the braided brown belt so it was okay. I shook my head and off we went.

Two hours later we were there. Getting out of the car and walking to the old ivied building, I look around. I tell the kids to look around too. Amazed, we realized Poor Bill was wearing a uniform. ALL the other guys had on the same outfit in varying shades of khaki, different colored polo’s and brown belts with sneakers. They all had that 40 year old paunch hanging over the buckle just a little too. It became comical by the time we went to eat. My kids would point out whole groups of guys standing together with the uniform. The women of course wore their best casual Lily Pulitzer outfits with ribbon belts. Of course there were variations on this too, but it was the general look and style. For some reason they weren’t as fun to mock as the men.

I pointed this curious attire out to my husband, who felt really confident at the time, and again, he shrugged, showing no interest in our new game. He had found a couple friends to chat with and he was happy. The kids and I amused ourselves people watching until it was time to go home.

The Whole Uterus and Nothing But the Uterus

The following is a personal rant that just has to be said. Its rattled around in my head long enough. Read only if you are that bored

Ya know, I’m 37 right now and I have no uterus. Not because of cancer or other life threatening issue, but because of adenomyosis. (GUYS: quick, cover your eyes, its gonna get gross)

Adenomyosis is when the lining won’t purge. It just holds up like a soldier in a fox hole. Needless to say after a couple years of minimal-at-best periods, my euphoria died down. Things were getting a little fetid deep inside. Not that I noticed, other than feeling quashy all the time, tired, totally mental and thinking I was preggers all the time. Nope, I wasn’t. Just a uterus keeping its eggs, and lining, and everything else, growing to the size of a 5 month preggers uterus. Even I got grossed out. Ew.

At the time my options were limited, take the pill and hope that helps and if it doesn’t get a hysterectomy, or have a hysterectomy. The pill made things worse.

I talked to my doctor and he said the best course of action would be just to get rid of it. Sure. He’s a guy. Just toss my handy dandy girly parts away and there will be no problems.

After doing my own research, finding all kinds of stories about women who were completely relieved by the procedure, and only reading a couple stories of real issues afterward, I thought, hey, that’s the minority. And I was done having kids, so I decided to follow HIS advice.

Immediately following the procedure, I started having severe hot flashes. HE said they would go away in a couple weeks. I started having severe drenching night sweats, hot flashes that brought instant sweat onto my lips, and dizziness at the hint of heat. HE said I just missed my uterus. Fucker. My research came up with ovarian failure after a hysterectomy. Within the first year I started having joint pains. What hurt on my right side hurt on my left side too.

I found a different doctor. They did hormone testing. Yup, on the low end but still producing some hormones, not post menopausal. My skin dried up, I dried up. I started having joint flare ups, my night sweats calmed down, so did the hot flashes. Two years had gone by. Things started to calm down as my flare ups started get worse.

I asked the doctors what to do. They all nodded in agreement that at 33 I was too young to go on hormone replacement therapy. I’d have a heart attack by the time I was 50. They told me eat soy, exercise, and increase my calcium.

My vitamin D levels had dropped to nothing; they thought all my problems were celiac related. Or thyroid related. But I tested negative for celiac and my thyroid levels were in the low but normal range.

I did my own research again. I bought natural progesterone that I could just rub into my skin. Within a couple months, I was feeling better than I had in years. I went for hormone testing again and guess what? My levels were normal.

I spent the next couple years battling joint and bone pain until a kind doctor gave me 600,000 units of Vitamin D. My bones have never felt better.

Last year I had a growth on one of my ovaries. The one with the growth seemed to have stopped working. The other non-growth adorning ovary, in all the pictures over the course of watching it, is the ovary that seemed to keep popping out eggs. The doctor wouldn’t conclusively say anything, but I think the right one died after the hysterectomy.

That all brings me to today; my joints are flaring up. There is no bone pain, just joint pain and stiffness, and swelling. I am having warm flashes and night sweats again. My skin is dry dry dry. I use Eucerine cream on my face and body and I’m still not moisturized. I’m tired, short fused, and tears actually welled up in my eyes during a commercial. A COMMERCIAL. And I’m collecting my weight in the middle. I always had a narrow waist. Over the last few years I’m sporting a classic cylinder form. The empire waist style is very helpful right now.

I believe my one decent hard working ovary is quitting on me, the lazy bastard. If at 33 THEY wouldn’t do anything to help me, what will they do at 37? I suppose I’m to just live in peace with all this, wrinkle up a decade before my time and be okay with it.

I’m not okay with it. And I’m not sure how to move forward since I don’t like or trust 99.88% of all the doctors I’ve ever been to. Why can’t doctors actually be helpful?

Life in Slow Lane

It is occurring to me that I need to start taking extreme measures in order to keep weight off. By extreme, I mean working out. I hate working out.

Finally, I let it sink in that I suck at woodworking. I tried it, I really did. I think its a case of: I love it, but it doesn’t love me.

My dog smells so bad, its like she is rotting from the inside out. She is old and smelly but not ready to be put to sleep. I’m sure I don’t have to say this, but there will be no heroic measures to save her when it is time.

I am so sick and tired of the political news, the democrats trying to pick their winner, I just want it all to end.

Dealing with peri-menopause sucks. Between night sweats, dry skin, belly weight and crankiness, I’m a joy and a half to be around.

Summer vacation is coming in about 3 weeks. I am very excited. I get to take off most of the summer with the kids! the beach is a calling!

BBQ?

Imagine:

thick juicy sausages with garlic and sage grilled to perfection, asparagus wrapped in prosciutto with goat cheese broiled and drizzled with balsamic vinaigrette, and Ciroc vodka with sparkling elderflower on the rocks and a star fruit garnish.

THAT was my Memorial day cookout. Heck, I’m still thinking about it. mmmmmmmm.

28 people, lots of kids running amok, tiki torches everywhere, patio lights were hung on the clothes line out back, lit the fire pit, made s’mores, and mocked each other senseless. I love my friends.

For Franki

Dear Franki,

Because I care, because I know you are a little tiny bit stressed, I

am posting some funny crap. These pictures that not only made

 me think of you, but made me laugh pretty hard.

Have a brilliant Friday, good luck!

Laughingly,

Say It

Party Like Its May!

How amused I was to find out that the Merry old month of May offered up serious excuses to party. Who knew I could have spent the early part of this month walking tall on Good Posture Day? Or stuffing myself on Hoagie Sandwich Day? Or frolicking in the yard with my kids on Frog Jumping Day?

It seems there was something for me to celebrate every day of May. I could even have a cookout party devoted to grilled asparagus on About Asparagus Day!!

The excitement doesn’t end here. Oh, no. There is more!! For the weed smokers, today, May 22nd is herbal plants day. Go on, toke, its all for the holiday.

For those with tapping toes, May 25 is Tap Dancing Day. You can bet your Sammy Davis Jr. we’ll be listening to songs from the Rat Pack and tapping away!

I missed it this year, but there is almost no way I’d forget Save a Rhino Day next May 9! What fun, what fun. I wonder how to save one though; I’ve been told they are not very people friendly.

I’m having all my very good local friends over for no good reason this weekend just to celebrate them.

What day would you create for all to celebrate?