Caution: Holiday Sappiness Ahead

Today at church we "did it up right" for the first Sunday of Advent. I love Advent, and I wanted to write about Hope today, because we light the candle on the first Sunday of Advent to represent Hope. But what I decided is, hope is too big to fit into a blog post.

I know, that sounds like a total cop-out. It's true, though! Hope can't be summed up or boxed into a little greeting card sentiment. It's what gets us through all the badness of the world and tumbles us right into the good stuff. It's what you try to hang onto when you don't have anything else.

It's why we make plans for a career.

It's why we get married.

It's why we adopt pets, and learn to knit, and have babies, and set our alarm clocks, and go to church on Sunday, or skip church to go kayaking, and watch sunsets, and write bad poetry, and tune into our favorite new show even after we know it's been cancelled, why we fill up the crockpot before work and buy tickets to a play and start blogs and say "I love you" before going to sleep.

Because we hope.

Hope is everywhere and all the time, but ESPECIALLY at Christmas. I hope that you're hoping something right now.

Ummm, Is It December Yet?

Today, I got up early and went for a hike to a scenic overlook and gathered chestnuts to roast, had a big breakfast buffet to totally negate the hike, went for a drive back towards home, and stopped to take pictures of a bunch of wild turkeys. (What do you call a bunch of wild turkeys, anyway?) Visited a fish hatchery, learned that baby trout are wee little things you could miss if you didn't look closely, came home to my crazy, crazy dogs who seem to have gotten crazier over the weekend, went out for pizza and watched a lame-o horror movie.

Phew! This relaxing is hard work! We at the Lewis house are pooped, but it's a good pooped.

And yes, now that you mention it, I am a teeny bit tired of every-day blogging. My life, while quite interesting to me, is not full of general-interest stories, at least not EVERY SINGLE DAY. Come December, I will stop boring you with the dull bits.

Instead of Shopping . . .

. . . we had the loveliest of days, knitting and reading (for me), mountain biking and new-camera-testing (for Todd) and some fine Autumn kayaking for both of us.

Now we're hanging out, watching Star Wars, and Darth Vader is just getting ready to take out poor ol' Obi Wan. So, for now, I'm outta here . . .

Thankful

Happy Thanksgiving, everybody!

I'm still totally stuffed from Thanksgiving "dinner" (more of a late lunch), but we are comfortably ensconced in our Dale Hollow State Resort Park Lodge room, and the olives, cheese and crackers are starting to look almost yummy.

I'm really thankful for Thanksgiving, to remind me of all the wonderful things in my life . . . and to let me eat pecan pie while I'm thinking of them!

Twas the Night Before Thanksgiving . . .

Whew! We are in a flurry of activity around here tonight. What with the house cleaning, and the car-key making (those suckers never did turn up) and the last-minute shopping bits, you'd think it was Christmas Eve, rather than Thanksgiving Eve!

Tonight I did something one should never do on the night before Thanksgiving -- went to Kroger. Luckily, I only needed a few things, but boy howdy, there were some men there who were obviously on a Mission From Their Wives. One guy was leaning on his cart with his elbows, wondering loudly to anyone around, "Where are the freezer bags?" Then there was the guy who was all cheesed off at one of the Kroger employees, "Well, this is a FINE TIME to run out of WHIPPING CREAM!"

Earlier today I took part in another Thanksgiving Eve tradition: the annual Get Your Client Out of Jail for the Holiday Day. I was feeling pretty generous, and let a couple out. It was the earnest little newbie public defender that got to me. I remember that day from my first year . . . one bad-check-writer chick was so grateful that she hurled herself into my arms and yelled out as I was walking away, "God BLESS you, PD Lady!" It's nice to be appreciated, you know.

Tomorrow we're heading out for Thanksgiving dinner, then a few days away. (There will be blogging, though, because Novemember STILL isn't over.) I'm packing up my knitting, the fantastic-book-I'm-reading-that-I'll-blog-about-later, and my violin, and that's all I need (plus my sweetie, of course) for a few days of quality thankfulness.

This Was My Evil Plan All Along . . .

Yesterday, I received the following text message from Little:

"hey when can i borrow that Twilight book from you"

SCORE!!!!!

Chalk up one potential reading convert for me!

Dang

Monday morning, 8:00 AM: Plan day. Industriously park car, with violin safely locked inside, on street at bus stop. Ride bus to work to avoid parking fees.

Monday afternoon, 4:00 PM: Begin packing up to leave work. Put on coat, look for car keys and bus pass. Find bus pass. Do not find car keys. Dump out contents of purse. Take deep breath. Curse.

4:15 PM: Arrive at bus stop moments after bus pulls away. Realize have forgotten scarf and gloves and worn Spring jacket. Estimate wind chill at approximately 30 degrees below zero.

4:18 PM: Enter bank lobby to wait for next bus.

4:19 PM: Get annoyed at bank employees staring at me, go back to bus stop.

4:20 PM: Call husband to complain re: missed bus and lost keys. Hang up when face is too numb to talk.

4:25 PM: Am grateful for dude lighting cigarette at bus stop, think flame might give off enough heat to ward off frostbite.

4:45 PM: Board bus. Stew re: lost keys.

5:00 PM: Arrive at car. Open unlocked hatchback, crawl into backseat, unlock doors. Search car. Do not find keys.

5:05 PM: Start walk home with purse, lunch bag, violin, and music. Call 411 for number to music school. Get three wrong numbers. Curse.

5:15 PM: Arrive home. Break into basement. Cancel violin lesson.

5:30 PM: Call car dealer to inquire re: cost of replacement key. Replacement cost $230. Remember that at least saved $7 parking fee.

DANG.

Hedging My Bets

Today's passage at church was that familiar, "whatever you do to the least of my people, you do to me" section. I swear, I did NOT remember how much hellfire and brimstone is in that passage! All that stuff about sheep and goats, and people on the left and on the right, and going to hell for ever and eternity . . . it was enough to make one poor woman get all teary-eyed while relaying a tale of some dude who asked her for "gas money."

"What if that was God, and I MISSED HIM?" she wailed.

Here are my thoughts on the matter:

1. God doesn't go around disguising himself as the homeless (or the gassless), hoping to trick us into condemning ourselves to hell.

2. God doesn't send anyone to hell.

3. If God WERE going to send me to hell, it would probably not be JUST because I didn't give money to that guy who stand outside the courthouse with a walker, asking for change. (Especially because that guy is totally a faker; I've seen him CARRY the damn walker.)

4. I should probably be nicer to people, just in case. I might need all the help I can get.

I wonder, does it count in my favor that I always dismiss the charges against people who are charged under the "panhandling" statute?

'Cause I do. Every time.

It's That Dreamy Edward Cullen, Again

Well, we did it -- Little and I went to see Twilight today, along with just about every female between the ages of 10 and 35. It was just lovely, I have to say.

I've been thinking way too much about the popularity of these books. They are not classic literature, for sure, but oh, so compelling. This boy is quite simply the fantasy boyfriend, the boy that every adolescent girl dreams of. One who loves you obsessively and protectively, who would face down beasties and meanies and even PARENTS for you.

Oh, yeah . . . and he's a bit stalker-ish. I said he was the fantasy of ADOLESCENT girls, didn't I?

Anywho. If you are a girl who's an adolescent, or a woman who used to be a girl who was an adolescent, go see the movie -- better yet, read the books. Books are ALWAYS better than the movie, don't you know.

I Wonder If She Had a Hotel Room?

If you know me in real life, (and since I have approximately 4 regular readers, all of whom DO know me in real life, the odds are pretty good that if you're reading this, you know me) you'll remember that for the past two years, I have been prosecuting a woman who is stalking a priest.

No, (in case you DON'T know me) I am not exagerating, it's been two years, and she really is stalking a priest. Anyway, you should also remember that this woman is bat-shit crazy. Recently, she began leaving irate messages for my boss, complaining about my overzealous prosecution.

Yesterday, one of her messages, which had the "Young and the Restless" theme song playing in the background, included this tidbit:

" . . . and THEN, Ms. Lewis CONVIENTLY kept me in jail past the inauguration, because she KNEW I was planning to go."

You're welcome, President-Elect Obama. You're very welcome.

More Not-Funny Stuff

This morning, as I was pulling out of my driveway, our next-door-neighbor-that-we-like waved me to a stop.

"I haven't seen either of you for a few days, but I wanted to let you know . . . "

[dang, I thought, Penny's been barking and got the animal cops called on her again, or Sam broke out of the pen again . . .]

" . . . we had to put Molly down."

Molly was the next-door-dog-that-we-liked, an old golden retriever who would slooowly come out into the yard a few times a day, and if we were outside, she would come over to the fence and Sam and Penny would bark wildly at her, like she was the cool-older-kid-next-door, and we would pet her through the fence. She never barked, she just looked at you with her great big golden retriever eyes, and you couldn't help but like her.

So Becky and I stood outside in the cold, both of us tearing up over Molly, and when I drove away for work, I had to do some serious blinking and gulping, and was very thankful for my new Maybeline waterproof mascara.

It's been many months ago that our very good friends had to put their little Alice down, and I remember tearing up over that, too. This is an event that I've never had to endure, and boy, am I hoping for a miracle that lets me never go through it. These silly animals, that come into our lives, and pee and poop and puke on stuff, and eat our books, and lick our chins and never once care that we need to lose some weight or that we lost our temper over something silly the other day . . . what would we do without them?

Man, I need some Friday fripperies soon.

Sometimes, There's Nothing Funny to Talk About

When I was a Public Defender, people often asked me, "How do you sleep at night, representing those criminals?" I usually responded, "Like a baby, thanks."

Now that I'm on the other side, I still get those questions occasionally, "Don't the horrible things you see keep you up at night?" Usually, the answer is no, except that sometimes I stay up late telling funny stories.

Then there are the not-so-funny stories. Some are pretty damn bad.

Like the three year old victim I heard about this week, whose horrific injuries just won't leave my mind; the victim I would seriously consider bringing into my home to live, just so I could be certain he wasn't hurt again.

Like Marco David Chapman, who committed a terrible, heinous crime, but was a victim himself. I can't bear to think of forgiving him, but I can't bear to think of the state allowing his suicide-by-execution. It is for people like him that I am so grateful I believe in God, for surely only the God I believe in could offer him forgiveness and healing.

I don't think my job gives me any more access to horrible stories than the average person has; maybe it makes me notice them more. And on those days, the days that the stories hit me the hardest, I fervently wish that I had decided to be a librarian.

I don't have kids. If you do, please give them a hug. It could change their lives.

Watch Out, Martha, Here I Come

People, the holiday season is upon us. I know this because: I nearly froze my nose clean off while waiting for the bus; the respective parts of my family have scheduled out the traditional get-togethers, and my sister has put up her Christmas tree.

So, while Todd was filling in as blogger yesterday, I started Christmas shopping. Because I am a sadist (or sado-masochist, I can never remember the difference; nor do I actually know how to spell sado-masochist), this Christmas shopping entailed buying supplies for some Christmas present crafting. (Seriously, what is it about Christmas that makes me want to MAKE stuff?)

I would love to tell you all my crafting plans, but you might be someone who will be the recipient of such plans. Here's what I can tell you: I got some really nice ______ that I'm going to _______ with ________; and some ___________ that I'm going to make into _____________ for __________, _____________, and probably _______. I also got some _______________ to fill up with _________.

Oh! and I'm going to make some _______ and some _________.

There. Merry __________ to ya.

A Distinguished Guest Blogger . . .

Hello everyone out there in that crazy world-wide-web place. It’s me, Todd. I appear in this blog as a character occasionally. I’ve now been asked to appear as a special guest blogger. I like to be short, and to the point. Therefore, here are my guest observations:

Sara Palin: Ruined the word “vacuous”

John McCain: Who?

Barack Obama: Pretty cool. Smart. Kinda nerdy

Joe Biden: Uhm, clean?

Jennifer Moore: No idea. She’s the head of the Kentucky Democratic Party, and clearly did something to piss off that guy at pageonekentucky.com. Thought she deserved an honorable mention.

Daniel Lewis: OK, I was thinking about that red-head guy from Band of Brothers, and now “Life”—but it also happens to be my brother’s name. Both pretty cool. Not the Last of the Mohicans (he had a cool name, then put the word “Day” in as some kind of consonant middle name. A marketing ploy in other words).

Junk food: Pure evil. Evildoers brought this evil evildom upon us.

Wheat bread: Cool. Mavericky, even. Also Clif Bars. I can live entire weekends on Clif Bars.

Flyfishing: It’s actually fun. Makes the phrase “high class fishing” not a contradiction in terms. Will not, however, lead to “an understanding of life,” or cure mid-life crises. I will not write a book about it.

YMCA: OK song, even better place. Even if you’re not a Christian, or a young man.

Flyleaf:This is a band my “Little Brother” introduced me to. I don’t get it, find it a little scary, and so that makes me an old dude.

Kara: My wife. Great lady. Way hipper than me, as you can tell.

That is all, and thank you for your support.

Sunday Confession

Here's the thing:

I woke up this morning at the appropriate time, went downstairs, had some breakfast, shifted around the paper, etc., etc., and decided that I might skip Sunday School and go to just church instead.

Then, I putzed around a little more, and decided that I'd just skip church altogether.

I know, I know, shocking. I wouldn't be a bit surprised if they don't dock my Presbyterian elder pay.

Oh, right . . . there is no pay. Anyway, I don't expect to be fired.

And People Wonder Why I Stay Home on Saturday Night

I did my monthly Saturday in the Domestic Violence Intake Center today, and it gave rise to a few questions.

1. If you were afraid of an ex with whom you might have children, would you track him down at the club and spit on him?

2. If your ex with whom you might have children spit on you, would you knock her over and kick her?

3. If you ex with who you might have children knocked you over and kicked you, would you bust out his windshield and headlights?

4. If you were either of the above people, would you run to the courthouse to file charges on the other?

5. If you were on a jury, would you convict either of these people?

6. Would you convict both?

In the words of one of our illustrious judges, "Don't start nothin', won't be nothin'."

Good advice, I think.

Friday Night Dinner

Tonight I cooked a birthday dinner for my dad. One thing I have decided, I really like cooking for a smaller group. I don't think I'll ever be the "cook Thanksgiving for 50" type, but up to about six people, I think I'm doing pretty well.

Here was tonight's menu:

Guinness-braised beef short ribs
Horseradish mashed potatoes
Southern-style green beans
Cranberry-ginger relish
Chess pie

Doesn't that sound nice and fattening and yummy? Chess pie, in particular, kind of amuses me. Somewhere along the line, someone decided to dump a bunch of sugar, butter and eggs in a dish and call it pie. Tasty pie.

So we had a nice relaxing dinner, and I sent my dad home with his birthday presents -- a second, whole pie, fair trade coffee, homemade smoked trout and beef jerky.

Because everyone should get to eat pie for breakfast for their birthday stretch-out month.

We're Scraping the Bottom of the Post Barrel, Folks

Lordy, lord, great googly moogly, etc., etc. I am POOPED. I'm telling you -- plumb-TUCKERED!

This has been one long week. I've had church meetings three nights, and a fantastically-expensive-face-care-product party tonight. AND tomorrow night I'm cooking a birthday dinner for my dad, AND I have to work Saturday, AND I have plans with Little on Sunday.

So, while I had been pondering a nice, thoughtful post about how we all have special gifts and how we use those gifts to enrich one another's lives, I'm just too dad-gumbed tired to think about any gifts right now.

Instead, you get this mildly amusing tidbit:

Tuesday night, at one of the church meetings, we listened to a presentation on how to attract new members to the church. It was actually a pretty fun presentation; he suggested a nickname, HBPres.net, rather than our actual church name, Harvey Browne Memorial Presbyterian Church. And he told us about a bumper sticker campaign, with some suggested bumper stickers.

They were all nice and light-hearted; for example, "Feel Good: HBPres.net" and "No Steeple, Good People: HBPres.net" (my church doesn't have a steeple, get it?).

Another odd little physical fact about my church is that the main entrance doesn't face the street, instead, it's around the back, facing the parking lot. So, he suggested the following bumper sticker:

"HBPres.net: Our back door's our front door."

I have maybe been hanging around the courthouse too long, because that has a decidedly non-churchy connotation to me.

(And Mother, if you don't get it, I'm not explaining this one!)

He Wasn't Amused

Today in court:

Dude: Man, can't I just get a fine or somethin'?

Me: No, you could go to jail. You're on probation, and you're charged with Carrying a Concealed Deadly Weapon and Possession of Marijuana.

Dude: That wasn't a weapon, it was a stick! A stick, to keep the dogs off me!

Me: Oh, because they were attracted to the smell of the pot?

You Know You Would Have Your Own List, Too

I volunteered to work on a concert that is coming to my church, and I'm in charge of supplying and setting up the "green room" for the musicians. For some reason, this seems totally cool to me. They gave a list of their requirements for the room, and it's pretty reasonable; it includes things like bottled water, fruit juices, veggies and hummus, and precisely two 70% dark chocolate bars.

So, anyway, this got me thinking about what I will demand in my own green room when I am touring with the Led Zeppelin cover band, because, you know, it's never to early to hammer out such details.

Here's the list I have so far:

1. Canned diet cokes, iced down, with cups and crushed ice
2. Bagel Bites, three-cheese variety, slightly overcooked
3. Brownies, fudgy type, with dark chocolate chips
4. One pitcher of beer-ritas, on the rocks, with salt
5. "Everything" flatbread, with Capriole goat cheese
6. Mini ham and cheese quiches
7. One large fleece blanket
8. Assorted magazines (Rachel Ray, Martha Stewart, Eating Well, etc.)
9. Buffy the Vampire Slayer DVDs, seasons one through seven
10. One de-clawed cat who likes to be petted and doesn't bite

Yep, I think that would make for one quite cozy green room. Actually, I could just live in such a room if it had maid service as well.

Random Thoughts Monday

1. If you're going to be Presbyterian, you should know going into it that Presbyterians can't do anything without establishing a committee, mapping out what council that committee reports to, and scheduling a meeting. You should also know that said meeting cannot be accomplished in less than two hours. Dinner should never be postponed until "after this quick meeting."

2. I'm very, very pleased with our First-Lady-Elect, largely because she appeals both to my girly side and to my career woman side. Both sides of me are willing to overlook the fashion faux-pas of a dress she wore on Election night, largely because the dress she wore to the meeting today with the Bushes was so totally FIERCE and made Laura Bush look like Ms. Frumpy McDowdypants.

3. Has anyone noticed how much Laura Bush is starting to resemble Queen Elizabeth?

4. The socks I wore to work today, while very fun, what with their glittery leopard print and all, were also very itchy. Itchy socks make for a long workday.

5. I confess that I used a can of cream of mushroom soup in dinner tonight. I am so ashamed. I blame the long Presbyterian meeting and the itchy socks.

6. If dinner involves cream of mushroom soup, it is smart to forego dinner and skip to the biscuits and elderberry jelly for dessert. Actually, you can skip the biscuits, too, because elderberry jelly just freakin' rocks.

7. My violin teacher told me today that I trill better than she does. Apparently, all the trilling angst I went through as a middle school piano student paid off. I will be incorporating lots of trills in my upcoming debut with the Led Zeppelin cover band.

I Said Some Days Would Be Better Than Others

Look! A joke to distract you from my lack of blogging material:

Why do elephants wear sandals?

So they don't sink in the sand.

Why do ostriches stick their heads in the sand?

To look for elephants who forgot their sandals.

Lame Weekend Blogging

Hmm. I think the reason I don't blog much on the weekends is that in terms of humorous/touching/mildly interesting stories . . . my weekends are a little lame.

But I love my lame weekends. Especially ones like this one, with summer gone for good and autumn in full swing. Perfect weather for traipsing through the Farmer's Market, buying brussel sprouts and butternut squash and salad greens and cooking them all for dinner.

Perfect for spending way too long in the sci-fi/fantasy section of the library, loading up on escapist books.

. . . for lying around watching DVR-ed episodes of Doctor Who and falling asleep on the couch before the plot even gets going.

. . . for taking a crunchy, leaf-filled walk with Sam.

. . . for baking chocolate chip cookie dough so it doesn't "go to waste in the fridge".

Ahh . . . autumn.

This is Going to be SO Great

Oh, man, oh, man.

You know how I said the other day that I've been thinking alot about whether God has a plan for me?

Well, I figured it out! Monday morning, I'm going to quit my job and get started on my new life goal . . .

. . . to play electric violin in a Led Zeppelin cover band!

Seriously, it's going to be so cool! I'll grow my hair out kind of like that super cool chick that used to be in the band on the Happy Days, and I'll get a tattoo, and I'll wear leather and stuff, and I'll pierce something else, like maybe my lip or my eyebrow, and I'll sleep late every day and play smoky dive bars every night and probably get to meet Barack Obama because he's cool, too, and man oh man, will it be cool!

I'm so not kidding, people.

[And lest you think that there is no such thing as an electric violin player in a Led Zeppelin cover band, I saw one tonight, with the Louisville Orchestra, so it's a totally workable plan.]

Monday morning. Quittin' my job.

I'm Coming Down From My Election High, Now

What I am about to tell you is so scary, so potentially traumatizing, that I warned my mother about it in advance so she would be prepared.

We have a mouse.

Like, living in the same house that we live in.

Oh, the horror. Tuesday I was lying on the couch, watching The Lost Room, and I saw a little black shape dart from the door to the TV stand.

"Odd," I thought.

A while later, I saw it dart back. That's when I called Todd at work.

"There's a mouse. In our house and I'm scared."

"Go get Tom and tell him to catch it."

"Tom doesn't like me, he only catches things for you, remember?"

"Oh, yeah."

So I went out and got the dogs, and they sat around and stretched and yawned and played rope, and didn't catch the damn mouse, which is apparently smart enought that when it saw Penny come into the room, it thought to its mouse self, "holy crap, that dog is CRAZY and I'm staying right here under the cozy TV stand where it's safe."

It hid out all day until just before the wondrousness that is Barack Obama was declared King of the World, and just as the TV was announcing that news, the damn mouse ran across the floor again, and all of us -- me, Todd, Dan His Brother, and Kelley Dan's Wife, AND Tom the Cat -- freaked out and didn't know where to look. We all pretty much agreed on the king declaration, and the mouse stayed hidden some more.

This morning I was sitting on the couch, eating some cereal, and that mouse came out from under the TV stand, and I SWEAR, he stopped, looked at me, said, "Oh, having some breakfast? I wouldn't mind having some myself, and by the way, when you go to work, can you please leave the TV on CNN so I can keep up with any Cabinet appointments?"

I'm not kidding. If this keeps up, I'm coming to live with you.

Yes, YOU.

Maybe Tomorrow I'll Be More Coherent

Okay, one more post on the happiness that is the 2008 election, then I'll shush it.

It's been just a surreal day! All of the displays around the world of sheer joy are just amazing. So many people in so many different places who are finally smiling and laughing with us, and PROUD of us again . . . it's just wonderful.

I will never forget that moment when President-Elect Obama and his family emerged onto the stage, to take their place as our future.

Hope is a wonderful thing.

Election Day

Okay, in an effort to keep up the blog-a-day thing, I'm posting NOW, because I'm afraid I'll be too caught up in the TV later.

As in, when the totals start coming in.

As in, when hopefully we can wave goodbye to the last eight years.

As I type that, though, I'm reminded that the last eight years haven't been ALL bad. During those years, I became single, graduated from law school, and got oh-so-happily married again. I became a public defender, and later switched sides to be a prosecutor. I saw my mother get oh-so-happily married. I adopted two loveable mutts. My husband became the first Division Chief of the first ever Elder Abuse unit of the Commonwealth's Attorney's office, and later moved onward and upward to the Attorney General's office. I read a lot of good books, saw Hedwig on stage, and learned to play the violin (sort of).

In retrospect, it's only the parts of the last eight years that George W. Bush had control of that sucked all kinds of ass. Like money, and gas, and religion, and the environment and stuff. So I guess I'll keep the proverbial baby and throw out that icky Republican bathwater.

It feels like New Year's Eve around here. Like the night before Christmas. Aren't you excited?

Thank You, Mrs. Dunham

I just heard on the radio that Barack Obama's grandmother died in this morning's early hours. The irony is thick enough to be considered trite if you tried to write it into a novel. If all goes well, Obama will, within 48 hours of her death, become his own little chapter in the history books, as the first African-American president. Many times over the past weeks I have thought a fervent little prayer to myself that the woman who raised him be allowed to see it happen.

I've been thinking alot lately about God's plan for me, because I believe whole-heartedly that he has one for each of us. And I've been thinking that while not everyone is destined for greatness, maybe those not-so-great of us are destined to help someone else on their road.

And isn't that a pretty big form of greatness all of its own?

If I didn't believe in God, I would be just too heartbreakingly sad to think of this woman missing out on the history she helped to create. And since I DO believe in God, I admit to shaking my head a little at what seems to be just not quite fair -- that just like Moses and his Promised Land, Mrs. Dunham ALMOST got to see a dream come true.

Then again, since I believe in the KIND of God that I do, I have to laugh a little at the humdinger of a victory party she'll be throwing in heaven.

For those of us still muddling along down here on Earth . . . don't forget to vote. It's important.

A Bit of Improv Never Hurts

Yesterday I dragged my party-pooped self to one of the local Democratic Party headquarters to make calls for -- I thought -- the Obama campaign. I for some reason assumed I would be calling people in other states where Obama still has a fighting chance, but I was actually calling local people who are registered Democrats, just to remind them to vote and to ask if they were voting for the Democratic ticket.

It was easier than I expected, what with the script and all. The worst problem was the automated calling system, which I think gave itself away as soon as the person answered the phone, because most people just hung up before I could even say hello.

Then there were the people that managed to listen to, "Hi, I'm Kara from the Louisville Democratic Party," before they hung up on me. I tried talking faster -- hii'mkarafromthedemocraticparty -- but they usually still hung up before I got out the whole spiel, which is a shame, because people, I was going to offer you a RIDE, for fuck's sake.

Seriously. I'm tempted to call and request a ride to the polls myself, just because I don't like to drive, you know. I mean, the polls are just around the corner from my house, but maybe they could be persuaded to take me to the store, since they were already out and about.

The calls did get a bit dull after awhile, so some improvisation was tempting:

Me: Hi, I'm Kara from the Democratic Party, calling to remind you about the election this Tuesday. Can the Democrats count on your vote this year?

Callee: No, I'm going to be voting Republican this year, actually.

Me: Oh, well don't forget, they've moved the election to Wednesday. That's WEDNESDAY -- we wouldn't want you to miss out.

Just doin' my civic duty.

The Great Blog Experiment, Day One

Wait, what time is it?

Dang! It's just a smidge after midnight on November 2, but since I'm making the rules around here, we're calling it November 1, okay?

So, yeah. I'm going to blog every day this month. Some days will probably be better than others, just to give you fair warning.

There's been a lot going on in the past week around here. Wednesday was my third wedding anniversary. All I have to say is, I STILL think I married the right guy, and how cool is that?

Last night we hosted our annual Pass Out Candy and Have General Fun Halloween Party, and a good time was had by all. I think I'm quite fortunate that I can have parents, in-laws, step-parents, siblings, and friends, all in the same house, and everyone gets along swimmingly! Even the Republicans were on pretty good behavior, outnumbered as they were.

I didn't really want to go all out in a costume, but I wanted to wear a blue wig, and since it was my party, that's just what I did. I love my snazzy blue wig. I wish I could wear it to work. Heck, I wish I could just post a picture of it, but since we've still got those two broken cameras, there are no blue wig pictures in the foreseeable future.

Tonight, I knitted my poor fingers to nubs, but more on that tomorrow . . .